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तेरे नाल तेरे नाल
प्रीता लइयाँ
वे माही तैनू
खबर नहीं
ओ किने साल इंतज़ार में बिताइयाँ
ओ किने साल इंतज़ार में बिताइयाँ
वे माही तैनू
खबर नहीं
वे माही तैनू
Just as the golden light of the late afternoon slanted across the school grounds, casting a soft warmth over the chaos of Sports Day, two familiar figures sauntered over with the kind of swagger that promised nothing but drama.
Vivaan and Ruhaan.
And true to form, they arrived like walking punchlines.
Vivaan’s eyes immediately locked onto Priya her cheeks slightly flushed, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the Polaroid photo of Prateek receiving his prize.
Vivaan smirked, raising an eyebrow.
“Arre arre… kya baat hai, Priya?” he teased, voice loud enough to gather attention. “Chehra laal, haath mein photo, aur bhaiya se itna close moment? Kya chal raha hai yahaan? Sports day ya Valentine’s Day?”
Priya nearly choked, spinning around to glare at him. “Shut up, Vivaan!”
But Ruhaan wasn’t one to let such moments pass without adding his brand of chaos. He turned to Shagun with a mischievous glint in his eyes, leaning in slightly with a mock-sweet voice.
“Toh madam photographer,” he drawled, “aur meri shagun… ek photo toh hum bhi deserve karte hain, right?”
Shagun didn’t even blink. “No.”
Ruhaan recoiled like she’d slapped him with a flower. “No?” he echoed dramatically, clutching his chest. “Tumne ‘no’ kaha? Mujhse? Public mein?”
She crossed her arms firmly, unimpressed. “Yup. Confirmed. No photos with Ruhaan Malhotra.”
That wiped the smirk off Ruhaan’s face only for a second, but enough to make everyone notice. He gave a theatrical sigh, looking away with exaggerated sadness, his shoulders slumping like the tragic lead of a soap opera.
“Koi baat nahi…” he murmured, voice quieter now, tinged with exaggerated pain. “Koi mere saath photos leta hi nahi. Main itna bhi bura toh nahi hoon… bas… kabhi kabhi acha lagta hai jab kisi dost ke saath ek photo mil jaye… yaad ban jaye…”
He let the last words trail off, like a kicked puppy walking off into the rain. He even dragged his feet in slow motion, halfway turning to walk away, his back to them like he was waiting for a dramatic violin cue.
Shagun blinked once. Twice. Then groaned like the universe had personally cursed her.
“Ruhaan, wait.” Her voice was flat, resigned. “Ek photo le lete hain. Drama bandh karo.”
Ruhaan froze mid-step. He turned back in half a second, face lighting up like a five-year-old promised a trip to the candy store.
“Sachhi??” His voice cracked slightly with excitement.
Shagun rolled her eyes, fully aware of what she’d just signed up for. “Vivaan! Tera camera skills test ho raha hai. Ek photo kheench le.”
Vivaan dramatically saluted. “Aya aya, captain! Frame set kar raha hoon. Ab pose maaro!”
Ruhaan didn’t need to be told twice. He zipped over and planted himself right beside Shagun, grinning like a child who’d just been handed a box of firecrackers.
“Smile, Shuggu!” he said brightly, flashing a V-sign with one hand as he leaned in close.
Shagun barely had time to react. “Don’t call me that…”
Click. Too late. The camera had already captured the moment.
And in that split-second frozen in time, Ruhaan wore his signature goofy peace sign right beside her face, eyes half-squinted in gleeful mischief, while Shagun wore the world’s most unimpressed expression, lips flat, brow raised.
Vivaan was laughing even before the photo developed. He handed the picture over with a smirk.
“Yeh lo, epic memory,” he declared. “Shagun: annoyed. Ruhaan bhaiya: annoyingly happy.”
Priya leaned toward Shagun and muttered under her breath, “You knew what you signed up for.”
Shagun stared at the photo and groaned. “Yeah. And I regret everything.”
But just as she was about to hand it back, Ruhaan gently took it from her fingers.
“Yeh photo toh locker mein jayega,” he said, softly this time, his smile more subdued. “Tumhare saath pehli photo hai yeh. Special.”
Shagun looked up at him.
He wasn’t joking anymore.
His eyes, though still twinkling, carried a rare sincerity. It wasn’t about the photo or the teasing anymore. It was about a memory his first photo with her. Something he would probably treasure far more than he’d ever admit.
And despite herself, despite every wall she’d built with sarcasm and eye rolls…
She smiled. Just a little. And Ruhaan saw it. And didn’t say a word. But his grin? That said everything.
The stage stairs echoed with the soft thump of sneakers as Aditi and Ansh descended, the golden sunlight glinting off their medals. The crowd around the field had begun to dissolve, but a small circle of proud families and chaotic friends waited near the end of the track.
Aditi spotted her parents first Shweta and Amit Mishra stood by the tent with beaming smiles, their expressions glowing with pride. Not far from them, Kiran and Rajveer Singhaniya waited with the poise of people used to seeing their son shine, though even they couldn’t hide the pleased surprise at seeing this version of Ansh slightly flushed, smiling, and… relaxed?
“Aditi!” Shweta called out, her voice bright and full of emotion. “That was incredible, beta! You were lightning out there!”
Aditi walked up with a soft grin, a little breathless but glowing. She dipped her head shyly and leaned into her mother’s side hug. “Thanks, Mumma. Papa.”
Amit ruffled her hair fondly. “Humari khiladi beti. Medal toh expected hi tha… “
Just a step behind, Ansh approached his parents, standing tall, still trying to keep his posture in check though the slight pink at the tips of his ears betrayed his calm front.
“Ansh, my boy!” Rajveer clapped him on the back. “Solid sprint. You just flew today.”
Kiran’s eyes sparkled. “And that smile finally!kitna achaa lag rha tha tujhe aise dekh kar.”
Ansh gave a polite chuckle, his gaze drifting momentarily toward the Mishras, specifically Aditi still tucked under her mother’s arm, cheeks flushed, her braid swinging as she talked. That familiar flutter stirred again in his chest.
And then… the chaos landed.
Ruhaan and Vivaan barreled in like storm clouds with no brakes. “WAHHH WAHHH! GOLDEN JODI KI ENTRY!” Ruhaan sang out.
“Background mein dhol baj rahe the mere dimaag mein to!” Vivaan added, spinning in place and nearly crashing into Rajveer, who merely blinked and stepped aside like he was used to it.
“Ruko zara… sabra karo.” Shagun slipped between them with a sly smile, pulling Aditi slightly aside like it was a casual chat.
From her pocket, she produced a small Polaroid and handed it over with a smirk. “ye le tera winning gift.”
Aditi blinked. “What…”
She looked down. And froze.
It was that moment. Captured mid-photo on stage. She and Ansh, standing side by side eyes turned toward each other, soft smiles, medals catching the sunlight. It didn’t look posed. It looked… natural. Warm. Something too personal for words.
Aditi’s face turned ten shades of red in under two seconds.
“tu pagal hai kya??” she hissed, darting a look around as her heartbeat surged.
“Relax bro! No one saw. Yet.” Shagun winked. “chupa le isse pehle ki samaira didi dekh le”
Without another word, Aditi crumpled the edges slightly in panic and stuffed the photo deep into the side pocket joggers, zipping it shut with the speed of someone hiding state secrets. She could still feel the photo inside, radiating embarrassment like heat.
Meanwhile
Ruhaan had pulled off a covert mission with the elegance of a seasoned spy. On the opposite end of the ground, where the trophy display glittered under the soft lighting, he’d slipped a Polaroid from Shagun’s camera the exact moment she captured it a perfect candid of Ansh and Aditi mid-laugh. Neither of them had realized how close they’d stood. Aditi’s hand brushed Ansh’s arm, their heads tilted ever so slightly toward each other, unaware of the world around them. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a moment.
Ruhaan, clutching the photo like it was the crown jewel of a royal scandal, made his move.
“Ansh yaaar…” he said dramatically, appearing beside him out of nowhere, “soch raha hu tujhe du ki nahi! This is art. This is romance. Poori chemistry branch hai ye to. THIS IS JADOO!”
Ansh, fresh off the prize distribution, was busy removing his medal and trying to appear as stoic and head-boyish as ever until Ruhaan’s words registered.
“Kya?! Kya bakwaas” Ansh choked mid-sentence, turning sharply.
Ruhaan held up the photo like it was a sacred relic. “Don’t you dare disrespect the power of this photograph. Dekh apna chehra! So soft, so lost… like ek bhoola-bhatka aashiq.”
He tilted the photo just enough for Ansh to catch a glimpse. Ansh froze. His heart stumbled. His ears instantly red.
There it was. That laugh. That smile. Her alive in the frame next to him. And him unguarded, open, smiling like the world hadn’t seen before.
Without thinking, he lunged.”Give. It. To. Me.”
Ruhaan danced backward with the agility of a five-year-old guarding the last chocolate.
“HA! Waah beta itni asaani se de du tujhe? Bhool gaya last time bhi mujhe pakad nahi paya tha!”
“Ruhaan…” Ansh warned, his voice low and dangerous.
But Ruhaan was on fire. “Itna cute kab se hone laga tu, haan? Pehle toh sirf ‘rules’, ‘discipline’, aur ‘maintain silence in the corridor’ bolta tha! Ab dekh ek photo mein tu full school rom-com ke poster jaisa lag raha hai. Haye mera laal tamatar!”
Ansh gritted his teeth, his composure visibly crumbling. Just then, a sharp voice rang from behind.
“Kya ho raha hai wahan? Tum dono alag kyun ho sabse?” It was Prateek. Suspicious. Watching.
Ruhaan immediately turned saint-like. “Kuch nahi bhai, bas… fresh air le rahe the. Nature ki god mein rehna zaroori hai. Vitamin D!”
Ansh straightened his T-shirt, face forcibly neutral. “Haan, haan… chill kar rahe the bas.”
Prateek casually said. “jaldi se chup chaap chlo. mammy papa bula rhe h sabko ghar jana hai.”
“Ji haan, sir!” Ruhaan saluted with mock sincerity as Prateek walked off.
As soon as he disappeared, Ansh turned with barely contained rage. “Ruhaan, photo de de warna “
Ruhaan, now smug and satisfied, finally relented. “Thik hai thik hai, le le… Emotional ho gaya tu toh. Waise bhi, tujhse zyada kisi aur ka haq nahi is pe.”
Ansh took it slowly. He held the photo for a beat longer than he should’ve, staring.
Aditi’s smile looked like it had been carved out of something brighter than sunlight. His own expression… startled him. There was no defense in it. No mask. Just him happy.
His lips curved, unbidden. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner. Almost shy.
And Ruhaan, of course, caught it all.
“Oye hoye oye hoyeee. Banda sharma gaya! Head Boy in love! Look at your face, bhai if cuteness could kill, tu abhi wanted list mein hota.”
Ansh blinked and snapped upright, flustered. “Kuch bhi bolta hai… kaha kuch hua? Kuch bhi toh nahi “
But he quickly slipped the photo into the pocket of his joggers like he’d just stashed the Mona Lisa. Patted it down like he hadn’t just stored a personal universe there.
Ruhaan leaned closer, his grin wicked. “Haan beta, kyun nahi? Abhi toh photo hi hai, bas. Tab yeh haal hai. Soch… agar woh tujhe chu le toh kya hoga tera?”
Ansh groaned, running a hand over his face. “Tu pagal hai.”
“Aur tu toh gone case hai, Aditi ke pyaar mein.” Ruhaan wagged his eyebrows.
“Shut up.” Ansh muttered, trying to swat him away, but Ruhaan just leaned in further with glee.
“She smiled back, bro. And that blush?” he whispered. “Pure. Poetry.”
Ansh rolled his eyes, but the blush was back, crawling up his neck and blooming on his ears again.
He adjusted his collar, desperately trying to appear composed. He told himself not to look. But he did. And so did she. Just a flicker. A moment. Their eyes met across the corridor.
And her lips curved slow, warm, shy. That small smile stayed with him. Stayed in him. Ansh looked away, but his expression had softened, the smile from that photo now barely ghosting his own lips.
Ruhaan watched with satisfaction, muttering under his breath, “Bas ab shaadi ki date final kar le bhai.”
And Ansh flustered, red-eared, hopelessly in denial didn’t even argue this time.
—————————————————–
Next Day…
The canteen was a riot of sound clinking tiffin boxes, chaotic footsteps, the occasional burst of laughter bouncing off the old walls. Sunlight filtered through the mesh windows, warming the long metal tables where groups of students gathered like survivors after a storm. A storm called Sports Day.
Aditi sat cross-legged on the bench, the late afternoon sun casting a soft golden glow on her face. A half-eaten aloo paratha rested in one hand, while the other absentmindedly tore at the next bite.
She chewed with a slow, contented pout the kind she always made when eating something she really loved, utterly unbothered by the world around her. Her hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail, but a few rebellious strands had escaped, dancing lazily across her cheeks with the breeze.
Around her, the group buzzed like a livewire.
Shagun, dramatically fanning herself with a torn worksheet, leaned closer and said with a teasing grin, “You’re still stunned like someone who met Shah Rukh Khan instead of just winning a race.”
Aditi laughed softly, “It felt like that. I still can’t believe I didn’t trip on my own feet.”
Across the table, Ruhaan was dipping two samosas in a puddle of ketchup with clinical focus while giving a running commentary on which teacher cried during the final match.
Priya, sipping on her juice, chuckled, “All I remember is us screaming like possessed cheerleaders. My throat still hurts.”
A loud, guttural sigh broke the moment.
They turned to see Vivaan sprawled across two benches, arm across his forehead like a dramatic Bollywood hero recovering from betrayal. His water bottle lay abandoned on the floor, and samosa forgotten to eat.
He suddenly shot upright with enough speed to make nearby students flinch. “GUYS.”
Priya groaned without looking up. “ab kya ghat gaya tera??”
Vivaan pointed a shaky, accusatory finger at Aditi. “Why hasn’t the Champion Mishra given us a party yet?!”
Ruhaan gasped in mock horror and thumped the table. “oh haan! First prize and no celebration? ye to dhoka hai aditi. I feel personally attacked.”
Priya joining the dramatic one’s wiped an imaginary tear. “Aditi, how could you? We screamed your name like backup dancers while you became Beyoncé. And you can’t even fry us noodles?”
Aditi blinked, caught between confusion and laughter. “Party? You’re serious right now?! We’re still on school!”
Shagun leaned in with a cheeky smirk. “Relax, yaar. Nobody’s asking for a five-star buffet. We want your Maggie. Your signature, over-spiced,Aditi-infused Maggie.”
Priya clutched her heart. “YES! The legendary Aditi Special. Made with pure rage and red chilli. Just how we like it.”
Vivaan whispered dramatically, “Chahe jaisi ho… mujhe toh party chahiye hi chahiye.”
Aditi covered her face with one hand and groaned, “You people are impossible.”
Priya nudged her, grin widening. “Ansh bhaiya se toh koi umeed hi nahi hai. Vo toh abhi bhi bol denge, ‘Itna kya karna, ek gold medal hi toh jeeta hai.’ Tu hi kuch kar le, na!”
Shagun nodded eagerly. “Exactly! Your house, your Maggie, your rules.”
Just then, Prateek walked in, holding bottles of juice for the group, only to pause at the group’s explosive energy. He raised an eyebrow.
“What’s going on? This sounds like a war council.”
Shagun stood up with mock reverence. “Prateek bhaiya, your sister here is hiding a top-tier Maggie recipe. party bhi nahi de sakti ye race jeetne par”
Vivaan nodded solemnly. “And she’s denying us. Can you believe it? Samjhao usko.”
Prateek turned to Aditi with the air of a strict parent barely suppressing a smile. “Just say yes, Aditi. Otherwise, ye log ghar ke bahar dharne par baith jayenge.”
Aditi rolled her eyes, but a warm smile tugged at her lips. “Fine! Okay! Today evening. Maggie party. My house. Bring your own stomachs… and don’t cry later about the mirchi.”
Vivaan pumped a fist in the air. “YESS! LONG LIVE CHAMPION MISHRA!”
Ruhaan clapped with glee. “This is the energy I live for!”
The table burst into laughter, their joy echoing through the canteen like music. It was that rare kind of afternoon carefree, comfortable, where teasing felt like love and the simplest things (like overcooked Maggie) felt like tradition.
Then, mid-laughter, Priya blinked and looked around. “Wait… where’s Ansh bhaiya?”
Vivaan snorted. “Probably went to recharge in some cave. Introvert vibes.”
Shagun smirked. “I bet he’s talking to a plant somewhere. Whispering, ‘Thank you for not being chaotic.'”
Everyone laughed. Everyone, except Aditi. Without saying a word, she quietly gathered the last bits of her paratha, wiped her hands, and rose. Her movements were casual at least on the outside.
Ruhaan noticed first. “Ab kahan jaa rahi hai?”
Aditi waved him off with a casual, “washroom. Chill.”
The corridor buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos students spilling out of classrooms, some darting down the hall in a frenzy for food or gossip, others dragging their feet lazily, lost in sleepy chatter. The air was thick with noise, laughter, footsteps, and the clatter of tiffin boxes.
But amidst the noise, somewhere, hearts were still quietly racing.
Ansh stood by the window, untouched by the commotion around him. His posture held the kind of calm that wasn’t performed it just was. Arms folded loosely across his chest, shoulders at ease, his gaze stretched far beyond the school grounds, locked somewhere at the edge of the horizon. As if winning gold, again and again, was nothing more than a routine checkpoint in a journey he never made a fuss about.
There was no celebration in his eyes. No boast in his stance. Just a quiet, unshakable steadiness like someone who knew who he was long before anyone else noticed.
Stillness clung to him, not the kind that begged for attention, but the kind that demanded respect. It wasn’t awkward it was earned. The kind of silence that made people look twice, without knowing why.
He heard the footsteps before he saw her.And then she appeared.
Her presence was like a sudden shift in wind gentle, yet undeniable. Her white school shirt was slightly creased from the day’s chaos, her ponytail tugged slightly loose from all the routine, but that only added to the wild charm she carried. A few rebellious strands danced against her cheeks with every step she took, refusing to stay tamed.
Her cheeks were flushed not from embarrassment, but from joy. Real, undiluted joy. Her lips were curved into the kind of smile that made people believe in goodness. Not dramatic, not over-the-top just right. Simple. Soft. Honest. The kind of smile that could make flowers bloom early, that could make the coldest winter feel like spring.
And those eyes.
Her doe-like eyes sparkled holding a flood of emotions she wasn’t even trying to hide. Happiness. Relief. Pride. A hint of disbelief. And something more… something unspoken.
She wasn’t dressed differently. She wasn’t doing anything particularly grand. And yet, Ansh couldn’t breathe for a moment. Because she had stopped. Right in front of him. Not anyone else. Him.
She wasn’t surrounded by the others now no Ruhaan’s jokes, no Priya’s teasing, no Vivaan’s chaos. Just her. In all her perfectly imperfect glory. Like the universe had trimmed away the noise just for this.
His eyes lingered not inappropriately, not intrusively but with the stunned awe of someone who had just stumbled upon something quietly beautiful. Something they weren’t sure they deserved to look at but couldn’t look away from either.
And for once… even he couldn’t hide the flicker of emotion that crossed his face.
Because in that moment she wasn’t just the girl who had won a race.
She was the girl who had unknowingly stolen something from him he wasn’t sure he had to offer in the first place.
Her breath caught not from running, not from exhaustion but from something else entirely. Something unnamed. Something that fluttered quietly in her chest the moment she looked at him.
She took a small step closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Thank you,” she said.
Ansh turned to her slowly, eyes calm but unreadable at first like still water hiding unknown depths.
“Kis liye?” he asked, his voice low and even, as if her words had taken him by surprise, but he didn’t want to show it.
Aditi held his gaze. Her fingers toyed nervously with the end of her sleeve, but her eyes remained steady, brave in their own quiet way.
“Mujhe pata nahi yeh stupidity thi ya impulse…” she said, her words soft and spilling out like a secret, “but agar aapne uss din mujhe encourage nahi kiya hota… toh main kabhi apna naam bhi nahi deti.”
She paused. The corridor was still, the sunlight warmer now, like it was leaning in to listen. Her voice trembled but not from fear. From honesty.
“I didn’t believe I could,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “Not anymore. Not after… everything. But you didn’t treat me like I was broken. You didn’t pity me. You didn’t push. You just…” she smiled faintly, something raw flickering in her eyes, “…just saw me. Jaise main hoon. And I didn’t know how much I needed that… until you did.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak. His posture didn’t shift, and yet, something in his eyes softened. A subtle, invisible chord had been struck somewhere deep inside him. No grand reaction. Just that small, quiet shift only visible if you were really looking.
“So thank you,” she added, her voice dipping lower, more vulnerable now. “Not just for encouraging me to run… but for making me feel like maybe, just maybe, I deserved to.”
She smiled then slow and small but it reached all the way to her eyes. It wasn’t dramatic or glowing. It was tender. Like sunlight breaking through after a long winter. And it made his breath catch for a second.
He looked at her this girl who moved like chaos and spoke like wind, who laughed like she didn’t know her laugh could fix broken things but in this moment, she felt like stillness.
And then, in that calm way only he could carry, he spoke.
“Tumhare andar toh pehle se tha,” he said gently. “Bas tumne khud nahi dekha.”
His words hung in the air between them not heavy, not rushed. Just full. Full of everything that hadn’t been said, and maybe didn’t need to be.
Aditi let out a soft, slightly awkward laugh more nervous than amused. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers fumbling just a little, grounding herself back into the real world.
“Waise…” she said, shifting gears with a smile that carried just the tiniest hint of mischief, “aaj Maggie party hai. Meri taraf se. Sab log aa rahe hain.”
He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly curious.
She tilted her head, looking up at him with that hopeful glint that cracked through even the most composed hearts.
“Aap bhi aayenge na?” she asked, and there was a softness in her tone now unmistakable, vulnerable.
Ansh didn’t answer right away. He looked at her really looked at her. At the nervous curve of her smile. The flicker of hope she thought she was hiding. The gentle way she was offering this moment to him, like it mattered.
And finally, in that quiet, steady voice that always felt like a promise, he replied,
“tum bulaogi to jaroor aa jaunga.”
It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t grand. But to her it was everything.
Her face lit up, not with drama, but with something softer. Like the sun had peeked through just for her. Like she’d been holding her breath and didn’t even know it until now.
She lingered for one more second, then murmured, sincere and full of unspoken meaning,
“Thank you… for everything.”
And then she turned. Her steps light now, no longer weighed down by self-doubt. There was a spring in her walk that hadn’t been there before. A peace.
Ansh watched her go. The corridor returned to silence. No words. No footsteps. Just fading sunlight and the echo of something warm left behind.
And slowly almost imperceptibly his lips curved into a smile.
Not the smile the world saw. Not the polite one he wore at assemblies. Not the proud one he gave at medal ceremonies.
No. This one… stayed.
The room glowed in soft daylight, a mix of lazy sunbeams and the faint smell of chocolate incense sticks Aditi had lit earlier for “vibes.” It was the kind of mid-afternoon warmth that made everything feel slower, gentler, like a lull in time. A soft breeze fluttered the sheer curtains, casting playful shadows across the floor.
Ruhaan was sprawled upside-down on Prateek’s bed like a melting popsicle, one leg dangling off the side, the other thrown over a pillow. He was deep into a bag of forbidden chips-chips specifically labeled “for guests only”-with the recklessness of someone who believed that rules were optional when no aunties were watching.
Prateek, meanwhile, was perched at his study desk, surrounded by schoolbooks he had no intention of opening. He was grinning like a boy who just found a treasure map-except his treasure was a photocard.
The same one Shagun had given him on Sports Day-the shot where he looked at Priya like she hung the moon, and she, caught mid-blush, glanced bashfully at the camera. The corners of the photo were slightly curled now, worn with how many times he’d held it.
Ruhaan peeked up through a curtain of hair. “Still staring at that thing like it’s a lottery ticket?”
Prateek chuckled dreamily. “Bhai… tune kaha to sahi tha… Priya sach mein bohot achhi hai. Just like a miracle.”
Ruhaan grinned like the cat who’d seen too many love-struck idiots. “Miracle toh tab hoga jab tu usse bolega.”
Prateek’s eyes widened, horror setting in. “Pagal hai kya?? Reject maar diya toh…? Ya phir agar Ansh ko bol diya toh? Meri toh chatni bana dega vo!”
Ruhaan groaned, rolling over dramatically. “hadd hai bhaii. Yahi cheez ab Ansh bhi bolega. Main do best friends ka heartbreak ek saath nahi sambhal sakta!”
“Kuch bola kya tune?” Prateek narrowed his eyes.
“Naah… kuch nahi. Bas keh raha tha… agar tu nahi bolega toh koi aur propose maar dega Priya ko. Phir mat kehna warning nahi di.” Ruhaan said trying to change topic.
Prateek scoffed. “Aise thodi na koi aa jaayega, yaar? Aisa mat bol… Teri Shagun ke saath aisa hua toh tu bolega kya, aise hi?”
“Shagun ko mat ghusa beech mein!” Ruhaan snapped, sitting up straight. “Vo toh meri hi hai. Aur filhaal tu apna dekh. Tune toh batayi tak nahi usse apni feelings.”
Prateek squinted. “Par vo mujhe like karti hai na…? Tabhi toh usne vo letter rakha hoga mere bag mein?” He leaned back, lost in thought.
Ruhaan slapped his forehead. “Tera screw dheela hai kya? Dekh bhai… ladkiyaan kabhi pehle confess nahi karti. Tujhe hi karna padega. Aur agar Priya ne tujhe like karna band kar diya… ya kisi aur ko pasand karne lagi… toh tu dekh lio… bhai bhi nahi banayegi tujhe, seedha ‘bhaiya’ bolke nikaal degi.”
Prateek shuddered. “Arey! Pagal hai kya? Main sabka bhai thodi banta phirunga! Aur Priya ka toh kabhi nahi!”
He didn’t notice the door creak open.
He definitely didn’t notice the goblin in disguise-Aditi.
Dressed in an oversized T-shirt and pajama shorts with a cartoon panda on one leg, she strolled in like she owned the timeline. She was mid-lick of a spoon dipped in forbidden chocolate chip ice cream-also meant “for guests”-but since when did Aditi follow rules?
She stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing. Her brother-grumpy, serious, math-obsessed Prateek-was BLUSHING. And clutching a photo like it was the last samosa on Earth.
Suspicion mode activated. Without a word, she crept up behind him, quiet as a cat raised on K-Dramas and courtroom serials. And then-SNATCH!
“AHA!!!” she screamed triumphantly, yoinking the photo like a ninja-magician.
“ADITI!!!” Prateek jolted so violently, his chair nearly tipped over.
Ruhaan flailed in panic, almost tossing chips across the room. “YEH KYA HUA?!”
Aditi raised the photo high, her expression pure evil genius. She stood on the edge of the bed dramatically, holding the photo aloft like Simba in The Lion King.
“Tabhi main sochu! Tera medal aise kaise kho gaya? Tu toh keh raha tha ‘gir gaya, nahi mila!’ Jhootha! TUNE PRIYA KO DE DIYA!”
Prateek lunged. “Aditi, SHUT UP-SHHHHH!!”
Too late. She’d tasted drama, and she was now drunk on power.
“Tu soch bhaiya…” she said slowly, tapping the photo like a gavel, “Agar Papa ko pata chala ki tu meri best friend ko line maar raha hai na… tu toh beghar ho jaayega.”
She let the moment hang in the air. Then added sweetly, “Ya phir… hospitalised.”
Ruhaan clapped once, solemnly. “Ya phir dono.”
“TU CHUP REH,” Prateek snapped, panic rising.
“Aditi please,” he said, now full-on folded hands, like he was in front of Sai Baba himself. “Don’t tell anyone. Not Priya. Not didi. Not mumma, And definitely not Papa!”
Aditi tilted her head thoughtfully, ice cream still in mouth. “Hmm… tempting. But… what’s in it for me?”
“Matlab?” Prateek asked, wary.
“Commission lagega baat chhupane ka,” she said, casual like she was ordering a pizza.
Prateek blinked in disbelief. “You want a bribe?!”
She nodded, as if he’d finally understood capitalism. “Rishwat. And not just any rishwat. I want your black AC/DC T-shirt. Jo tu pichle Sunday laya tha.”
Prateek gasped like she’d slapped him with a chappal. “Usse toh maine ek baar bhi nahi pehna!”
Aditi met his gaze, deadpan. “Exactly. Agar Papa ko bata dungi, toh kuch bhi pehn nahi payega. Better mujhe hi de de.”
Ruhaan wheezed, fully rolling on the bed now.
“Aditi, that’s emotional blackmail!” Prateek cried.
“Tujhe kya laga, main aarti utarungi teri?” she shot back smugly. “Give me the shirt or I’ll tell Papa.”
Prateek turned to Ruhaan for moral support. “Tu kuch bol na!”
Ruhaan, still recovering, shrugged. “Tune hi toh bola tha ‘chup reh’… ab bhugat.”
Muttering curses under his breath, Prateek stomped to his cupboard and pulled out the precious T-shirt like it was being handed over to kidnappers.
Aditi snatched it like a prize, held it to her chest, then spun around like she’d just won Kaun Banega Crorepati. “THANK YOUUUU!”
She strutted out of the room like a mafia don’s daughter-ice cream in one hand, T-shirt in the other, photo tucked smugly in her pocket.
Prateek collapsed onto his bed like a man defeated, face down, muffled groaning into his pillow.
Ruhaan patted his back solemnly. “Bhai… tu toh gaya.”
But then… footsteps paused at the doorway.
Aditi reappeared, arms folded, eyes twinkling like a villain who just might spare your life.
She stepped forward slowly, pulled out the photo and placed it delicately on Prateek’s chest like it was sacred.
“Le bhaiya,” she said with exaggerated sympathy. “Pata nahi kitni mehnat kari hogi iske peeche tune.”
Prateek blinked. “You’re… giving it back?”
She licked her spoon. “Haan, par T-shirt wapas nahi milegi.”
Then she pointed her spoon at him like a mic. “Aur agar setting karwani ho… you know, ground-level arrangement with Priya… toh duao main yaad rakhna, bhaiya.”
With a final twirl like a Disney sidekick, she exited the room, victorious.
Ruhaan didn’t even wait a beat-he bolted out after her like a man on a mission.”ADITI SUN NA! Shagun aur mera kuch karwa sakti hai kya?? PLEASE yaar… mana mat kario… tujhe bhagwan ka waasta!”
Left alone, Prateek stared at the photo in his hands…
Then at the door where the chaos tornado had vanished.
In the soft glow of the evening light, the kitchen felt like a warm bubble of comfort. The sizzle of the pan, the faint gurgle of boiling water, and the unmistakable aroma of Aditi’s signature masala Maggi wrapped around the space like a familiar hug. She hummed under her breath-some ridiculous, upbeat Govinda number she hadn’t been able to get out of her head since Vivaan had teased her about it. Her ponytail bounced slightly as she chopped vegetables, sleeves rolled up, fully in her element.
Everything felt normal.
And then, just behind her, stood Ansh.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, hovering at the entrance of the kitchen, clutching something small in his hand like it was fragile-or sacred. His presence was quiet but unsure, like a boy sneaking into a temple with a prayer he didn’t know how to speak.
Aditi felt it before she saw him-the faint shift in energy, a gentle tension in the air. She turned, instinctively alert, eyes widening just a little when she saw him. For a brief second, something flickered in her expression-hesitation, maybe even fear. But the moment their eyes met, the panic softened. Her shoulders dropped, and her gaze settled.
“Aa-aapko kuch chahiye kya?” she asked, voice polite but still a little caught off guard.
Ansh looked like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. “Huh… nahii toh… mujhe nahi chahiye kuch-” he fumbled.
Then, realizing he was standing in the middle of her kitchen for absolutely no reason, he blurted the first excuse that came to his mind “Uh… voh actually… paani. Haan, paani chahiye tha. Bahar wala panj garam ho gaya… garmi ho rahi hai na kaafi.”
Aditi blinked, amused despite herself. “Ohh achha… Umm voh fridge mein se le lijiye, bottle mein hoga. Main glass deti hoon?” she asked, already reaching for one with her free hand.
“Nahi nahi, main bottle se hi pee loonga. Glass rehne do.” Ansh quickly replied, trying to be helpful-or maybe just trying to act like a functioning human being.
He opened the fridge, grabbed the bottle, and took a long sip, hoping it would cool the nervous heat climbing up his neck. Aditi glanced sideways just as he drank, her lips twitching into a smile when she noticed the bottle he’d picked.
“Waise itna thanda paani peene se zukhaam ho jaata hai,” she said gently, almost without thinking.
And then-before she could even blink-Ansh froze mid-sip, slowly placed the bottle back, and grabbed a half-filled glass of room-temperature water from the side. He poured half of the cold water into it, mixing it thoughtfully, and then drank that instead.
Aditi paused, knife in hand, heart doing a tiny flip at the ridiculous, ridiculously sweet thing he’d just done.
He’d listened. Not just heard her-but listened.
Her smile this time was real. Soft. The kind that makes you feel warm and a little silly and maybe just a little like you’re floating. But she quickly looked away, hiding it behind her focus on the veggies.
Ansh, now looking even more awkward-like he knew he was on the edge of something delicate-stood there for a moment longer, fidgeting.
Then, clearing his throat, he finally spoke.
“Vo… umm… actually main kuch laya tha.”
Aditi’s hands paused mid-chop. She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Kya?”
He didn’t say anything.
Instead, Ansh walked the few steps forward, placed something gently on the kitchen counter beside her cutting board-a tiny, ridiculously adorable unicorn keychain-and beside it, a small folded note.
Then, without waiting for a response or even daring to meet her eyes, he turned on his heel and walked out, his ears glowing red.
Aditi blinked. What just happened?
She let out a breathless chuckle, her fingers already reaching for the keychain. It was absurdly cute-tiny and chubby, a baby unicorn with a goofy smile and a wild tuft of rainbow hair. Completely unlike anything she’d expect from someone like Ansh.
Which somehow made it perfect.
Then she unfolded the note, her heart beating just a little too fast.
“I know… this might be the stupidest little thing you’ve ever received – But it reminded me of you. Bright. Unpredictable. A little chaotic. And kind of magical in a way you don’t even realise.
For not giving up. For running like hell. And for showing everyone – especially yourself – what you’re made of.
Keep this with you.
Not because it’s special,
but because you are.”
– Ansh
Aditi froze. And then her chest did this weird fluttery thing she wasn’t prepared for. Like all the butterflies she’d carefully kept caged had suddenly decided to dance.
Her eyes softened. Her smile widened-no longer shy, no longer hidden. It bloomed like spring.
She glanced toward the door Ansh had disappeared through, her fingers still tracing the edge of the tiny unicorn.
And in that quiet, golden moment, with masala Maggi still cooking and her heart still trying to make sense of itself, she whispered under her breath with a grin:
“That’s so cute… just like him.”
It wasn’t meant for anyone to hear. It was a thought slipped aloud by accident. A confession not meant to escape her lips.
But just around the corner, not even ten steps away, Ansh heard it.
And in that single instant, the world seemed to pause.
He had been standing there, leaning lightly against the wall, heartbeat already reckless from the act of giving her something so small and yet so terrifyingly personal. He hadn’t dared to wait for her reaction. He just needed air-space-before he exploded from how much he felt.
But then those words-her words-reached him. Soft, unguarded, sincere.
“Just like him…”
His breath caught mid-chest.
His back straightened instinctively. Eyes wide, frozen. Like someone had just pressed pause on his lungs. Like his entire system had been rebooted by a single whisper.
For a moment, he stood completely still-paralyzed in the sweetest kind of disbelief. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or his thoughts. Or the tiny explosion in his chest that sounded dangerously like joy.
His fingers tightened around the edge of his t-shirt as if anchoring himself to something, anything.
His ears burned. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something-anything-but no words came out.
Because somewhere deep inside, something had shifted. Something had softened. And even though he didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even breathe properly for another few seconds…
A tiny smile-rare, real, and utterly boyish-began to pull at the corners of his mouth.
He looked down at his shoes, shook his head once like he couldn’t believe her, couldn’t believe this, and went to the living room which entirely holds a different aroma.
*********************************
That’s all for this chapter, Bubbles… ✨
I hope you enjoyed reading it and staying connected to the story.
don’t forget to vote and comment but no pressure, only if you truly feel connected to it.
Till then, be safe, stay healthy, keep smiling, and never stop reading.
See you in the next chapter! 💫
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