Timeline:
Devayn: 5 years old
Ziyana: 1 week old
Aarav (Ziyana’s elder brother): 10
Veer (Ziyana’s second brother): 3
Rudra (Devayn’s elder brother): 8
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The Rana household still smelled like new beginnings.
The kind of scent that clung to cotton blankets, freshly bought baby clothes, and the air of a house where a new life had just entered. A soft hush covered the house — not silence, but something gentler. Sacred.
Inside, little Ziyana Rana, just a week old, slept peacefully in her crib, wrapped in the softest pink blanket, her fists curled near her chin like a little warrior already learning how to fight the world.
It was afternoon when the doorbell rang.
No one expected a guest.
Arshia Rana walked over, wiping her hands, and opened the door.
What she saw made her freeze in place for a second.
Devayn Khurana, just five years old, stood there.
Alone.
Hair tousled. Face blank.
And in his hand… a headless toy doll with one arm missing, held like it was the most precious thing he owned.
> “Aunty…” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.
“Can I… play with her?”
Arshia blinked. “With… who, beta?”
> “Her. Ziyana.”
He didn’t even need to point. His eyes flicked toward the crib inside.
Just then, Aarav, Ziyana’s 10-year-old brother, came up behind his mother and folded his arms.
> “She’s a baby, Devayn. She can’t play. She doesn’t even move properly.”
But Devayn didn’t flinch.
He stepped forward just a little and held up the broken doll.
> “I brought her this. She can keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”
Aarav frowned, confused. “What’s wrong with you? She’s one week old, stupid.”
Still no reaction from Devayn. Just that same stillness — the kind that made adults uncomfortable.
> “I know,” he said slowly.
“But I still want to be near her.”
Behind him, a shriek of joy — “Devu!!!”
Veer, the youngest Rana brother, ran barefoot through the hallway and crashed into Devayn’s legs with a tight hug.
Arshia watched it all — the doll, the silence,
She could have said no.She should have, maybe.
But something about that boy — five years old, eyes older than most men — made her open the door just a little wider.
> “Wash your hands first because she is small nah ,” she said softly. “Then you can sit beside her crib.
Devayn nodded once — and walked in like he already knew the map of the house by heart.
---
Inside the room…
The curtains swayed gently with the wind. A lullaby played softly from a music box.
Devayn climbed up on the chair beside the crib and stared.
She was so small.
So pink and fragile and alive.
Her eyelids fluttered in sleep, and she made a soft sigh, like her dreams were made of clouds.
Devayn placed the broken doll next to her gently. As if offering a piece of himself.
He didn’t touch her.
Didn’t even speak.
He just sat still… and watched.
And then, in a whisper only the wind heard —
> “You’re the only thing I don’t want to break.”
---
Outside the room, Aarav whispered to Arshia:
> “Mumma… is he okay?”
She looked at her son.
Then at Devayn through the open door — the quietest boy in the house, who had never smiled at anyone... but had just given away his favorite toy to a baby who didn’t even know his name.
> “I think,” she said softly,
“Ziyana just became his whole world.”
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