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आसमाँ सितारों से छलकने लगा
चाँद सा तू जो मुझमें चमकने लगा
रहूँ तेरे यूँ पास मैं, बनूँ तेरा एहसास मैं
यार, जी लूँ आ तेरी हर साँस मैं
शाम सा तू ढलता, तू सुबह सा है निकलता
तेरे साए में चलता, मैं हूँ साथ तेरे, मैं हूँ साथ तेरे
don’t forget to vote for this chapter…(50+ kara dena pleasee….)
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“You all know, don’t you?”
The light chatter dissolved in an instant, like wind snuffing out a flame.Stillness fell heavy. No one moved. No one spoke. Aditi’s voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It sliced through the morning like glass.
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. Not amused but broken. “I should’ve realized earlier. The way you all… look at me. Like I might disappear if you blink too hard.”
Shagun shifted on her feet, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Aditi…”
“Don’t.” Her tone was razor-sharp, calm only in the way a storm is calm just before it breaks. “All of you have been walking on eggshells around me. Talking softer. Laughing quieter. Like I’m made of glass.”
She looked around, her eyes settling on each face, one by one until they flinched beneath the weight of her gaze. “You’ve known. Haven’t you?” Her voice lowered. “About that day. About what those boys did to me.”
Samaira opened her mouth, but Aditi cut her off, her voice trembling now, though her eyes burned with fire.
“And you… you three…” she pointed at Samaira, Prateek, Shagun. “You told them. In my absence. Without asking. Without warning.”
Prateek’s expression cracked. “We were worried…”
“Worried?!” she snapped, a laugh, cold and hollow, escaping her. “You thought you were helping me? You thought I’d be grateful that you aired my trauma for me? That I’d thank you for taking the last bit of control I had?!”
Her voice shook, but her rage was clear now fueled by shame, betrayal, and something far deeper. “I couldn’t even protect myself that day. I was weak…helpless… and now… now I couldn’t even protect my story from slipping out of my hands.”
Her hands balled into fists. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? To sit in a room with your friends and wonder if they’re smiling at you or pitying you? If they’re talking to you or to that… scared, violated girl you were on that day?”
She paused, chest rising and falling quickly. Her next words dropped like stones. “I can’t trust anyone anymore. Not completely. Not even myself.”
Vivaan stepped forward, unsure, but Aditi’s eyes stopped him cold.
“Why can’t I just be normal again?” Her voice cracked fully now. “Why can’t I joke like before without overthinking it? Why do I still feel dirty, broken… wrong? Why do I still flinch when someone touches my hand?”
Nobody had answers. They only had guilt.
“You don’t need to be like before.” Ansh’s voice came sudden, low, firm, and unshaken. Like a single thread holding a fractured glass together. All heads turned toward him. But he was only looking at her.
“You survived something most people never recover from,” he said. “And this morning… you walked out and danced like the sky was yours. Like the weight didn’t crush you. You didn’t hide. You didn’t quit. That’s not weakness, Aditi. That’s strength the kind most people will never understand.”
Her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. But she didn’t look away.
“You don’t get to hate yourself,” he added softly, stepping just a little closer. “Not for someone else’s violence. Not for someone else’s crime.” His voice broke slightly. “You’re not broken. You’re not disgusting. You are still you. And you’re more than enough.” Silence fell again, but this time, it was sacred. Like no one dared interrupt what was unfolding. Aditi’s lip quivered.
“You have every right to be angry,” Aman said gently, stepping forward. “But don’t shut us out. We’re still here.”
Priya nodded, her eyes glistening. “We’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever. You can scream. Hate us. We’ll still be here.”
Ruhaan’s voice was quieter than usual, but every word struck firm. “That day didn’t make you less, Aditi. It didn’t steal your worth. You’re more powerful for standing after it.”
Samaira took a small step forward, her voice cracking. “You can hate me for telling them. You probably should. But please… don’t hate yourself. And don’t push us all away. Not when we’re finally here.”
Aditi stood frozen. She looked like she might crumble again, like the grief inside her might rip her apart at the seams. And then,Vivaan moved. Without asking, without speaking, he pulled her into a tight, fierce hug.
“You don’t have to carry this anymore,” he whispered. “Not alone.”
Her arms didn’t move at first. She stood stiff, frozen. And then, Shagun joined. Then Priya. Aman. Samaira. Ruhaan. Prateek. Their arms formed a cocoon around her, steady, unwavering, full of everything she didn’t know she needed.
And that was when her breath broke. A silent, shuddering sob escaped. Her arms trembled. Her body sank into the warmth. She didn’t cry loud. But the way her shoulders shook, the way she gripped their clothes like lifelines, it was more honest than any scream.
Still, Ansh didn’t move. He stood a little behind, his hands at his sides, fists clenched to hold in the ache that had taken root somewhere deep.
Because just an hour ago, she had danced like fire. And now… she was breaking apart right in front of him. It was a pain he hadn’t prepared for the kind that made you want to punch something, scream at the universe, give her everything just to take that look out of her eyes.
But he didn’t speak. Didn’t step forward. Because this wasn’t a moment for him to be seen. This was a moment for her to be held. Still, in his silence, one thing carved itself into his bones like a vow… She may never know how deeply he felt. But she would never again be alone in that pain. Not if he had breath left in his body
The warmth of the group hug still lingered on the terrace. Laughter had returned, slowly. Tentative smiles, light teasing. A sign that maybe, just maybe, the worst had passed.
But Ansh couldn’t feel any of it. He had already walked away. The quiet click of the terrace door behind him was too soft for how violently his chest throbbed. His hands were in his pockets, but his nails dug deep into his palms. By the time he reached their floor, he didn’t bother turning on the lights in his room. He just stepped straight onto the balcony, into the sun that felt too harsh, too loud for what churned inside him.
He could still see her,The way she’d danced that morning, effortless and alive.Her ghungroos had rung like a war cry, not of battle, but of survival. The kind of sound that made you believe maybe broken things could move beautifully too. Her eyes had gleamed. Not just with grace, but with fire.
And then…Moments later…That fire was gone. Snuffed. Tears in her eyes. Disappointment in her voice. Shame she didn’t deserve to carry but did anyway. That shift, that whiplash, shattered something in him.He had thought he was prepared for it all.He was wrong.
A quiet shuffle behind him broke his thoughts.
“Still sulking on the balcony like a heartbroken poet?” Ruhaan leaned against the frame, trying to sound casual but there was a gentleness in his voice Ansh didn’t miss.
“I’m not sulking.” Ansh answered without looking at him.
“Right. You’re just standing here… thinking 100 ways to kill those boys.”
Ansh didn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw twitched.
Ruhaan stepped beside him. ” Anyways…chal ab .”
“I can’t,” Ansh said, his voice low.
“Kyuu?” He frowned.
“Because I can’t see her like that again,” he admitted. “I can’t watch her smile and not know if it’s real. I can’t sit there and pretend she’s okay when I know she’s not. And worst of all… I can’t do anything to fix it.”
Ruhaan fell silent.
Ansh’s hands clenched tighter. “She’s suffocating behind her smile, Ruhaan. I saw it this morning. That look in her eyes. And it killed me.” He paused. Swallowed hard. “And the worst part is… I don’t even know if I…”
It’s because you love her idiot” Ruhaan said smacking his head lightly.
And now he just didn’t said anything just looked blanked He hadn’t said it before. Not even to himself. But now that it was out, it rang true in every cell of his body. He didn’t want it. He hadn’t planned for it. But here he was completely wrecked by one girl’s pain and unable to imagine a life without her anymore.
Ruhaan didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. Just placed a quiet hand on Ansh’s shoulder. “Just come. Don’t talk. Don’t pretend. Just be there. That’s all she needs.”
Ansh didn’t move and said, “tu jaa.”
Being done with Ansh ruhaan didn’t said anything He just wrapped a firm hand around Ansh’s arm and tugged him along. “Chup chaap chal”
They reached the doorway of the girls’ shared room. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, the world looked different.
Aditi sat cross-legged on the bed, hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, oversized hoodie sleeves bunched at her wrists. Vivaan was stealing chips from her plate. Priya was laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. Shagun and Samaira were tossing a pillow at Prateek, who looked deeply offended about something no one cared about.
It was chaotic. Loud. Warm. If a stranger walked in, they’d never guess that this same girl had broken down a few hours ago. They’d never know the weight she carried. But Ansh knew. He felt it.
Ruhaan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “See? She’s fine.”
But Ansh didn’t answer. Because she wasn’t. Not really. She was trying and God, she was brave for that but he could still see the cracks beneath the smile. He knew that kind of smile. It was the kind you wore when you didn’t want to scare people away. The kind you wore when silence was safer than truth.
And yet… there was beauty in how she was still trying. He didn’t step inside.He just stood there, in the hallway, half in shadow, half bathed in the golden spill of light from the doorway. Silent. Still. Watching.
And then, Aditi paused. Her laughter faded. Not completely just for a moment. She turned her head slightly… her eyes drifting to the doorway. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t smile. Didn’t ask who was there. But her eyes landed exactly where he stood like she knew. Like some part of her always did.
And for the briefest second the world stopped moving. Then someone said something maybe Samaira, maybe Shagun and Aditi turned back, nodding as if nothing had happened.
But Ansh stayed frozen. That glance that fraction of a glance was enough. She didn’t have to say his name. She didn’t have to ask why he was there. Because maybe she already knew. Maybe she’d always known that he was always there quietly watching, silently staying, loving her without needing the word for it.
He turned to go, breath catching in his throat. Ruhaan didn’t stop him this time. And as he walked away, something inside him settled with finality. He didn’t choose love. Love chose him. And he’d spend every silent moment proving it not with grand confessions, but by staying.Always.
The group had now descended toward the yard area of the hotel for the much-awaited campfire night. The crisp Rishikesh night air bit at their fingers, making jackets a necessity and blankets a blessing. A gentle chill wrapped around them, but the fire in the center crackled warmly, casting golden flickers across each face.
They were all gathered in a loose circle around the flames, laughter echoing through the night like little pockets of warmth.
Across the circle, Shagun whispered something to Aditi that made her chuckle under her breath, her fingers tightening slightly around the blanket draped over her shoulders. The laugh was soft… real… but guarded. Like she was letting herself enjoy the moment in pieces.
Ruhaan and Prateek had wandered off to the snack table probably arguing over who deserved the last marshmallow.
But Ansh hadn’t said much. Not to Aditi. Not since that morning. He sat there, silent beside Vivaan, but not really listening. His eyes, almost unconsciously, kept drifting to the other side of the circle…. to her.
Wrapped in her oversized hoodie, cheeks flushed from the cold, the glow of the fire playing with the strands of her hair. Every now and then, she laughed at something Shagun said. But even through the smile, he could see it the lingering weight behind her eyes. The way she kept tugging at her sleeves. The way her gaze would occasionally flick toward him, only to dart away.
She hadn’t spoken to him all day either. And she could feel his silence like a hum beneath her skin.
Aditi had told herself he was probably just… pitying her. Like the others had, once. That he’d seen her break and now all he saw was the broken. But something inside her something stubborn and scared, couldn’t quite make peace with that.
Because the way he had looked at her that morning… The way he had not stepped forward when she cried. The way he had respected her silence but stood guard like her shadow. The way his words had trembled but not his eyes steady, unflinching, hurting with her.
It didn’t feel like pity. But she didn’t trust herself to believe it. So, instead of thinking too much, she just looked at him, one last glance, just for a second as if to confirm that maybe she was wrong.
And at that exact moment, Ansh looked up too. Their eyes met not for long. Just long enough for time to still for a breath. She froze. He did too. There was no urgency. No drama. Just… something unspoken. Something quiet and constant and warm.
So she smiled. Small. Careful. Like a peace offering. Like an unspoken “I’m okay. You don’t need to worry.”
And he smiled back just as gently. The kind of smile that didn’t stretch lips but lived in the eyes. The kind of smile that said, “I’m here. Whether you speak to me or not, I’m here.” For the first time since the confrontation, Aditi’s shoulders relaxed. And Ansh who had barely said a word all day felt something loosen in his chest. No clarity. No confessions. Just… calm.
They both looked away after that. But neither forgot that moment. And neither had to speak to know something between them had shifted. Something fragile. Something real
A soft breeze whistled through the trees, rustling the leaves like a lullaby, while the warm orange glow of the campfire cracked gently at the center of the circle. Everyone had gathered around, wrapped in blankets and mufflers, huddled close to the flames for warmth. Stars peeked through the clouds above, and the occasional laughter or teasing floated through the air like smoke.
Samaira was curled up in her blanket, sitting with her knees tucked to her chest on the wooden bench. The phone screen lit up her features every now and then as she scrolled aimlessly, her loose strands of hair brushing her cheeks in the wind. The flickering firelight reflected on her face casting golden highlights on her lashes, and a soft blush on her cheeks from the heat.
Aman was seated a few metres away, next to her, but his attention was nowhere near the jokes being cracked by the rest of the group. His eyes were fixed unmoving, quiet on her.
There was something about her in that moment. The serenity. The softness. The way her blanket framed her like a painting, how her fingers occasionally tucked her hair behind her ears. She looked… untouchable. Like a dream he wasn’t supposed to have.
He didn’t even realise he was staring. Not until Samaira caught him. She turned slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze, and found him looking at her like he’d forgotten the world existed.
Brows raised, she teased, “Aise kya dekh rahe ho? Khubsurat hu na main?” She blinked at him dramatically, expecting their usual banter. Some sarcastic comeback. A challenge. Maybe a smirk.
But what came instead…
“Bohot Khubsurat,” Aman murmured barely above a whisper, but with so much honesty it cut through the cold like fire.
The words slipped before he could stop them. Samaira froze, her smile faltering mid-tease. Her eyes widened lips parting slightly in disbelief, caught entirely off guard.
“Kya kaha?” she asked, blinking at him, her voice suddenly soft. Unsure if she’d heard right. Or if he meant it.
Realisation dawned on Aman’s face like thunder cracking through silence. He quickly looked away, ears turning red, scrambling to cover it. “Main… main keh raha tha… bohot… bohot thand hai aaj raat. Hain na?” he stuttered, rubbing his arms for effect, suddenly way too interested in the grass beside his shoe.
Samaira, still stunned, just stared at him.
Across the fire, Priya oblivious to the emotional earthquake wrapped her shawl tighter and nodded. “Haina bhaiya! Aaj to thodi extra thand hai… main coffee le kar aati hu. Aapko chahiye?” she asked, halfway standing up.
Aman latched onto the distraction like a lifeline. “Haan, mere liye bhi le aana,” he said quickly, eyes still anywhere but on Samaira. Then, casually, too casually, added, “Tum logi?” gesturing toward Samaira with a small nod.
She swallowed, her flustered expression still lingering, but said nothing of the moment. Just gave a small, silent nod, her lips trying not to curve into anything noticeable.
“Bach gaya,” Aman muttered under his breath with a sigh, mentally kicking himself even though a small smile tugged at his lips. The truth had slipped out and yet… it hadn’t felt wrong.
As Priya walked away, Shagun stood up too. “Main uski help karne jaati hu,” she said, brushing off her pants. Then turned to Aditi, who was curled up beside her with her hands wrapped around her knees. “Tere liye kya laun?”
Aditi gave a soft smile. “Kuch nahi. Agar chai ho to le aiyo… warna rehne dio.”
Shagun nodded and walked off toward the lobby, leaving the group smaller and the fire crackling louder in the quiet.
Aman finally risked a glance toward Samaira again. She was pretending to look at the flames now, lips pressed in a straight line, but he could see the faintest tint of red still colouring her cheeks. And though the silence hung thick between them, something else hung too.
He just leaned back slightly, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, allowing himself a small, secret smile. Because for once… his silence hadn’t pushed her away. It had made her pause.
Near the snacks corner, amidst the aroma of roasted peanuts and spicy pakoras, Prateek and Ruhaan were fiddling around the table Ruhaan busy pouring chai while mumbling something into his phone and Prateek tearing open a coffee sachet absentmindedly.
That’s when Priya quietly approached them, arms wrapped around herself, cheeks flushed from the cold. She didn’t say anything, just stood beside Ruhaan with hesitant eyes searching for a coffee cup.
Ruhaan, without looking up from his phone, smirked knowingly. And Prateek who had been all casual seconds ago suddenly stood a little straighter, his hands pausing mid-movement, the coffee sachet forgotten. His gaze flicked toward her nervously.
Priya, sensing something, turned her eyes to him for the briefest moment and then… smiled. Just a little.
Then, without a word, ruhaan moved to another snacks table a few feet away. That menace just quietly patted Prateek’s back and walked off sipping his chai like some matchmaking mastermind.
As Priya reached the table, she went to grab a jug of warm water but just as her fingers touched the handle, another hand reached for it at the same time. Prateek.
Their fingers brushed, and both froze, eyes locking. In that one heartbeat, the rest of the world faded, the laughter, the fire crackling, even Ruhaan’s distant voice arguing with Vivaan about vlogs. Everything blurred into background noise.
Until…
“Oye! Tujhe pata hai chai kahan hai?” Shagun’s voice cut through like a gust of wind. Both jolted slightly like they’d been caught stealing.
“Mujhe nahin pata,” Priya said, flustered, quickly looking away.
“Umm… vo shayad uss table pe thi,” Prateek added, pointing toward the corner where Ruhaan was still loitering, now texting and sipping chai like royalty.
“Oh okay… thanks bhaiya. Enjoy~” Shagun smirked and turned back, giving a teasing side-eye as she walked off.
Priya bit back a smile and turned toward the counter again, rummaging through the sachets for coffee.
“Tumhe coffee chahiye?” Prateek asked gently.
“Haan… vo… thand zyada hai na… so I thought…” Priya replied, her voice almost shy, her fingers trembling slightly from the cold as she tried opening the sachet. Prateek noticed. Without waiting, he stepped closer.
“Here… give me that. I’ll make it,” he said, offering his hand.
Priya blinked at him for a second, then silently handed the sachet over. He tore it open swiftly, mixed it into the steaming water, stirred it with practiced ease, and held the cup out to her.
“Yeh lo… dhyaan se pakadna. It’s hot,” he said, voice soft but concerned.
“It’s fine… haath thande hain na, so pata nahi lagega,” she said casually, wrapping both hands around the cup.
Prateek frowned instantly. “Are you serious? Tumhe garam nahi lag raha cup?”
“Nahi… normal lag raha hai. Vo haath thande hain na, to feel nahi ho raha utna,” Priya replied, showing her slightly red fingers.
And then before she could react Prateek gently took the cup from her hands, placed it back on the counter, and took her hands in his. His hands were warm. Hers were freezing. His brows furrowed in genuine concern.
“Are you serious, Priya? Itne thande haath… aur tum keh rahi ho ‘normal’?” he scolded, sounding more like a worried partner than a friend.
“Arey, it’s fin~” Priya began, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Shhh…” he said, already pulling out his half-gloves from his jacket pocket soft, wooly ones that covered the palms and left the fingers open.
Without a second thought, he slipped them gently over her hands. “Wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he murmured, adjusting the gloves carefully over her fingers.
Priya stood completely still. Not just because of the cold anymore. But because of him. The way he fussed over her like she mattered. Like her cold hands were the biggest problem in the world to him right now.
She looked at his face his lashes low as he focused on the gloves, his cheeks slightly pink from the fire’s warmth and maybe… just maybe… from how close they were standing.
And she smiled softly. Not a teasing smile. But a full, warm, quiet one the kind that came from the heart.
“Umm… actually… aap ek kaam aur kar denge kya?” she asked in a small voice.
Prateek looked up, amused. “Hmm? Bolo.”
“Do cup aur coffee bana dijiye please… Aman bhaiya aur Samaira didi ko bhi chahiye,” she said innocently, half hiding her face behind the collar of her shawl.
He blinked at her. Then a soft laugh escaped his lips. A real, open laugh light, beautiful, and so full of him. And she laughed too, covering her face slightly as the chill in the air was replaced by the warmth of their shared moment.
And under the stars, the flickering fire, and the teasing voices in the background, the two of them stood beside each other making coffee, sharing silence, and maybe, just maybe, feeling a little more than before.
A little distance away, under the soft canopy of fairy lights, a smaller table stood quietly at the corner of the yard near the snacks and tea setup. Ruhaan sat there alone, a rare stillness around him. One ankle rested over his knee, and his fingers scrolled absentmindedly through his phone, a half-empty teacup balanced beside him. His face was half-lit by the firelight and half-shadowed by the fairy glow, looking calm.
And that’s when Shagun spotted him. Her steps had only meant to reach the tea table. But her eyes found him first. And her heart not her feet took control. She paused mid-step. Her instincts whispered: turn around. But instead, she walked toward him.
As she approached the table, Ruhaan looked up. His brows rose for a second before a slow, unmistakable smile crept onto his lips a mix of mischief and warmth that hit too close to where it hurt.
“Hi…” he said, too cheerfully, like the morning had never happened.
Shagun blinked, her throat catching on surprise. “…H-hello.”
He tilted his head slightly, raising a brow as he asked, “Kuch chahiye tumko kya?”
“Uh… haan. Vo… chai chahiye thodi Aditi ke liye,” she muttered, half-looking around for an escape route, half-trying to find the tea.
“Ohh, hai na.” Ruhaan shot up from his chair. “Ruko, main garam kar deta hoon.” He grabbed the electric kettle like it was some sacred duty.
Shagun frowned, confused. “Nahi, it’s okay. Main kar lungi…”
“Arey baitho chup chaap,” he cut her off, voice mock-stern but gentle. “Main kar raha hoon na.”
Her lips parted, about to argue again, but the calm in his tone stopped her. She sat down slowly, mechanically, like her body was moving without full permission.
Her eyes, though, still suspicious. Still searching. The kettle began to hum. Ruhaan returned to the seat beside her, settling in with his usual grin, like everything between them was exactly the same.
Shagun stared at him like he was speaking in an alien language.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked bluntly, brows drawing together.
Ruhaan blinked back at her, playing it cool. “hasna bhi mana hai kya?”
The words had barely left his lips when Shagun’s hand reached out to his forehead. Without warning.
He flinched slightly in surprise. “Arey—arey! Kya kar rahi ho?”
But she was already leaning forward, her palm hovering just above his skin, brows furrowed in genuine concern. “Are you okay?” she murmured. “Kahi chot waghera toh nahi lagi? Sar pe kuch pada kya?”
Ruhaan’s hand shot up gently, catching her wrist mid-air. Her breath caught. His fingers were warm, firm, but not forceful.
“What if… I say lagi hai… will you treat it?” he whispered, and his voice was different now quieter, slower, laced with something vulnerable hiding beneath the tease.
Their eyes locked. The fire behind them flickered louder now, but the world itself had gone pin-drop silent. Her breath hitched audibly as he leaned closer, their faces inches apart.
She could feel his warmth his closeness his unspoken questions. His eyes bore into hers, no longer teasing. They were searching. Maybe for doubt. Maybe for truth. Or maybe just for a reason to still stay.
A second passed. Then another.Her chest rose and fell too fast. And then, she pulled her hand away. As if burnt by the moment. Cheeks flushed. Gaze dropped. Her breath all wrong. She looked away sharply, freeing her wrist from his hold.
But Ruhaan stayed exactly where he was, elbows now rested lazily on the table, watching her face like he had all the time in the world to study her reaction.
“Kamaal hai… pyaar kisi aur se karti ho aur fikar meri…” he said, voice playful but layered with something heavier.
She turned toward him slightly, her voice tight, firm. “You said you’d stop.”
“I said that,” Ruhaan agreed, walking back to the kettle as it clicked off, “But it looks like tum condition bhool gayi…”
Steam curled into the air as he poured the tea into a paper cup, steady hands, soft silence. Shagun frowned, confused, as he walked back slowly.
“I said…” Ruhaan began, voice lower now, “I’ll stop only if I approve the guy.”
He stopped in front of her. Bending down, just enough to close the distance again. His breath brushed past her skin as he whispered near her ear, “…and till now I still haven’t.”
Shagun’s eyes widened, frozen. The cup touched her palm as he gently placed it in her hands still steaming, but not as hot as the blood rising to her cheeks.
She didn’t say a word. Because what could she say? Technically. Practically. Emotionally. He was right. And that terrified her. Because in a world full of people who walked away the second things got real he was still here. Still fighting. Still knocking.
Everyone was huddled close, scattered around the fire some sharing pakoras, some sipping on chai or coffee, while a few were just sitting with heavy eyes, basking in the serenity of the moment.
Priya quietly sat beside Aditi, her blanket loosely wrapped around her shoulders. She was warm, not just from the fire but from something far deeper.
And Aditi? She noticed immediately. Her eyes dropped to the gloves on Priya’s hands, slightly big, clearly not hers, and absolutely not from Priya’s own luggage. A slow, knowing smirk crept across her lips.
She leaned in, whispering just enough for Priya to hear. “Ahmmm… thodi thodi progress to dikh hi rahii hai…hmmm.”
Priya stiffened for a second cheeks turning a shade of pink that no firelight could ever create. The moment flashed through her mind again how gently Prateek had slipped those gloves onto her hands, the softness in his eyes, the concern in his voice, the way his fingers brushed hers longer than necessary.
“Shhhh… chup rehhh,” was all she could mumble, burying her face further into her blanket as if it could hide the giddiness blooming in her chest.
Aditi’s smirk only deepened, her eyes twinkling with the joy of seeing her friend all flustered for once. Just then, Shagun arrived, holding two cups of chai, her eyes still distant clearly lost in her own world.
Aditi nudged her lightly and nodded towards Priya. “Dekh rhii haii… inka to chal gya…” she whispered.
Shagun blinked back into focus, and even in her daze, the teasing instinct kicked in. She followed Aditi’s gaze, noticed the gloves on Priya’s hands, and the very obvious blush coloring her friend’s face.
“Uh… haan dekha main… they were like kuchi puchi kuu,” Shagun said dramatically, handing Aditi her cup of chai while throwing a teasing smirk at Priya.
Priya let out an exaggerated sigh, her face buried now entirely into her scarf, wishing for a second the earth could swallow her whole or at least make these two go to sleep. But despite her embarrassment, a tiny smile tugged at her lips
They were deep in their chaos when Vivaan’s loud, theatrical sigh broke through the laughter.
“Yrr aap log bore nahii ho rhe kya?” he sulked, stretching his arms like an overgrown panda. “Kuch to karna chahiye na hame… vrna mujhe neend aa jayegi aise to,” he said with an exaggerated yawn.
“Haan keh to sahi raha hai chuha… kuch khele kya?” Samaira chimed in, raising her brows at the group.
“But what will we play?” Prateek asked, tugging the blanket tighter over his legs.
“Antakshari khelte hain!” Ruhaan said instantly, almost too excited like he’d been waiting all evening to suggest it. The rest of the group exchanged a collective sigh.
“Nahi, yeh nahi…” Priya groaned dramatically. “Agar inhone galti se bhi gaa diya na to mere kaano se khoon ki nadiya beh jayengi.” Her gaze landed squarely on Ruhaan, who wasn’t impressed.
“Bol to aise rahi hai jaise khud Lata Mangeshkar ho,” Ruhaan scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Koi nahi, main gaya hu, ruko…” Vivaan jumped in, clearing his throat with a flair like he was stepping onto a stage. “Chaand se parda kijiye…” he began, dramatically clutching his chest.
“Chura~” he was just about to hit the main lyrics when Prateek interrupted with a snort, “Tujhe to koi chura hi le… besura!”
The group burst into laughter as Vivaan gave him a betrayed look.
“Aap hi gaa do na phir!” he snapped back at Prateek. Prateek just scoffed.
“M gaati hoon ruko!” Samaira volunteered with zero warning and immediately launched into, “Hamko hami se chura lo… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~~~~” hitting a high note with such intensity that everyone instinctively covered their ears.
She was still going strong when Aman clapped a hand over her mouth. “Bas karo Lakshmi Baiii… itna aaa mat karo warna hum marr jayenge,” he said dramatically, gesturing toward the group as if they’d all just suffered.
“Achha to gaa rahi thi main,” Samaira sulked, lowering her voice and looking down like a scolded child.
“Ik sec… maine school mein suna tha ki Ansh bhaiya gaate bhi hain!” Shagun suddenly said, looking toward Ansh, who was quietly sipping chai in a corner.
Ansh choked instantly on his sip, eyes wide with panic as everyone turned to him with hopeful grins.
“Are nahi nahi… main kaha…” Ansh began to refuse, already waving them off.
“Haan sahi keh rahi hai Shagun… bhaiya kya gaate hain… kya gaate hain…” Vivaan added with exaggerated admiration, then added with a snort, “Tony Kakkar bhi sharma jaaye.”
That earned him a smack from Ansh right on the back of his head. “Chup reh… bakwaas mat kar.”
“Abe gaa de na… hum konsa nazar laga denge tujhe?” Prateek taunted with his usual dry tone.
“Rehne de bhai, hamare bolne se thodi gayega yeh…” Ruhaan teased, leaning forward with a smug expression. “Kisi special ke muh se bulwana padega tab gayega yeh.”
That earned him a warning glare from Ansh, silently promising retaliation later. Then came the voice that no one, especially Ansh had expected. A soft, tentative, almost cautious voice from just behind Vivaan.
“Gaa dijiye na… please.” It was Aditi.
And everything in Ansh stilled. His hands, his thoughts, even his breath paused in that moment. Because when she said it, he felt it like she wasn’t just asking him to sing.
She was asking him to stay. And for a second, the calm, composed, brilliant Ansh the boy who never did anything without a reason found himself nodding. He didn’t even process the decision. It just happened. Like her words reached a part of him logic couldn’t touch.
“Bhaiya ye lo… iske sath gana!” Priya chimed in as Vivaan suddenly emerged from nowhere, holding a guitar like a prize.
“Ye kaha se laya?” Ansh blinked.
“Unse mang ke,” Vivaan replied proudly, pointing toward a group seated across the yard who were happily clapping along.
“Are wah… ab banega na mahaul!” Samaira clapped her hands.
“Chal shuru kar mere… Kumar Sanu,” she added with a wink.
Ansh let out a breath, half in amusement, half in disbelief. He took the guitar from Vivaan, adjusting the strap across his shoulder and checking the string placement. His fingers moved with quiet familiarity like they hadn’t forgotten the music, just waited for a reason to come back.
The group leaned in. The fire crackled gently. Ansh strummed the guitar with gentle precision, his fingers moving over the strings like they knew exactly what they wanted to say even if his lips never would. The campfire flickered in front of them, casting golden light across their faces, but it was his voice that warmed the air.
And then, softly, he began… (i prefer to all to play the song attached to this chapter for better experience or simply play ~ “Main Hoon Saath Tere” song by Arijit Singh.)
“Aasmaan sitaaron se chhalakne laga
Chaand saa tu jo mujh mein chamakne laga
Rahoon tere yoon paas main
Banoon tera ehsaas main
Yaar jee loon aa teri har saans main…”
His tone was low, steady, heartbreakingly warm like the song wasn’t just lyrics, but something sacred he’d been holding inside. Everyone around him went still. Conversations died. Priya had a faint smile on her face, eyes wide in admiration. Ruhaan looked surprised, genuinely surprised as if he’d forgotten Ansh could be anything more than calm, quiet brilliance.
But Aditi…she just stared. Not at the fire. Not at the guitar. But at him. Because his voice wasn’t just music. It was a story. A confession. A slow, unspoken truth. And she felt it crawl under her skin, deeper than she’d ever let anything reach before.
“Shaam saa tu dhalta
Tu subah saa hai nikalta
Tere saaye mein chalta
Main hoon saath tere…”
He didn’t look up at first. But Aditi’s eyes never left him. Her heart traitorous and trembling beat to the rhythm of each word.
And then, he raised his head. And looked straight at her. The campfire reflected in his eyes, but something else was burning behind them something she couldn’t name yet… but it saw her. All of her. The cracks, the shadows, the scars.
“Hai yehi iraada
Tujhe chaahoon khud se zyada
Dil se hai ye vaada
Main hoon saath tere…”
His fingers danced over the strings, soft and deliberate. But it wasn’t the music that held her still. It was the way his voice broke ever so slightly not in tune, but in feeling. Like he meant every syllable, like it was stitched into his skin.
Like he was promising. Promising her something he didn’t know how to say in plain words. But his heart had already started singing.
“Seene mein tere pyaar ki
Udti hai patangein
Udke yoon hawa mein tera
Main aanchal hua…”
A soft breath left Aditi’s lips. She didn’t blink. Couldn’t. Because in those lines she felt it. The way he watched her in silence. The way he had stood there in the morning, too afraid to comfort her… but even more afraid not to. The way he always knew when she was about to crumble… and never asked her to be stronger just stood beside her anyway.
“O bheega hoon tere saath main
Baarishon mein teri
Bikhri jo teri zulf to
Main baadal huaa…”
And with those lines, he smiled. That rare, fleeting kind of smile that Ansh almost never wore the kind only a few had seen. The kind that made even Ruhaan stop teasing and just watch. Like the world had just shifted a little.
The kind of smile Aditi had never seen from him before. But would remember for the rest of her life. Because it wasn’t meant for the group. It was meant for her. And her alone.
“Teri kaali aankhein
Mere khwaab ka hai dariya
Main utar ke in mein kho gaya…”
His voice softened again almost reverent, almost breathless and in that exact moment, his gaze met hers again. No laughter. No teasing smirk. Just silence. And the soft ache of something real. Something terrifying. Something beautiful. And for once, Aditi didn’t look away.
Because she knew. She knew he wasn’t just singing. He was telling her everything.
“Hai yehi iraada
Tujhe chaahun khud se zyada
Dil se hai vaada
Main hoon saath tere…”
Every repetition felt like a vow. Every note, a whisper of what he could never bring himself to say aloud.
“I’ll stay.”
“I’ll fight for you.”
“You will never face this world alone… not while I’m breathing.”
It wasn’t loud.It wasn’t dramatic. It was Ansh. Quiet. Unshakable. And utterly sincere. As the last chord faded into the crisp Rishikesh air, a heavy silence followed no one dared speak. No one dared break it.
And Aditi… She blinked, slowly, heart thundering in her chest. Her throat dry, her breath shallow. She didn’t smile. But her eyes said everything.
And Ansh? He looked down again, placing the guitar gently beside him. But his chest… it burned. Because somewhere between those chords and her gaze…
He’d realized something he’d spent his whole life denying.
He was in love with her. Terribly, quietly, completely. And he’d never wanted to be.
But now…He’d give the world for it.
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that’s all for this chapter.
hope you liked it.
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love you all…byee.
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