AUTHOR POV

Four years had passed.

Siya found herself running after Agastya, her mischievous little boy who seemed to have inherited all of his father Rakshit's playful nature.

She called out to him, out of breath, as he giggled and dodged her attempts to catch him.

Rakshit watched them from across the room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Siya, don't run like that," Rakshit gently warned, but Siya, resting her hands on her waist, shot him a look.