Scene:
EXT. ESTATE GARDEN – THE MORNING AFTER THE FIRE
The sun had risen, as if gently asking the world, "Are you okay now?"
Golden light poured through the clouds, soft and forgiving. The chaos of the fire was gone — only a few charred corners of the estate remained as quiet witnesses to the night before. The air was fresh now, smelling of damp earth, jasmine, and new beginnings.
In the far corner of the estate, Aahi sat by the lotus pond, a place she often went to feel nothing and everything at once.
The water glimmered with sunlight. A koi fish swam lazily beneath lily pads, undisturbed. Aahi sat barefoot on a carved white bench, dressed simply in a peach-colored cotton kurta, her hair braided over one shoulder, a soft shawl draped loosely across her lap. A book rested in her hands, but she wasn't reading.
She was just being.
Soft. Quiet. A still soul in a restless world.
And then…
Footsteps.
Light, hesitant, approaching from the garden path.
"Aahi?"
She turned her head slowly, already smiling — not out of politeness, but with that gentle warmth she carried so effortlessly.
Standing there, just a few feet away, was the woman she had carried out of the flames.
Eela.
She looked better — clean, dressed in a simple lavender kurti, her arm still wrapped in bandages. Her eyes were full — not with tears, but with gratitude too big for words.
She held something in both hands: a brown paper bag, crinkled at the top, as if she'd gripped it tightly all morning.
Aahi stood, eyes soft.
"You're alright."
Eela nodded slowly, blinking. Her voice wavered.
"Because of you."
She took a few steps closer.
"You didn't even know me. You just… ran into the fire. For me."
Aahi gave a quiet smile, the kind that said more than a hundred words ever could.
"You were calling," she said gently, "and no one came. So I did."
Eela swallowed.
Then — her eyes shining — she extended the bag toward her.
"I didn't know how to thank you. So… I made these."
Aahi blinked, her expression softening further.
"Cookies?"
Eela nodded, cheeks warming.
"I'm not rich. I don't have big gestures or grand gifts. But I bake. It's how I show love. It's what I do when I care."
There was a pause. The wind moved softly through the garden. A few petals fell from a nearby tree and landed near Aahi's bare feet.
She accepted the bag with both hands — carefully, reverently.
Opened it slowly.
The smell of butter, vanilla, and something cinnamon-kissed drifted out. Inside were golden, homemade cookies, all shapes and sizes — not perfect, but wholehearted.
Aahi inhaled the scent and closed her eyes for a second.
When she opened them, her smile was radiant.
"They smell like memories," she whispered.
"Like childhood… like peace."
Eela sat beside her when Aahi gently patted the bench.
Aahi offered her one of the cookies.
"You first."
They both bit into the soft, warm sweetness at the same time.
Eela let out a quiet laugh.
"Still warm?"
Aahi nodded. "Still full of love."
And then silence. But not the kind that's empty. The kind that's full — of unspoken affection, of wordless understanding.
They sat together beneath the morning sun, the pond glittering beside them, sharing cookies and something else, too — something rare.
A moment of real connection.
Eela looked at her, eyes glassy.
"No one's ever done that for me before. Run into fire."
Aahi turned her face toward her, brushing a strand of hair away from her own cheek.
"Then maybe the world owed you one moment of courage."
A soft pause.
"And I was just there… to deliver it."
Eela reached out and gently touched her hand.
"I won't forget you, Aahi."
Aahi squeezed her hand back.
"You don't have to. Just live well. That's more than enough."
And they sat there like that, fingers loosely intertwined, two strangers turned into something gentler — friends, souls, sisters in spirit — joined not by blood, but by bravery and a paper bag full of love.