The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sprawling skyline of Bengaluru. Skyscrapers stood tall, their glass facades reflecting the last light of the day, shimmering like molten gold. The streets below pulsed with life—cars honked in chaotic harmony, weaving through narrow lanes, while street vendors called out their final offers, their voices blending with the distant hum of the city. Somewhere in the distance, the faint melody of a street musician's tune floated through the air, swallowed now and then by the rush of passing vehicles.
Above it all, the sky burned with hues of crimson and violet, streaks of amber slicing through the clouds like a painter's final brushstrokes on a masterpiece. The warm breeze carried the scent of roasted peanuts and the faint tang of rain on concrete, a promise of an approaching night. Birds fluttered toward their nests, their silhouettes sharp against the dying light.
For a moment, time seemed to slow. The world stood still, as if the city itself paused to admire the fading beauty of the day. But beneath the quiet grandeur of the setting sun, life continued—relentless, unbothered, moving ever forward, just as it always had.
Rohan walked down the bustling streets of Bengaluru, his polished shoes tapping against the pavement, the hum of the city wrapping around him like a familiar embrace. The evening air was thick with the mingling scents of street food—spiced samosas sizzling in hot oil, the buttery richness of dosas crisping on iron griddles, and the earthy sweetness of chai brewed fresh on roadside stalls.
Neon signs flickered above him, illuminating the shopfronts that lined the road. Designer boutiques stood shoulder to shoulder with decades-old bookstores, their windows filled with stories waiting to be read. A jewelry store glowed with the warmth of gold, delicate necklaces and bangles shimmering beneath soft lights. Rohan's gaze drifted over them all, not out of interest, but habit—a relic of a time when he had walked these streets as a nobody, before the weight of a multimillion-dollar empire rested on his shoulders.
He let out a quiet breath, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored suit. Even now, away from conference rooms and stock market reports, his mind buzzed with unfinished tasks. Deals waiting to be finalized. Contracts awaiting his signature. The never-ending race of power and ambition. Yet, for a brief moment, there was peace in this walk—a pause in the chaos of success.
Then, the world shattered.
A sharp gasp from the crowd. A sudden stillness in the air.
Rohan's head snapped toward the street. A boy, no older than seven, stood frozen in the middle of the road, his tiny hands clenched at his sides. His wide, terrified eyes were locked onto the blinding headlights of an oncoming truck. The massive vehicle hurtled forward, its horn blaring through the night, its driver slamming the brakes too late.
A split second.
Rohan didn't think—his body moved before his mind could catch up.
The world blurred around him as he broke into a sprint, his heart pounding against his ribs. The sound of his own breath roared in his ears. He lunged forward, reaching the boy just in time, his hands grabbing the child's small frame and hurling him out of harm's way.
And then—impact.
A force like a wrecking ball slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. A sickening crack echoed through his skull. Pain exploded through his body—sharp, unbearable, drowning everything else. He was thrown backward, his vision tilting wildly as he hit the ground.
The night sky stretched above him, endless and indifferent, the city lights swirling into a kaleidoscope of colors. He could hear voices, muffled and distant, people rushing toward him, hands pressing against his wounds.
"Call an ambulance!" someone shouted.
He wanted to speak, to reassure them, to tell them it was fine—but his voice wouldn't come. His chest burned, his breaths shallow, the warmth of his own blood seeping into his clothes.
The sirens came fast, their wailing sound cutting through the haze of pain. His body was lifted, placed on a stretcher, the world shifting around him. The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance painted the buildings as they sped through the streets.
But Rohan wasn't afraid.
Strangely, there was a calmness in his fading thoughts. He had spent his life climbing, running, striving—always chasing the next goal, the next victory. But now, in these final moments, there was only stillness.
Is this how it ends?
His eyelids grew heavier. The city outside the ambulance windows blurred. The voices around him faded.
And then—darkness.
Weightless. Boundless. Drifting.
Rohan could feel himself moving, though there was no ground beneath him, no air to carry him forward. He was floating through an abyss, an endless expanse of nothingness that stretched beyond comprehension. There was no sound, no light—only the strange sensation of being untethered, as if he had been freed from the very constraints of existence itself.
Yet, he was aware.
Memories clung to him like fragments of a shattered mirror. The towering skyscrapers, the scent of roasted coffee, the blinding headlights of the truck—flashes of his life flickered in and out of focus. He had died. He knew that with absolute certainty. But if death had claimed him, then what was this? Where was he going?
A sudden force pulled at him, something unseen yet undeniable.
It was as if an invisible current had seized his soul, dragging him toward an unknown destination. The nothingness around him began to twist and ripple, shifting like the surface of a disturbed pond. A faint warmth spread through his being, a stark contrast to the chilling emptiness he had floated in moments before.
Then, he felt it.
A heartbeat.
Not his own.
It pulsed softly, steady and rhythmic, wrapping around him like an embrace. A strange warmth enveloped him, pulling him deeper into its presence. Before he could react, his very essence seemed to latch onto something—something small, fragile, yet undeniably alive.
And then—sensation.
A rush of overwhelming stimuli flooded his senses. Sound, muffled yet unmistakable, reverberated around him. A distant voice, soft and gentle, cooing in an unfamiliar tone. The sensation of warmth, of being enclosed in something protective, cradled in an existence that felt both foreign and oddly familiar.
He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. His limbs felt weak, barely formed, as though they belonged to something… new.
What… is this?
A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, heavier than any fatigue he had ever known. His thoughts, muddled and sluggish, barely pieced together the truth before the darkness took him once more.
As he drifted into sleep, one final thought echoed in his mind.
Where… am I?
A soft, golden light filtered through his heavy eyelids. The warmth that surrounded him was unlike anything he had ever known—comforting, safe, almost sacred. His tiny body, weak and unfamiliar, barely responded to his attempts to move. Every muscle felt fragile, every breath a strange new experience.
Then, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was her.
She was breathtaking.
Emerald green eyes, shimmering like cut gemstones, gazed down at him with a tenderness he had never known. Their depths held a quiet strength, an unspoken promise of warmth and protection. They sparkled with something ethereal, something that felt almost unreal in their beauty.
Her face was a masterpiece of delicate features—high cheekbones, soft lips, and a graceful elegance that made her seem almost otherworldly. Strands of rich, warm brown hair framed her face, cascading in soft waves down her shoulders, their glossy sheen catching the light. The way her hair moved, effortlessly smooth and fluid, only added to the quiet allure she exuded.
She held him close, her embrace gentle yet secure, as though cradling the most precious thing in the world. The faint scent of something sweet and familiar lingered on her skin—a fragrance he had no words for, yet instinctively found soothing.
And then it struck him.
This woman… she is my mother.
The realization hit like a silent thunderclap, rippling through his mind with undeniable certainty. In his past life, he had never known a mother's warmth. He had been an orphan, raised by the cold logic of the world, carving his own path without the guidance of a parental hand.
But now… he was reborn.
The truth of his situation settled in with remarkable clarity. He was no longer Rohan, the CEO, the man who had built an empire with sheer determination. He was a newborn, wrapped in the arms of a woman who looked at him with a love he had never experienced before.
Yet, he did not panic.
Unlike what one might expect from someone in his situation, he did not flail or scream in disbelief. There was no overwhelming fear, no madness clawing at his sanity. He had always been logical, calm—able to see through chaos and grasp the truth of any situation with an analytical mind.
This was no different.
He had died. He had been reborn. And now, he had a mother.
As exhaustion began to pull at him once again, his newborn body too weak to resist sleep, he allowed himself one final thought before darkness claimed him.
Perhaps… this time, life will be different.
And with that, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the warmth of her embrace.
A soft rustling sound pulled him from the depths of sleep.
Rohan's eyes fluttered open, his tiny body instinctively shifting as he tried to adjust to his new surroundings. The warmth from before—the comforting embrace of the woman who had cradled him—was gone, replaced by a different sensation. He was still being held, but the arms wrapped around him now were smaller, gentler, yet steady with an unspoken certainty.
His gaze slowly adjusted to the light, and as his vision cleared, he took in the world around him.
The room was breathtaking.
A living space, yet so opulent it resembled something out of a royal palace. Chandeliers cast a soft golden glow over the pristine marble floors, their intricate designs refracting light like cascading diamonds. Ornate furniture, carved with delicate artistry, was arranged with an effortless elegance. Velvet curtains framed massive windows, their sheer fabric swaying ever so slightly in the gentle breeze. The air carried a subtle fragrance—something floral and refined, a scent that spoke of wealth and sophistication.
Everything about this place exuded luxury.
Yet, despite the grandiosity of the room, Rohan's attention was drawn entirely to the person holding him.
She was a child—perhaps no older than seven—but there was something striking about her presence.
Her rich, brown eyes held an almost magnetic quality, deep and soulful, as if she saw far more than a girl her age should. There was a quiet but undeniable power behind her gaze, a wisdom that went beyond innocence, beyond mere childhood curiosity. The way she looked at him was not just with affection, but with an understanding that felt profound, as if she could already sense something special about him.
Her beauty was understated, natural, yet something about her face made it impossible to look away. The warmth in her expression was genuine, inviting comfort, yet there was an unmistakable spark in her—one that suggested hidden depths, untold stories, and an unshakable strength waiting to bloom.
She held him close, her small hands supporting his tiny frame with care and protectiveness.
And then, she spoke.
"He's so cute…" she whispered, her voice soft, yet carrying a quiet certainty.
Rohan's newborn body was too weak to react the way his mind wanted to. He wanted to speak, to ask questions, to understand the world he had been reborn into—but all he could do was stare.
The realization settled within him.
He was no longer the man he used to be. He was a newborn child in a new life, in an unfamiliar yet undeniably privileged environment.
And this girl… was likely his sister.
The thought should have unsettled him. But instead, for the first time in his two lives, he felt something entirely foreign.
A strange, unfamiliar sense of belonging.
As exhaustion pulled at him once more, his tiny fingers twitched slightly in the girl's grasp. He wanted to hold onto this moment, but his newborn body betrayed him, dragging him back into the depths of sleep.
The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was her face—watching over him with those deep, enigmatic eyes, filled with a warmth he had never known.