A new town.
New streets.
New silence.
But the pain still walked beside him.
Anup had found a tiny flat above an old bookstore—nothing fancy, just walls and a window through which his daughter, little Nisha, could see the sky again.
He had no job yet.
No roots.
Just the hope that starting over would feel like breathing again.
But life had its own pace. And it never asked permission before shaking things.
One rainy evening, Nisha began to cough. At first, it was soft. But then, it grew into something that wouldn't stop.
She burned with fever. Her tiny frame curled up, shivering in bed. And in that moment, Anup's chest cracked with helplessness.
He rushed her to the nearest hospital.
Holding her in his arms, he ran through white corridors and glowing lights until a calm voice stopped him.
"It's okay. Hand her to me, please."
And then, he saw her.
Dr. Samraggi.
Clad in a white coat, raindrops glistening on her hair, her voice as steady as a heartbeat. Her eyes didn't just examine—they listened.
Anup froze for a second.
He didn't know why.
Maybe it was the way she touched Nisha's forehead with care, not calculation.
Maybe it was the way Nisha held her hand back, like it belonged there.
He stood still as Samraggi took Nisha inside.
Minutes felt like hours.
He sat on the cold bench, fingers locked together, staring at the small window of the pediatric room. Memories flickered like lightning — of a woman he lost, of a coffee shop once full, now distant.
Then the door opened.
Samraggi stepped out, a tired but gentle smile on her lips.
"She'll be okay. Just a viral infection. But she needs rest. And… she was asking for you."
He bowed his head with relief. "Thank you, doctor. I owe you—"
"You owe me nothing. You love her. That's enough."
She turned to leave but stopped.
"Your daughter... she said something strange."
"What did she say?" Anup asked.
"She said… 'You'd be perfect to be my mom.'"
Anup's heart skipped.
Samraggi gave a soft laugh. "Kids say the funniest things."
But behind her smile, there was a pause. A softness. A beginning.
And Anup knew, deep down, that maybe—
Just maybe—
A chapter was about to turn.