The clock struck midnight, and the house was silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan in Sia's room. She sat at her desk, her fingers trembling as she gripped a pen, staring at the blank sheet of paper before her. The echoes of her mother's sobs from the past seemed to fill the room, though they were just memories now, etched into her mind like scars.

Vani, her mother, had always seemed invincible to the world—a dutiful wife, a loving mother, a pillar of grace. But Sia had seen the cracks in that armor. She had seen the way Vani flinched when her husband's voice rose, the way her laughter faded over the years, the way her dreams had been buried under the weight of compromise.

Sia's chest tightened. She couldn't let her mother's story end like this. Not when she had the chance to change it.

She began to write.
"Dear God, if you're listening, this is not a prayer for me. This is for my mother, the woman who deserves love, respect, and a life free of pain. If there's any way to rewrite her fate, please... let me try."

The words flowed like a dam breaking. Sia poured every ounce of her frustration, her sorrow, her love onto the page. When the letter was finished, she folded it neatly and placed it under her pillow.

As she lay down, exhaustion overtook her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and soon, she was lost in the quiet embrace of sleep.

When Sia opened her eyes, the world was unfamiliar. The walls were painted a soft lavender instead of the muted gray she was used to. The air smelled of freshly brewed tea and jasmine. Sunlight streamed through lace curtains, illuminating a room she had never seen before.

Confused, she stumbled out of bed, catching her reflection in a mirror. The face staring back at her was hers, but it wasn't. The hair was different—shorter, messier. The clothes were strange too, an oversized T-shirt with floral patterns.

She blinked. This wasn't her room. This wasn't her time.

A knock on the door startled her, and a voice called out, cheerful and familiar. "Sangeeta, are you awake? Papa's looking for you!"

she can't understand what is happening to her then Sia start seeing surrounding and she saw calendar of 1998 exact 1 year ago when her mother Vani got married.

Sangeeta. The name sent a jolt through her. She remembered the stories her mother had told her about her best friend, Sangeeta—a vibrant, carefree girl who had died young.

Before she could process what was happening, the door creaked open, and a boy stepped inside. He was tall, with dark, earnest eyes and a gentle smile. His presence filled the room with warmth.

"Ishaan," Sia whispered, the name falling from her lips like an instinct.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay? You look... weird."

She shook her head, trying to focus. This was Sangeeta's brother. 

"I'm fine," Sia replied, forcing a smile. "Just... tired .

 She was here, in 1998, the year her mother had turned eighteen. The year everything had begun to unravel.

As Ishaan left the room, Sia took a deep breath. She didn't know how or why she was here, but one thing was clear: this was her chance. Her chance to rewrite her mother's story and give her the life she deserved.

And it all started with Vani.