1940

©[2025] by [KARA&KIYA]

All rights reserved.

This book is a product of my imagination, too many late-night writing sessions, and lots of snacks.

Any resemblance to real people, events, or that one time you saw someone do something embarrassing is purely coincidental. If you think this story is about you, well... maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But either way, let's keep it fun.

No part of this book may be reproduced, shared, or copied in any form without my permission. Stealing is for villains, and I am no villain (unless you count my characters, who do some questionable things). If you like the story, feel free to share it with your friends. If you don't, that's totally fine too.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.

The characters, events, and situations are created purely for storytelling purposes. Any similarities to real life are entirely coincidental. Please don't come after me if you think someone sounds like you. It's just how the story unfolded.

Content Warning: Before you dive in, here are some things you should know:

Mature Content & Intimate Moments: There are some steamy romantic scenes, so if that's not your vibe, maybe skip them.

Violence & Murder: Yes, there aresome dark themes, including crime, murder, and violence. If that's something that might trigger you, please be cautious while reading.

Trigger Warnings: This book

may contain material that could be disturbing or triggering for some readers. Themes of abuse, manipulation, and psychological distress appear. Reader discretion is advised.

Criminal Activities: There are

instances of characters engaging in illegal and morally questionable acts. This book does not endorse such behavior.

Strong Language: You'll find some characters are not known for their filters.

Language Disclaimer: English is not

my first language. I've done my best to write this story in the most clear and understandable way possible, but please bear with me if anything sounds a little off or awkward. I'm learning, and your feedback (kindly) is always appreciated!

Important Note: If you don't like

the book, don't read it. Simple as that. We all have different tastes, and that's okay! But please don't leave unnecessary hate. We're here for fun, not negativity.

By continuing to read, you're agreeing to all of the above. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride... or, you know, brace yourself for all the crazy things that are about to happen.

LET'S GET STARTED...

Ayaan pov

The night stretched endlessly before me, the sky cloaked in thick, ominous clouds. Not a single star was visible, as if even the heavens had abandoned their light. The scent of the sea filled the air, carried by a faint breeze that barely touched my skin. It looked like it could rain any moment, but that wasn't what troubled me.

I let out a tired sigh and loosened my tie, allowing myself some space to breathe. Yet, even with the open sky above me and the vast sea stretching endlessly before me, I felt suffocated. The weight pressing down on my chest was unbearable, an invisible force squeezing the air out of my lungs.

I lifted my head, staring at the sky. Why?

The question echoed in my mind, demanding answers I didn't have. It was too much—too overwhelming.

Leaning back slightly, I pressed my hands into the damp sand, feeling its coldness against my fingertips. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, their steady sound filling the silence around me. But instead of grounding me, they pulled me deep into my thoughts.

And then, my past came rushing back like a storm.

FLASHBACK - Year ago

POLITICAL SUB-HEADQUARTERS

The atmosphere inside the conference room was thick with tension. The walls, adorned with portraits of past leaders, seemed to watch us with unblinking eyes, as if judging every decision we made. The long mahogany table in the center of the room was scattered with documents, charts, and political strategies, each one more important than the last.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temple. The weight of the upcoming elections sat heavy on all our shoulders. There was no room for mistakes, no space for hesitation.

"We need to run multiple campaigns across different constituencies to ensure our dominance," said the Campaign Strategist, his fingers tapping impatiently against the table as he eyed the map pinned to the board. "We have to reach the people—show them why we are their best choice."

"No," came a firm voice from across the table. My uncle, Rajveer Rathore, the Chief Political Advisor, sat with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning the room. "Repetition won't help us. If we follow the same formula as last time, we risk losing our grip. We need something different."

I shifted my eyes to my father, Vikram Singh Rathore, the Party Head. He hadn't spoken yet, but his silence spoke volumes. He was watching, analyzing, absorbing every detail before making his move—like a king waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The room was filled with senior members of our party, each with years of experience in politics. Suresh Trivedi, the State Coordinator, sat with his arms resting on the table, his brows furrowed in deep thought. Beside him, Neelam Kapoor, the Public Relations Head, flipped through a stack of reports, waiting for her turn to speak.

"We cannot afford to be reckless," said the Finance Head, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the budget sheets. "Our funding is strong, but we need to invest wisely. Large-scale campaigns require resources, and we have to be strategic."

A younger member, hesitated before speaking. "Sir, perhaps we could—"

Before he could finish, my father finally spoke.

"We don't need multiple campaigns," his deep voice cut through the tension like a blade. "We need one move that will secure our victory."

Silence.

Every eye in the room turned to him, waiting.

I clenched my jaw. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

My father leaned forward, his fingers interlocked on the table. "The people don't trust words anymore. Promises mean nothing to them. What they need is action—proof that we are different." His gaze swept across the room. "The opposition is strong, but they are predictable. We need to shake the ground beneath them."

The meeting had shifted into a more serious mode, the weight of the upcoming elections pressing down on all of us. I was supposed to be focused, engaged. But then—

Vibration.

I felt it in my pocket. My phone.

Discreetly, I pulled it out, lowering my gaze to check the screen.

One new message.

I clicked on it, barely giving it a thought—until I read the words.

"I'm pregnant."

My heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, everything around me blurred. The voices, the political discussion, the pressure of my family's legacy—all of it faded into the background.

No. This... this can't be true.

Before I could process it, another message came.

"Ayaan?"

I felt the blood rush to my head. My body acted before my mind could catch up.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the marble floor. The sudden movement made every head in the room turn toward me.

"Ayaan?" My father's sharp voice cut through the silence.

"I—sorry, but I need to take this." I didn't wait for approval. I simply walked out, my pulse racing.

The moment I stepped out of the conference hall, I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself. The dimly lit corridor stretched ahead of me, leading to a shaded balcony area. From here, the city sprawled beneath me—its glittering lights looking almost peaceful in contrast to the storm inside my mind.

I wasted no time. With slightly shaky hands, I called her.

The phone rang once. Twice. Then—

"Hello?"

Her voice. Soft, yet carrying an undeniable weight.

I swallowed, my throat dry. "is it true?"

A pause. Then—

"Yes."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. A strange sensation washed over me—a mix of shock, disbelief... and something else. Something I hadn't expected.

Happiness.

A short, breathless laugh escaped my lips as I ran a hand through my hair. "We're going to have a baby," I whispered, almost in awe. Saying it out loud made it feel real. More real than the elections, the meetings, or the legacy I was being forced to carry.

I quickly switched to a video call. After a second, the screen lit up, and there she was.

Her face came into view, her dark eyes holding a strange mixture of emotions. But I was too caught up in the moment to notice.

"This... this is the best news I've ever gotten," I said, my smile growing.

But she didn't respond.

My excitement only grew. "Rhea, this is amazing. I know this wasn't planned, but we'll figure it out." I exhaled sharply, shaking my head with a grin. "We'll get married. I'll take care of you—I'll take care of both of you."

Her silence finally made me pause.

I frowned. "Rhea?"

She exhaled slowly. Something was wrong.

"Ayaan..." she hesitated. "We need to talk when you get back."

A strange sense of unease settled in my chest.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

"Not now," she said softly. "Just... come back soon."

I hesitated for a moment, searching her expression for answers. But she wasn't giving me any.

Still, I forced myself to stay optimistic.

"I'll be back in a week," I promised, offering a reassuring smile. "And then, we'll talk. Properly." I took a breath. "I love you, Rhea."

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "We'll talk then."

The call ended.

For a few moments, I stood there, staring at the darkened phone screen. Something about her voice... about her words... didn't sit right with me.

But I ignored the feeling.

Instead, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and walked back to the meeting hall. A small, lingering smile played on my lips.

Rhea and I... we were going to have a baby.

At that moment, I had no idea how much everything was about to change.

As I stepped back into the room, all eyes turned to me.

The conference hall, which had been buzzing with intense discussion moments ago, fell into a strange silence. Dozens of gazes bore into me—some curious, some impatient, and one... sharp enough to cut through steel.

My father's.

Vikram Singh Rathore sat at the head of the long table, his expression unreadable, his fingers interlocked as he rested his elbows on the table. He had spent his life building an empire, a political dynasty that was both feared and respected. And I was his only heir.

He didn't have to say a word.

His silence alone was enough to make my stomach twist.

I took a slow breath, adjusting my suit as I walked back to my seat. My chair had been left slightly pulled out from when I had rushed away.

I slid back into it, lifting my gaze to meet his.

"Everything okay?" my uncle, , asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was my father's right-hand man—a man who could smell weakness like a predator tracking its prey.

"Yes," I said smoothly, leaning back in my chair as if nothing had happened.

But my father wasn't convinced.

He watched me for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice calm but firm.

"What was so important that it made you walk out of this room in the middle of a crucial discussion?"

The weight of his words settled in the air like a storm cloud.

I could feel the curiosity radiating from the other party members.

Sanjay Mehta, our campaign director, was watching me with interest, his pen tapping lightly against the table. Ashok Sinha, the senior advisor, adjusted his glasses, his usual disapproving frown deepening.

Even the younger MLAs and district heads—who normally never spoke unless spoken to—seemed intrigued.

I knew they wanted an answer.

But I wasn't about to give them one.

"Nothing urgent," I replied, forcing an easy smile. "Just something personal. It's taken care of now."

My father's expression remained unreadable.

"Personal?" he echoed, his voice quiet but carrying undeniable authority.

The room was so silent I could hear the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall.

I nodded. "Yes. Nothing that concerns the party."

It was a subtle but deliberate way of closing the topic. A statement that made it clear I wasn't going to elaborate.

Most of the members got the message. Rajveer didn't.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with keen eyes.

"You know," he mused, "one thing I've learned in politics is that personal and professional lives are never truly separate. They always find a way to intertwine."

I gave him a polite smile. "And one thing I've learned is that not everything needs to be discussed in a meeting."

A faint smirk played on his lips, but he let it go.

For now.

My father, however, was still watching me. He knew I was hiding something. But instead of pressing further, he simply exhaled and shifted his attention back to the discussion.

"Where were we?" he asked.

Sanjay immediately straightened in his seat, flipping through the campaign notes.

"We were discussing the upcoming rally in Varanasi," he reminded. "The opposition is planning a massive event there next week. If we don't counter it with something equally impactful, we'll lose the entire region's support."

"Not just any rally," Rajveer interjected. "We need a game-changer."

My father nodded slowly. "Something that reminds the people why they trusted us in the first place."

I listened quietly, trying to refocus my mind.

But I could still feel my phone burning in my pocket.

rhea's words echoed in my mind.

"We need to talk when you get back."

What did she mean by that? Was something wrong?

"Ayaan?"

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts as my father called my name.

"Yes?"

"You'll be handling the Varanasi rally," he stated.

I straightened. "Me?"

Rajveer nodded. "It's time you take a more active role. The people already see you as the face of the new generation. They trust you more than any of us. You need to be there—make speeches, interact with the locals, remind them why we are the better choice."

I should've been prepared for this.

But my mind was still a mess. Rhea. The pregnancy. The unknown weight of her words.

Still, I couldn't afford to falter.

I took a breath and nodded. "I'll handle it."

My father's eyes remained on me for a few more seconds before he finally turned to the rest of the team.

"Then it's decided," he said. "Sanjay, work with Ayaan on the speech. Ashok, ensure we have full media coverage. Rajveer, make sure security is tight. We leave no room for errors."

A series of nods followed.

The meeting resumed.

But even as I participated, discussed strategies, and agreed on plans—my mind was elsewhere.

My hands remained steady, my words confident. But inside, a storm was brewing.

I was going to be a father.

And I had no idea what that meant for the life I was building.

Ayaan pov...

A Few Days Later.....

As soon as the flight landed, I couldn’t stop myself from stepping out quickly. The moment the seatbelt sign turned off, I grabbed my bag and made my way toward the exit. My heart was racing—not because of the journey, but because of what waited for me on the other side.

I hurried through the airport, barely paying attention to the people around me. The only thought in my mind was her.

As I reached the exit, I spotted a black car already waiting for me. Without wasting a second, I walked over and got in. The driver nodded at me and started the engine. The car smoothly merged onto the road, heading toward the city.

I leaned back against the seat, but my mind refused to rest. I turned to look out of the window. The city lights blurred as we sped past them, but I wasn’t seeing any of it. My thoughts were filled with her—Rhea.

A small smile crept onto my lips. Just a few more minutes, and I would finally see her again.

I glanced beside me at the bag resting on the seat. I had spent hours preparing it—choosing every item carefully, making sure it was perfect. Inside were all the things she might need for her pregnancy. Books about prenatal care, soft maternity clothes, healthy snacks, supplements, and even a small teddy bear for the baby.

I had spent nights reading articles, watching videos, and researching every little detail about pregnancy. What she should eat, how she should rest, the changes she might go through—I wanted to be prepared for everything.

I imagined her reaction when she saw these things. Would she be surprised? Would she laugh at my efforts? Or maybe… she would tear up, realizing how much I cared?

I couldn’t wait to see her expression.

The car moved swiftly through the familiar streets, bringing me closer to her. My fingers tapped impatiently on my knee.

Just a little more… and I would be with her again.

The car rolled to a stop in front of her apartment building, and before the driver could say a word, I pushed the door open and stepped out in a hurry. My heart pounded violently against my ribcage, the anticipation clawing at my chest. I barely acknowledged my surroundings as I grabbed the bag beside me and strode toward the entrance, my hands tightening around the straps.

The moment I stepped inside, my eyes darted toward the elevator. I could take it, but waiting for it to arrive, then slowly making its way up floor by floor, felt unbearable. I couldn’t waste another second. My impatience got the better of me, and I turned toward the staircase instead.

With each step I climbed, the pounding in my chest intensified. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was the desperation, the longing, the sheer need to see her again. Every muscle in my body felt wired, like I had been holding my breath for days, and now, I was just moments away from relief.

By the time I reached her floor, my legs ached, but I didn’t care. My heartbeat was erratic, my fingers twitching with nerves. Standing in front of her door, I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm me. My palms were slightly damp, my throat dry.

I lifted my hand, hesitating for a brief moment before pushing the door open slowly. As soon as I stepped inside, my gaze instantly found her.

She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone, completely lost in whatever was on the screen. The soft glow illuminated her delicate features—the slight furrow in her brows, the way her lips parted slightly in concentration, the loose strands of hair cascading over her shoulder.

My feet stayed frozen at the doorstep as I took her in. She looked the same, yet something about her felt different—maybe it was the way she was curled up so casually, or the way her free hand absentmindedly rested against her stomach.

I had spent countless nights picturing this moment, imagining how it would feel to see her again. But now, standing here, nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming rush of emotions crashing over me.

She was right there. So close, yet completely unaware of my presence.

And in that moment, all I wanted was for her to look up and finally see me.

As soon as she looked up at me, her eyes widened in shock. She stood up from the couch, her body going rigid as if she had seen a ghost.

A slow chuckle escaped my lips as I stepped toward her, my heart pounding with excitement. Without giving her a chance to react, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She didn’t move. Her body remained stiff against mine, her hands hanging by her sides. She didn’t hug me back.

I felt it—something was off. But I ignored the unsettling feeling creeping into my chest. I had missed her too much to care.

I held her tighter, closing my eyes as I inhaled the faint scent of her perfume, a scent I had longed for during the days we had been apart.

After a moment, I pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. "Hey?" I waved a hand in front of her face, trying to get her attention.

She blinked rapidly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"What’s wrong, Rhea?" My voice was soft, concerned.

Her expression shifted, and in the blink of an eye, she forced a smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Nothing," she said, shaking her head.

Then, as if suddenly realizing her lack of response earlier, she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me back.

I chuckled, the warmth of her embrace settling something in my chest. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Maybe she had just been surprised to see me.

I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a second before pulling away.

Guiding her back to the couch, I gently held her shoulders and made her sit down. Taking a seat beside her, I reached for her hands, holding them firmly between mine.

"How are you?" I asked, my thumb brushing over her skin.

She hesitated for half a second before smiling. "I’m good."

I let out a breath of relief. "And the baby?"

The moment I mentioned the baby, her body tensed.

It was quick—just a fraction of a second—but I noticed.

Still, she nodded, her movements stiff and unnatural. "Good," she said, avoiding my gaze.

Something about her response didn’t sit right with me. My mind screamed at me to question her, to press for more details. But before I could, I leaned in, my hand moving to cup her cheek.

I wanted to kiss her. To remind her that no matter what, I was here.

But just as my lips were about to touch hers, her phone rang.

She immediately pulled away, putting distance between us. "I’ll just get that," she muttered before standing up and heading toward her bedroom.

I exhaled slowly, raking a hand through my hair.

She had been acting strange.

Brushing off the uneasy feeling, I got up and followed her. I didn’t want to be apart from her, not even for a minute.

When I reached the doorway of her bedroom, she was already on the phone, speaking in a hushed tone near the window.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but something about the way she spoke made me pause.

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

It lacked the warmth, the excitement I had expected when she saw me.

Pushing the thought aside, I let my gaze wander around her room.

The bed was neatly made, the pillows arranged perfectly. A half-empty glass of water sat on the bedside table, and her perfume bottle rested beside it. Everything seemed normal.

I sighed, pulling my phone out of my pocket, planning to set it on the nearby table. But as I leaned forward, my eyes landed on a stack of papers sitting on the dresser.

Hospital reports.

A smile broke across my face.

She must have gone for a check-up. Maybe it had details about the baby’s health. Maybe she had been nervous to tell me something good.

Excitement bubbled in my chest as I reached for the file, eager to read it.

But the moment my eyes landed on the bold letters at the top, my entire world stopped.

ABORTION.

The word screamed at me.

My breath hitched. My fingers trembled.

No.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I scanned the document again, desperately hoping I had read it wrong. That my mind was playing tricks on me.

But there it was, in black and white.

She had aborted our child.

My stomach twisted painfully. A suffocating weight settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I gripped the paper tighter, my knuckles turning white.

Why?

Why would she do this?

My vision blurred, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Did she even plan to tell me? Was she just going to keep pretending?

The blood in my veins turned ice cold as realization sank in.

She had lied.

All those moments when she smiled at me, when she nodded at my questions about the baby—every single one of them was a lie.

The sound of her laughter from the other end of the room made something snap inside me.

I clenched my jaw, my entire body trembling with a mixture of heartbreak and fury.

She had killed our baby.

And she had been lying to my face.

I turned around slowly, the paper still clutched in my shaking hands.

"Rhea."

Her name barely came out as a whisper.

She paused mid-conversation, turning to look at me. Her face remained unreadable, but for a split second, I saw something flicker in her eyes.

Fear.

I held up the report, my voice hoarse with pain.

"What the hell is this?"

Her body stiffened. For a split second, I saw it—the flicker of fear in her eyes. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by something else. Indifference.

She sighed and ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket. Then, as if she was merely tired of a long conversation, she walked past me and sat on the edge of the bed. Her movements were calm, calculated, as if nothing had happened—as if the file in my hands was meaningless.

"You're not supposed to go through my things," she said simply, crossing her legs.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, sharp and cold. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "Are you serious right now? You’re acting like this is nothing!" I gestured toward the report in my hands, my voice rising despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

She exhaled slowly, finally looking up at me, her expression unreadable. "It was my decision and my body."

I clenched my jaw, trying to control the storm inside me. "I respect that it's your body," I said, my voice low, measured. "But we were in this together, Rhea. You didn’t make this baby alone."

She scoffed, tilting her head. "Together?" A humorless chuckle left her lips. "That’s funny. Because as far as I remember, it was me who had to carry it. Me who had to deal with everything. So no, this was never ‘together.’"

I stared at her, my hands shaking as I gripped the file. "So what was I then? Just some outsider? A stranger who had no right to know?"

Her gaze didn’t waver. "It wouldn’t have changed anything. Telling you would’ve just made it harder. You would’ve tried to stop me."

"Damn right, I would’ve!" I snapped, stepping closer. "Because that was my baby too, Rhea! And you just—" My breath hitched, my throat tightening as I forced the words out. "You just erased it. Like it meant nothing."

She rolled her eyes, her tone flat. "It meant nothing to me."

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.

I felt my heart crack, the pain seeping into my bones, into my soul.

"You’re lying," I whispered. "You have to be lying."

She held my gaze for a long moment before sighing. "Believe what you want." She stood up, brushing past me as if this conversation wasn’t ripping me apart. "I need to shower."

And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me standing there, holding the remnants of something I had foolishly believed in.

FLASHBACK ENDS

A single tear slipped down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away. What was the point? I loved her. More than anything. But she never trusted me enough to tell me the truth.

If she had just said something—if she had told me she wasn’t ready, that she wanted to focus on her career, that she simply didn’t want the baby—I would have understood. I would have taken her to the hospital myself, stayed by her side, held her hand through it all. Even if she didn’t want the child, I would have been there. I would have taken care of her.

But she chose to do it alone.

And now, my baby was gone.

A hollow emptiness settled in my chest as I sat there, lost in my thoughts, replaying every moment, every word. I felt like I was sinking, drowning in the weight of it all.

It's been a year since all of these happened. I can't forget any of this. They were one of the most dreadful moment of my life.

Then, my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I blinked, my vision blurry, and pulled the phone from my pocket. Dad.

I hesitated. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, let alone him. But ignoring his call would be disrespectful. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Ayaan, where are you, son?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying concern.

"I had some work to look after," I replied, my voice dull, empty.

Silence. A heavy pause from his side.

"Come home soon. They must be here anytime."

I frowned slightly, running my hand through the sand beneath me, absentmindedly drawing random patterns.

"Okay," I murmured before ending the call.

Letting out a slow sigh, I pushed myself up from the ground. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I dusted off my clothes and walked towards my car.

As I moved towards my car, a strange sound reached my ears—a faint, almost desperate cry. A baby crying.

I stopped in my tracks, my brows knitting together. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe it was just the wind playing tricks on me.

But then, the cry came again, louder this time, more urgent.

Something in my chest tightened. I could have ignored it, walked away, pretended I didn’t hear it. But my feet had a mind of their own. Before I knew it, I was following the sound, my heart pounding for reasons I didn’t understand.

The cries led me to a large tree. There, beneath its shadow, was a basket.

A basket.

My stomach twisted. No. It couldn't be.

I took a cautious step closer, my breath hitching. The sound was coming from inside.

For a moment, I hesitated. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe someone had just left something there, and I was overthinking.

But the cries continued. Weak, desperate.

I couldn't ignore it.

Kneeling down, I reached for the cloth covering the basket, my fingers trembling slightly. With one deep breath, I pulled it back.

And there she was.

A tiny, fragile baby, barely a few days old. Her face scrunched up as she cried, her little hands flailing in the air.

My heart skipped a beat.

What the hell was happening?

Who left her here?

I frantically looked around, searching for someone—anyone. But there was no one. Just silence. Just me and this abandoned child.

The baby’s cries grew louder, slicing through the stillness of the night.

My chest tightened painfully.

Gathering my courage, I slowly extended my hand toward her, my fingers brushing against her soft, damp cheek.

And just like that, she stopped crying.

The air around me felt heavier. The lump in my throat grew bigger.

Without thinking, I reached into the basket and carefully lifted her into my arms.

She was so small. So delicate.

Tears blurred my vision as I gazed down at her.

A single tear slipped from my eye, landing on her cheek.

Before I could even process the overwhelming wave of emotions, another droplet fell.

But this time, it wasn’t just my tear.

I looked up.

And the sky broke open.

Rain poured down in heavy sheets, drenching me within seconds.

Clutching the baby tightly to my chest, shielding her from the cold, I stood up.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

I ran.

Through the rain, through the empty street, my mind blank except for one thought—I had to protect her.

Reaching my car, I fumbled to open the door, quickly settling into the driver’s seat. The baby stirred in my arms, letting out a soft whimper, but she didn’t cry again.

I wrapped her in my jacket, holding her close, my heart still racing.

Taking a shaky breath, I looked down at the tiny life in my arms.

Who was she?

And why was she left here… alone?