Khushi's lips curved into a small, polite smile as she looked at the little boy in front of her.
"So… who are you?" she asked gently, voice light even though her nerves were still tangled from the interview.
Kiaan didn't waste a second. His eyes, sharp and observant, fixed on hers with surprising firmness for someone so young.
"Why did you lie that you know Kiaan Pratap Singh?"
The question hit her like cold water.
Khushi's smile faltered for a heartbeat, then she quickly steadied it, forcing warmth into her eyes. She lowered herself to her knees so she could meet him at his height, hands resting delicately on her lap.
"Little mister," she said softly, tilting her head with playful innocence, "how did you know that I was lying? It's possible that I know Kiaan Pratap Singh."
Kiaan didn't blink. He didn't even look uncertain.
"Kiaan doesn't know you," he said with confident finality, as if he were unveiling a fact carved in stone.
Khushi's throat tightened as she searched for words.
"Ummm… tell me then," she asked with fragile calmness, "how do you know that?"
The boy straightened his shoulders like a tiny king reciting his lineage.
"Because I am Kiaan Pratap Singh."
For a moment the hallway fell utterly silent.
Khushi's smile froze, eyes widening as realization crashed into her. Her heartbeat stumbled, breath stuck somewhere in her chest.
Oh God… why do I always run out of luck? she thought helplessly, misery and disbelief swirling together inside her.
Her gaze remained locked with his — a stranger child holding her lie in his tiny palms — and yet, something in that moment felt strangely important, almost fated.
Khushi let out a shaky sigh, guilt tightening her chest. She slowly lifted her hands to hold her ears, a childlike gesture of apology, her eyes soft and pleading as she faced the boy.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice trembling with honesty. "I shouldn't have lied. I… I just needed this job. I don't know anyone in this city and everything has been so difficult."
Her words thinned into a breath. She looked truly small in that moment — fragile, worn, but gentle.
Kiaan watched her with an intensity far too deep for his age. He saw her helplessness — the way her shoulders curved inward, the way her eyes glistened with unshed fear and hope. Something in his heart softened.
But then his gaze fell to the silver locket resting against her collarbone.
A flicker.
A memory.
Last night — the sound of tyres screeching, headlights blinding his eyes, panic freezing his tiny feet. And then… warm arms wrapping around him, pulling him back. A woman's scent of jasmine and rain. A scarf covering half her face. And around her neck — that exact locket. Glimmering.
His heart thumped hard.
It's her… the angel who saved me.
The angel Mumma sent…
Khushi stood slowly, resolution forming in her eyes. "I should go back," she murmured. "Tell the principal the truth. Lying won't get me anywhere."
She turned and walked toward the office door, palms cold, courage trembling under her skin. Each step felt heavier, but she pushed herself forward.
Inside, the principal looked up, surprised to see her return so soon.
"Yes, Khushi? You wanted to say something?"
Khushi opened her mouth, voice ready to confess — but before a single word could escape, small footsteps pattered rapidly behind her.
Kiaan.
He rushed in, straight to her, tiny arms wrapping around her waist in an unexpected hug. Khushi froze, eyes wide, looking down at him in disbelief.
"Aunty!" he beamed up at her, voice bright and affectionate. "I didn't expect to see you here. You didn't come to my birthday last year!"
Khushi blinked once. Twice.
Birthday? What birthday? What is he saying?
She stared at him, completely confused — yet the child held onto her as if she truly belonged there in his life.
Outside the office, fate seemed to shift quietly — like a thread weaving two destinies together.
Kiaan clung to her side a little longer, as if afraid she would vanish. His voice softened, sweet as butter melting in sunlight.
"I was really upset with you, you know," he said, lower lip pushing out in the smallest pout.
Khushi blinked at him, still crouched slightly in shock. Upset? With me? Her mind was a jumble of confusion and disbelief, but she managed a weak smile, unsure how to reply.
The principal watched them closely, eyebrows raised.
"So you know Khushi, Kiaan?"
Kiaan hesitated — only for the length of a breath. Then he nodded confidently, eyes shining with a clever spark that did not match his young age.
"Of course I know her!" he declared proudly, clinging tighter to Khushi's hand as if anchoring the lie into reality. "I even call her Happiness."
Khushi's eyes widened, stunned. Happiness?
He'd just named her heart in a word she never thought belonged to her.
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She could only stare at him — this boy who was a stranger just minutes ago — now standing beside her as if he'd known her his whole life.
Kiaan wasn't done.
He lifted his chin with innocent boldness. "And not just me. My whole family knows her very well."
Khushi felt her pulse leap painfully. She wanted to correct him — she should correct him — but the way he looked at her, trusting, believing, protecting, made her words freeze in her throat.
The principal nodded thoughtfully, though her eyes were still cautious.
"That's very good then. But rules are rules. For final approval, an elder from your family must confirm this." Her gaze shifted to Khushi. "Bring someone from the Pratap Singh family tomorrow. If they vouch for you, the job is yours."
Khushi swallowed, heart beating too loud. She forced a polite smile.
"Yes, ma'am. I… I'll try."
The interview ended. They stepped out into the corridor together. The door closed behind them with a soft click that echoed like a turning point.
Outside, Khushi leaned against the cool wall for a moment, breath unsteady. She looked down at the small boy holding her hand, still smiling up at her — bright-eyed, warm, oddly familiar.
"You…" she whispered, voice trembling between relief and disbelief. "Why did you do that?"
Kiaan only smiled wider — the kind that wrapped itself around her heart with invisible threads.
Because somewhere deep inside him, he already knew.
She was the angel who saved him.