The prison bathroom was silent except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light above.

Cold white tiles surrounded Khushi from every side. The light flickered once, then steadied. Her trembling fingers held the small pregnancy test as she stared at it.

For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Forgot the bars.

Forgot the prison uniform.

Forgot the sentence that had stolen her future.

All she could see was the result.

A smile broke across her face. A real smile. The first one she had worn in months.

Tears gathered instantly in her eyes, but these were different tears. Happy tears. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"I am pregnant..."

She laughed softly through her tears.

"Arnav will be so happy."

The words escaped her like a prayer.

For one beautiful moment, she allowed herself to imagine his face. The way his eyes would widen. The way he would lift her into his arms.

The way he would call her crazy for crying before he started crying himself.

Their baby. Their child. A piece of both of them.

A future. A family. Hope.

For a few precious seconds, hope lived inside her again.

A few hours later, hope was dead.

Khushi sat alone on the floor.

Her back pressed against the wall.

Slowly, almost without realizing it, she slid downward until she was sitting completely on the cold concrete.

The pregnancy test rested loosely in her hand.

Its face pointed toward the ceiling.

The same result. The same miracle. But now it felt like a curse.

Tears streamed endlessly down her face.

No sobs. No sound.

Just silent heartbreak.

She stared at the test as though staring at it long enough might somehow change reality.

It didn't. Nothing changed.

She was still here. Still trapped. Still sentenced. Still carrying a child whose future had already been stolen.

Her shoulders shook.

She looked up. The small prison mirror reflected a woman she barely recognized. Pale. Broken. Exhausted.

A woman in a prison uniform.

A woman carrying Arnav's child.

A woman who had already made a decision that was tearing her apart.

Her eyes met her own reflection.

I have to hide my pregnancy from Arnav.

The thought struck her like a knife.

She closed her eyes.

Because saying it inside her head somehow made it real.

Later, inside her prison cell, she sat alone on the narrow bed.

An ultrasound image rested in her hands.

Tiny. Fragile. Beautiful.

She traced the edges of the paper with trembling fingers.

"Our child..."

Her voice cracked.

"...will never know its father."

The words shattered something inside her.

Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach.

For the first time. Slowly. Tenderly. Terrified.

Her palm rested there as though trying to protect the tiny life growing within her.

A life that had done nothing wrong.

A life that deserved everything.

Love. Family. Freedom. A father.

And she was about to take one of those things away.

Tears blurred her vision.

I'm sorry, little one.

Her lips trembled.

I'm so sorry.

The prison corridor stretched endlessly ahead.

Gray concrete. Steel doors. Cold silence.

Khushi walked slowly down the center of it.

Small. Fragile.

Almost swallowed by the prison around her.

Behind her, her shadow stretched long across the floor. Not ahead of her. Behind her.

Like the woman she used to be.

Like the life she was leaving behind.

"Sharma. Visitor's room."

A guard's voice echoed through the corridor.

Khushi didn't react. She already knew. She had known since morning. Known since the moment she made her decision. Her steps never stopped.

Then suddenly she paused. Her fingers rose toward the necklace around her throat. The silver pendant. The one she had never removed. The one Arnav had given her. For half a second she held it.

A choice. One final chance to turn back.

To tell him the truth. To let him love her. To let him know about their baby. Her eyes closed. Then her hand fell away.

I am sorry, Arnav.

A tear slipped free.

I have no choice.

Through the scratched glass, she saw him.

Arnav.

Already waiting. Already watching the door.

His suit was wrinkled. His face was exhausted. Legal folders were stacked beside him. The one on top sat clearly visible.

FINAL APPEAL — DENIED.

Khushi froze. Her breath caught. He didn't know she could see it. But she could. And suddenly she understood.

He had spent everything.

Every resource. Every favor. Every ounce of hope. Fighting for her. Trying to bring her home. And still... It wasn't enough.

The heavy iron door buzzed. Khushi stepped inside.

The moment Arnav saw her, something inside him moved.

His entire body leaned toward her instinctively.

Like a compass finding north.

Like every broken piece of him had suddenly remembered where it belonged.

His eyes traveled over her prison uniform.

Pain flashed across his face. Raw. Immediate. Unhidden.

Khushi nearly broke right there.

But she couldn't.

Not anymore.

Arnav pressed his palm flat against the glass.

His eyes searched her face desperately.

"I'm close, Khushi."

His voice carried hope he no longer possessed.

"One more appeal. I promise."

Khushi sat down.

Immediately, her hands disappeared beneath the table.

Hiding the trembling. Hiding herself. Hiding her child.

Her eyes drifted to his palm against the glass.

Waiting. Hoping. Begging her to meet it. She didn't.

Because if she touched him, she would tell him everything.

And if she told him everything...

He would never let her go. Her chest tightened.

I have to break his heart...

Her vision blurred.

...before they break him.

Finally she looked up. Their eyes met. For the first time. And the look in Arnav's eyes almost destroyed her.

Love. Pure love.

The kind that survives anything. The kind that refuses to die. The kind she was about to betray.

"Arnav."

Her voice sounded distant. Flat. Practiced. Like she had repeated these words a thousand times inside her head.

"Let's break up."

The shock hit him instantly. She watched it spread across his face. But he refused to accept it. Refused to hear it. As if ignoring the words could erase them. As if reality itself would bend for them.

"Forget everything, Khushi..."

His voice was soft. Desperate. Broken.

"Just remember..."

His eyes never left hers.

"...I love you."

Khushi looked down. Because if she kept looking at him she would fail. Her throat burned. Her heart screamed. But she forced the words out. Louder this time. Sharp enough to cut both of them.

"I don't love you."

Silence. The kind that hurts. The kind that changes lives.

Arnav's eyes dropped. To her collarbone.

To the silver necklace.

Still there. Still around her neck. Still betraying the lie she was trying to tell.

His jaw tightened.

"Then why are you still wearing it?"

Flashback - Sunlight.

Warm golden morning light. Their bedroom. Laughter. Peace.

A world untouched by prison walls. Untouched by pain. Arnav stood behind her.

His hands moved gently around her neck. Fastening the necklace.

Neither of them in any hurry. Neither of them knowing how precious that moment would become.

Khushi smiled. Arnav smiled back.

His fingertips brushed her skin.

"Our symbol of forever."

The memory vanished.

Prison returned.

Cold. Merciless. Real.

Khushi gripped the pendant tightly. So tightly it hurt.

Forgive me, Arnav.

Then she pulled. The chain snapped. The sound was tiny.

But it felt louder than a gunshot.

The broken necklace fell into the counter slot between them.

Gone. Just like that. One tear slid down her cheek. Only one.

Everything else about her became stone. She built a wall behind her eyes. A wall strong enough to survive what came next. Strong enough to survive him.

"It's over."

Arnav stood so suddenly his chair scraped backward.

His hands slammed against the glass.

"No."

His voice shook.

"I don't believe you."

His breathing became uneven. Desperate. Frantic.

"Ten years."

His eyes shone with tears.

"Twenty."

His voice cracked completely.

"I will wait."

Then he reached through the slot beneath the glass.

And found her hand.

For one second. Only one second. She let him hold it.

The warmth of him. The familiarity. The love. Everything she was giving up. Everything she was destroying. His fingers tightened.

As though he could hold her in this world through sheer force of love. As though he could stop her from slipping away.

"We'll have our baby, Khushi."

The words shattered her.

"We talked about this—"

Tears filled her eyes. Her face betrayed her. Her heart betrayed her.

Every part of her betrayed her. Everything except her words.

"There will be no baby."

The lie left her lips.

And something inside her died.

Under the table, hidden from him.

Hidden from everyone.

Her hand rested against her stomach.

Protective. Tender. Apologetic.

The truth stayed there.

Between her heartbeat and their child.

While across the glass, the man she loved watched his entire future disappear.

And neither of them knew which heartbreak would hurt more.

The one she had just given him.

Or the one she would carry for the rest of her life.