Rain pattered gently outside the window. The droplets clung to the glass like unnamed tears, slowly streaking down. I sat in my small room, clutching an old sweater, heart heavy with the weight of silence. Though the golden lamp cast a warm glow, it couldn’t chase away the loneliness consuming me.

Inside me, a tiny heartbeat grew stronger every day—a secret I had told no one. Not even the man who once meant the world to me—Arjun Mehra, my ex-lover, now a powerful billionaire.

We once shared a love straight out of a dream. Arjun, with his sharp gaze and gentle voice, used to promise me the world. But that world had no room for me when he stepped into high society—lavish galas, influential networks, and a life too big for someone like me.

We broke up quietly. No fights, no blame. Just me walking out of his luxurious Mumbai apartment with nothing but a broken heart… and unknowingly, a fragile life growing inside me.

I chose to become a single mother.

Not because I stopped loving Arjun, but because I didn’t want to become a burden—or worse, a pawn in his empire-building game. I moved to a small town in Himachal, took a job at an old bookstore, and lived simply. The scent of old paper and ink brought me peace.

But life, like a novel, has its own twists.

That morning, rain fell hard. I threw on my raincoat, opened my umbrella, and rushed to the local hospital for my routine prenatal visit. I was three months along. Each time I heard the baby’s heartbeat, I found the strength to keep going.

But just as I stepped into the hospital corridor—I froze.

There he was.

Arjun Mehra, standing tall beneath the hospital lights. He looked exactly as I remembered—black suit, perfectly combed hair, confident aura. But his eyes… they didn’t recognize me. As if I were a stranger.

And next to him stood a stunning woman—elegant dress, pearl bracelet, clinging to his arm. She laughed softly, her voice like silver bells.

My heart clenched.

I lowered my head, hoping he wouldn’t notice me, and tried to walk past.

But fate isn’t so kind.

“Arjun, who’s she?”
The woman’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and alert. I stopped mid-step.

Arjun turned. Our eyes met.

For a brief second, something flickered in his gaze—a memory, perhaps. But it disappeared, replaced by calm indifference.

“Just… an old acquaintance,” he said flatly.

Old acquaintance.
Those two words stabbed through me like a blade.

I gave a faint smile and turned to leave. But she wasn’t done. She stepped toward me, scanning me from head to toe with a look that mixed curiosity and disdain.

“You’re here for a checkup?” she asked sweetly, but with a poisoned edge.

I clenched my fists, keeping calm.

“Yes. A checkup,” I answered briefly, hoping to walk away.

But then she glanced at the ultrasound paper sticking out from my folder. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh? A prenatal scan? Congratulations! So… who’s the father?”
Her words sliced deeper than the rain outside.

I turned pale. Arjun’s brows furrowed. I knew if he saw the scan clearly, everything would unravel.

Panicking, I stuffed the paper into my bag, muttered a quick apology, and rushed out—into the pouring rain.

The cold rain soaked me, but I didn’t stop running. I just wanted to escape—from Arjun, from her, from the memories.

Finally exhausted, I collapsed onto a bench in the park and sobbed.

“My child,” I whispered. “Do you deserve this pain?”

That night, I lay in bed, hand on my belly.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “But I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

I thought it was over. That Arjun would never look for me again.

But I was wrong.

The next morning, as I arranged books in the shop, the bell above the door rang.

I looked up—and my heart skipped a beat.

Arjun stood there, shirt soaked, hair messy, but eyes filled with determination.

He walked in, shut the door behind him, and before I could say a word, he said:

“Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”

I froze.

“What… what are you talking about?” I stammered.

He pulled out the ultrasound scan—the one I had dropped in my panic.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize it? This is my child, isn’t it, Anika?”

Tears welled up in my eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll raise this baby on my own.”

He stepped closer and took my hand.

“Do you think I’ll walk away? Anika, I never stopped loving you. That girl yesterday? She’s my business partner’s daughter. I was accompanying her on behalf of her father—nothing more.”

I was stunned. Still, I kept my distance.

“So what? You have your world, I have mine.”

His voice shook.

“No, Anika. I was wrong to let you go. I thought power and money mattered, but none of it means anything without you. Let me in. Let me be the father. The man you once loved.”

I stood frozen, heart torn between hope and fear.
Was this real—or just another illusion?

But before we could reconcile, fate dealt another blow.

A week later, a letter arrived at the bookstore.

No return address. Just one handwritten line:

“The baby isn’t Arjun Mehra’s. Be careful.”

Attached was a DNA report—declaring that Arjun wasn’t the father.

I felt my world collapse. I had never done a test like this. Who sent it?

I called Arjun. When he arrived, I handed him the letter.

“Explain this.”

He went pale.

“Anika, I swear—I don’t know anything about this. But… there’s something I didn’t tell you. The woman from the hospital—she snapped a photo of the scan before I picked it up.”

I gasped.
That woman… the business partner’s daughter—had faked the letter to drive us apart?

I ordered a new DNA test.

The result left us both shattered: Arjun was not the father.

In a painful flash, I remembered one blurry night, after our breakup, when I got drunk and spent the night with a stranger—a man I never saw again.

I looked at Arjun, tears streaming down my face.

“Go. I’m not worthy of you.”

But Arjun didn’t move. He held my hand.

“I don’t care whose child it is. I love you, and I will love your child too. Let me stay.”

Outside, the drizzle returned.

I collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

Life will always be full of surprises—but this time, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.