Sunlight filtered softly into the room as Aarav lay still, his small body wrapped in warmth he could neither control nor fully understand.
His eyes opened slowly.
The light hit first—too bright.
He blinked, once… then again, his vision struggling to adjust.
Shapes shifted at the edges of his sight, blurred and unstable, refusing to settle—
until, slowly, they began to take form.
Faces.
They loomed above him, large and unfamiliar, all staring down at him.
…What are they looking at?
Their voices reached him, distant at first, then sharpening.
"So small… like a toy."
"He takes after his mother."
Aarav frowned internally.
What kind of nonsense are they talking about?
Another voice cut through, lighter, filled with delight.
"He's so cute!"
A man chuckled softly. "Of course he is."
Irritation rose within him.
I'm older than all of you…
"Aarav…"
The name reached him gently.
He stilled.
Aarav…?
Who…?
"My sweet child, Aarav."
A woman lifted him into her arms.
His thoughts faltered.
What…?
His body felt—
light.
Too light.
His gaze dropped.
His arms—tiny, uncoordinated.
He tried to move. They responded, but sluggishly, without control.
His fingers twitched weakly.
He opened his mouth to speak.
The words formed clearly in his mind—
but what came out was a thin, shapeless sound.
He froze.
That wasn't his voice.
He tried again.
Another weak, helpless noise.
Something was wrong.
Completely.
His control—gone.
The realization settled in, slow and undeniable.
…This isn't my body.
Memories surged forward.
The accident—
the impact—
then darkness.
He hadn't survived.
He had died.
Silence followed.
Then—
Understanding.
He wasn't Rishi anymore.
---
Time passed.
Not in clear moments, but in fragments.
Faint voices. Shifting light.
The hospital blurred into something indistinct.
And then—
Home.
---
The new place felt different.
Warmer.
Quieter.
But no less confusing.
Aarav lay in a small cradle, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts remained sharp, but his body refused to obey. Every movement felt delayed, limited, disconnected.
Yet something else stood out.
The people around him.
He didn't know them.
But they didn't feel like strangers either.
His mother. His father. Even the others.
There was a strange sense of closeness.
Why do they feel… like mine?
---
A sudden discomfort spread through him.
Sharp and unfamiliar.
Before he could react, his body did.
He began to cry.
The sound came out weak and uncontrolled. It frustrated him, but he couldn't stop it.
Footsteps approached quickly.
"Alright, alright… looks like today Papa will have to handle this," a voice said, half-amused.
A brief pause, then with mock seriousness—
"If I don't, your mother is going to scold me for sure."
A softer voice followed from a distance, slightly sharper.
"I can hear you."
Aarav's cries slowed slightly.
His mind caught something else.
Raghav.
The name settled.
Then—
Nandini.
The second voice.
The connection came without thought.
It wasn't learned. It wasn't questioned.
It was simply there.
His father.
His mother.
He went still.
…So this is how it is.
---
Nearby, movement caught his attention.
A small figure stood at a distance, watching him.
The girl.
She didn't speak or move closer.
She just watched.
…Why is she staring?
The thought passed, uncertain.
---
By the next day, things shifted.
She approached.
Carefully.
A toy in her hand.
He had heard the name earlier.
Juhi.
The name stayed.
She extended the toy, hesitated for a moment, then placed it in his hands.
Aarav grasped it instinctively.
His mind observed.
But his body… played.
The movement came naturally, without thought.
A moment later, she snatched it back.
"I didn't give you that to chew!"
Aarav stared at her.
Then—
he laughed.
It wasn't intentional.
It just happened.
And strangely—
it felt good.
---
From the doorway, others watched.
His uncle, Vikram, stood with a faint smile, while Neha watched beside him.
"Juhi doesn't open up this easily," Vikram said.
"But with him… she's already comfortable."
Neha nodded.
Raghav chuckled, clearly pleased.
"What did you expect?" he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "That kind of openness… it comes from me, after all."
Juhi had already walked in, Aarav in her arms.
Raghav noticed, but continued without pause.
"And of course," he added, glancing briefly at Nandini, "from his mother too."
Vikram let out a short laugh.
Neha followed, covering her smile.
Juhi stood there, listening.
Her lips pressed together, trying to hold it in.
Aarav watched them.
That reaction…
His gaze moved from one face to another.
Then—
a small laugh escaped him.
Soft. Uneven.
Juhi broke immediately.
Her laughter slipped out.
And just like that—
the rest followed.
The room filled with quiet, warm laughter.
---
Later that night, the house was quiet.
Everyone asleep.
Except him.
Aarav lay still, eyes closed, pretending.
His thoughts drifted.
He had been noticing it since earlier—
the television, the devices, the shows playing in the background.
Outdated.
Familiar in a way that didn't belong to the present.
And the way people spoke.
Dates mentioned casually.
The same year, repeated.
2004…
The pieces aligned.
This is the past.
Two years before my birth…
Not a guess. Not confusion.
A certainty.
But something didn't fit.
This wasn't his home.
His focus sharpened.
Something is different.
My birth… my parents… they're not the same.
This isn't my life.
It's a different one.
The thought settled, firm and unmoving.
He didn't question it further.
---
His mind shifted.
This place. These people. This life.
He didn't dislike it.
If anything, he liked it.
But something remained.
His past.
His real parents.
What about them…?
Are they here… somewhere?
The question lingered.
Unanswered.
---
"Can't sleep…?" she murmured, lifting him into her arms.
"Come, I'll sing for you."
Aarav resisted instinctively.
A lullaby…? That won't—
The humming began.
Soft at first, barely more than a breath, then steady, carrying a quiet rhythm that settled around him.
His focus slipped.
The tension in his small body eased without his consent, thoughts losing their sharp edges as the sound continued, unbroken.
Even the fragments of his past—
the questions he hadn't answered—
drifted out of reach.
…I'll deal with it later.
A small yawn escaped him.
His resistance faded with it.
He slipped into sleep.
---
Morning came quietly.
Aarav stirred, one eye opening slightly.
A faint glow hovered in front of him.
He squinted.
The shape wavered, edges unfocused at first, then slowly tightening into something clearer.
A screen.
…What is that?
Faint text flickered across the surface.
The characters blurred and shifted, refusing to settle—until one word forced itself into clarity.
Permission.
His focus sharpened.
…Permission?
He glanced around.
No one reacted. No one even looked in his direction.
The glow remained. Steady. Waiting.
Not a reflection. Not a trick of light.
His gaze lingered on it for a moment longer—
then drifted away.
His eyes closed.
Sleep pulled him under.
---
Then—
His hand shifted.
A small, unconscious movement.
Fingers drifting forward, brushing through empty air—until they met resistance.
The surface rippled.
The glow shuddered.
A faint sound followed.
[Permission Granted]
He didn't stir.
The distortion collapsed inward, the screen stabilizing, no longer flickering.
[Binding Initialized]
[Synchronization in Progress]
A timer formed beneath the text.
24:00:00
It began to move.
Slow. Precise.
Counting down.
The room remained silent.
He slept on, unaware of what had already begun.