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मेरा जिस्म ते जान ईमान वी तू
मेरा जिस्म ते जान ईमान वी तू
मेरा रब्ब रसूल कुरान वी तू
मेरा रब्ब रसूल कुरान वी तू
सर कदमां ते धरांगी रांझेया
सर कदमां ते धरांगी रांझेया
जिवें कहवेगा करांगी रांझेया वे
जिवें कहवेगा करांगी रांझेया वे
________________________
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The house had finally gone quiet. The laughter from downstairs, the teasing voices, the clinking of cutlery everything had slowly faded into the calm of late night. Even the walls seemed to be resting now.
Aditi had changed into her oversized t-shirt and shorts, the fabric loose and comforting against her skin. Her hair was still open but secured back by a clutcher, a few strands escaping near her cheeks. She wiped away the last bit of kajal from under her eyes and stared at her reflection for a second.
Her birthday was almost over. And he hadn’t been there. The thought left behind a hollow ache she didn’t want to acknowledge.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in her hands, thumb hovering over his contact name. The screen light reflected in her eyes.
Taking a small breath, she pressed call. The ringtone echoed in her ear. And then She stiffened because along with the ringing in her phone, she heard the exact same ringtone from her balcony.
Her brows knitted together in confusion. Slowly, she pulled the phone away from her ear. The sudden silence felt louder than the ringing had.
Barefoot, she walked toward the balcony doors. Each step felt cautious, her heartbeat picking up for reasons she couldn’t explain. The cool marble floor pressed against her feet as she reached the sliding door.
She pushed it open and gasped. Under the faint yellow light spilling from her room into the balcony, she saw Ansh climbing up a ladder that was leaning against the outer garden wall.
For a split second, she thought she was hallucinating from lack of sleep but no it was him.
His hair slightly messy from the night breeze. Sleeves folded up to his elbows. A backpack hanging carelessly from his shoulder. One hand gripping the ladder, the other still holding his phone.
“Aap yaha kya kar rhe hai?” she whispered in shock, quickly cutting the call completely. Her voice was soft but filled with panic, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Ansh looked up immediately at the sound of her voice.
“Ohh hiii,” he said casually, like he had just bumped into her at a cafe instead of climbing into her balcony at midnight.
He climbed the remaining steps confidently and reached the railing. Without even thinking, Aditi extended her hand toward him instinctively fear of him slipping overriding everything else. He caught her hand firmly, his grip warm and steady, and pulled himself over the railing smoothly.
The moment his shoes touched the balcony floor, she stepped back half an inch, staring at him as if trying to process what was happening.
“Aap itni raat ko yaha kya kar rhe ho?” she asked again, this time her voice holding more concern than anger. Her eyes quickly scanned his face the faint exhaustion under his eyes, the light dust near the hem of his jeans, the slight heaviness in his shoulders.
He smiled. That soft, stubborn smile she knew too well.
“birthday surprise baaki tha tumhara….and i still have time to celebrate your birthday…see we have 15 minutes left to end this day” He said lifting his wrist toward her, showing his watch proudly.
11:45 PM.
Her heart skipped. Fifteen minutes. He had calculated the time. She looked at him and suddenly her eyes stung.
“Subha bhi to kar skte the ham…itni raat ko kyu aye aap…upar se aap direct station se hi aagye hai lag rha hai,” she said, her voice softer now, layered with worry.
Her gaze moved from his face to his bag, to his shoes again, noticing the small signs of travel. The way he stood slightly slouched. The way his breathing was a little heavier than usual.
He immediately shook his head, almost defensively. “nhi nhi…station se to ghar gaya tha pehle….khana kha ke chupke se bike leker yaha aa gaya”
He said it so casually. Like sneaking out late at night after an entire day of travel was nothing. But she heard what he wasn’t saying. Her throat tightened painfully
“Chalo abhi lets celebrate,” he said lightly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Before she could argue or question him again, he gently held her wrist and guided her inside the room. His touch was warm despite the cold night air clinging to his sleeves. She followed him automatically, still processing everything.
He placed his backpack carefully on her bed, almost protectively, and crouched down beside it. The seriousness on his face now was different focused, cautious like he was handling something precious.
He unzipped the bag slowly, making sure not to tilt it too much. Her curiosity overpowered her confusion, and she stepped closer. From inside, he pulled out a small steel box. Her eyes widened instantly.
The kind of steel box usually used to carry homemade food. Simple. Ordinary. Completely unromantic by conventional standards. But the way he held it made it feel priceless.
He opened the lid carefully. Inside was a tiny bento cake, white frosting, minimal decoration, slightly smudged on one corner. The edges weren’t perfect anymore. The icing had shifted just a little.
But it was intact. He had protected it.
“Aap seriously cake bhi laye hai?” she said in stunned disbelief, her voice softer now, almost breathless. She wasn’t just surprised at the cake. She was surprised at him. At the effort. At the thought.
There was no dramatic box. No ribbon. No bakery logo. Just a small cake in a steel dabba. And somehow, it felt more meaningful than the big, perfectly decorated cake downstairs that everyone had clapped for.
“Candle bhi laya hoon,” he said proudly, like a kid showing off a hidden treasure. From his pocket, he pulled out a tiny candle and a lighter.
He placed the cake gently on her bed, smoothing the bedsheet under it to keep it steady. With careful fingers, he inserted the candle into the center of the frosting and lit it.
The flame flickered softly. The room lights were still on, but somehow that tiny flame drew all the attention. It cast a warm golden glow on his face highlighting the tiredness under his eyes, the softness in his expression, the quiet satisfaction of having pulled this off.
Aditi didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at him. Her eyes started glistening, the emotion rising too fast for her to contain. She blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again.
He noticed. Of course he did. But he pretended not to.
“Now make a wish and blow the candle,” he said softly, his voice gentle, no teasing this time.
She looked at the tiny flame and closed her eyes. Her wish wasn’t about gifts or surprises or even about herself.
“Let him always be safe. Let him always smile like this.”
Her lips curved faintly as she opened her eyes again and leaned forward, blowing the candle gently. The flame danced for a second before disappearing, leaving behind a thin trail of smoke that curled upward between them.
In a low whisper, almost shyly, he sang, “Happy birthday to you…”
She felt her chest tighten again.
She picked up the small spoon he had placed beside the cake and carefully cut a tiny bite. Her hand trembled slightly as she held it up toward him. Their eyes met for a brief second something unspoken passing between them before she fed him.
He leaned forward obediently and took the bite, smiling immediately as if it was the best cake he had ever tasted.
Then he took the spoon from her hand, cut another small piece, and held it toward her. She leaned forward the same way he had, their faces closer now, their breaths faintly mixing.
When the cake touched her tongue, it tasted sweet but different , warmer not because of the flavor but because of the moment.
“Happy birthday Isha once again… keep smiling like you always do,” he said happily, but his voice had softened at the end quieter, warmer, almost protective.
The nickname slipped out of him naturally. Not forced. Not rehearsed. It fit her. It belonged to her. And it belonged to him. Something inside Aditi cracked at the gentleness in his tone.
Before he could even register the shift in her expression, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him. There was no hesitation this time. No shyness. Just need.
Her face pressed firmly against his chest, right over his heartbeat. She inhaled sharply, and a soft sniff escaped her before she could stop it.
Words refused to form. Because “thank you” felt too small. Because how do you thank someone for choosing you at midnight?
Ansh froze for half a second, surprised by the sudden force of her hug but then instinct took over. His arms came around her waist firmly, holding her close, steadying her like he always did. One hand spread across her back, the other resting protectively at her lower waist. His chin rested lightly on top of her head.
He had never been someone who expressed too much in words. He wasn’t good at dramatic confessions or poetic declarations. For him, feelings were actions. Presence. Showing up. And right now, he was showing up.
Aditi’s fingers clutched the back of his shirt tightly, wrinkling the fabric in her grip as if she was scared that loosening it would make him disappear. He felt the dampness against his collar where her tears were soaking through.
“Heyy… why are you crying,” he asked with a low chuckle, his voice amused but undeniably soft. She shook her head stubbornly but didn’t lift her face.
“Aap boht boore hein,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against his neck as she burrowed closer. A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Kyuu… what did I do?” he asked in mock offence, pretending to be confused.
She finally pulled back slightly, though her hands still held onto his shirt. Her eyes were red and glossy now, lashes clumped together from tears. Her cheeks were warm and flushed.
“Itni raat ko aap yaha kyu aaye?… vo bhi after travelling whole day… apko zara sa bhi khayaal nhi hai kya apni health ka upar se it’s not safe at night,” she lightly scolded him, hitting his chest softly with her palm.
The hits were gentle. They carried worry, not anger. She hit him again, slightly harder this time, but even that felt fragile.
Ansh caught her wrist gently before she could swing again. His fingers wrapped around her wrist carefully, not restricting just stopping. His expression softened completely.
“Agar main nhi ata abhi to tumhara birthday kaise celebrate kar pata?” he said quietly.
There was no heroism in his tone. No exaggeration. Just simple logic.
He lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed away the tears trailing down her skin, wiping them carefully as if they annoyed him.
He hated seeing her cry. Not because it made him uncomfortable. But because it hurt him.
“Kal celebrate kar lete na itna bhi kya tha apko… birthdays to har saal aate hain,” she sulked, her brows knitting together like a child trying to win an argument.
He smiled faintly at her logic, so innocent, so emotional.
“To phir iss saal kyu miss karna birthday?…. we’ll celebrate it every year na,” he replied calmly.
He said it so casually. But there was weight in it. Not a promise made dramatically. Just something he assumed would happen. Something he had already decided in his heart. Her breath hitched almost invisibly at that.
She looked at him differently for a second softer, deeper.
“Aap hamesha apne mann ki hi karte hain,” she said, hitting his chest again this time lighter, almost playful.
“Nhi… tumhaari bhi to sunta hu… don’t lie Isha,” he teased, tilting his head slightly.
She immediately hid her face against his chest again, embarrassed by how easily he disarmed her. How quickly her anger melted into affection.
He chuckled under his breath and wrapped his arms around her once more, pulling her flush against him. His hand moved to the back of her head, fingers sliding gently into her messy bun. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head.
The gesture was instinctive. Protective. Softly possessive not in control, but in care. He inhaled slowly, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her skin, the familiarity of her presence.
After holding her for a long moment, he slowly pulled back, though his hands lingered at her waist as if he wasn’t fully ready to let go.
“Achha wait apna birthday gift to lo,” he said, and this time there was a visible spark of excitement in his eyes the kind he tried to hide but never fully could.
She blinked, still overwhelmed, quickly wiping her tears with the back of her hand, embarrassed at how emotional she had become.
“Aur kya baaki hai?” she muttered softly, her voice still slightly shaky.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he bent down toward his backpack again, unzipping the smaller compartment with careful fingers. The way he handled it made it clear whatever was inside mattered.
When he straightened up and turned toward her, he was holding a glass jar.
It wasn’t too big small enough to fit in both hands comfortably. Around its neck was a pink satin ribbon tied into a neat bow, slightly crinkled from being inside the bag. The jar itself was crystal clear. Inside were hundreads of tiny 3D paper stars.
They were in soft pastel shades, baby pink, lavender, pale blue, mint green, butter yellow. The fairy lights in her room reflected against the glass, making the tiny folded edges sparkle faintly.
For a second, Aditi forgot how to breathe.
“Here.” He extended the jar toward her gently, almost ceremoniously.
She took it carefully, as if it were fragile. As if it were something sacred.
“Ye kya hai?” she asked, completely mesmerized, her fingers brushing against the cool glass. She tilted it slightly and watched the tiny stars shift inside, creating a soft rustling sound.
They looked delicate. Each one perfectly folded into a plump little star symmetrical, precise. No torn edges. No messy folds.
“Open it,” he said softly.
She untied the pink ribbon slowly, smoothing it out unconsciously before placing it on the bed. Then she unscrewed the lid carefully, as if opening a treasure chest. A faint papery scent rose from inside.
She tipped the jar gently and let a few stars roll into her palm. They were unbelievably light almost weightless resting there like tiny colorful secrets.
“These look so cute… apne khud banaye hain?” she asked, her eyes lifting to his, wide and shining.
He nodded, a little shy but proud. “Haan… I made them for you and each star contains something about you.”
She frowned in confusion, looking down at the stars again. “About me… kidhar?”
“Open the stars you’ll see.” He reached forward, picked one from her palm a soft lavender one and carefully began unfolding it. The tiny folds loosened under his fingers, transforming from a puffed 3D shape into a thin strip of paper.
“See,” he said, handing it to her.
Aditi looked down at the tiny, neatly written handwriting. The letters were small but clear slightly slanted, unmistakably his.
“Your dimples are so notorious… they always distract me.”
“Kuch bhi.”A soft, involuntary chuckle escaped her lips. But her cheeks flushed instantly. She instinctively pressed her lips together, trying to suppress the smile forming.
He looked at her seriously now, stepping a little closer. “It’s true Isha… everything written in the stars are true… seriously.”
There was no teasing in his tone. Only honesty. She looked back down at the jar in her hands, then at him again.
“Apne in saare stars khud bana ke usme likha?”
He nodded.
“On every star?”
He nodded again.
Her eyes widened as she truly registered the number of stars inside the jar. There were so many. Her mind tried to calculate the effort behind it. He must have sat for hours. Cutting paper into strips. Writing carefully on each one. Folding them tightly. Shaping them into perfect little stars by pressing the edges gently with his nails.
Her chest tightened painfully. “When did he get the time? Was he making them during study breaks? Late at night when everyone slept?”She imagined him sitting somewhere alone, head bent down, concentrating deeply on these tiny pieces of paper. Writing about her. Her laugh. Her stubborn arguments. The way she pouted. The way she scrunched her nose when annoyed. The way her dimples appeared when she tried not to smile.
Tiny confessions he would never say directly. All folded up. Hidden inside pastel stars. She looked at him again, her eyes shining dangerously with unshed tears.
“Ab main jab training pe jaunga na then whenever you’ll miss me just open these stars and think of me,” he whispered.
The word training echoed inside her. He would leave again. Soon. And he knew she would miss him. He didn’t brush that aside. He didn’t pretend it wouldn’t hurt. He prepared for it. He gave her something to hold when he wouldn’t be there.
She nodded instantly, even as tears blurred her vision again. She clutched the jar closer to her chest, as if afraid it might disappear.
This wasn’t just a gift. It was hours of his time. His patience. His attention. His quiet love, written in tiny strips of paper.
Each star was a piece of him folded carefully so she could unfold it whenever loneliness felt heavy.
Aditi was still holding the glass jar of pastel paper stars carefully against her chest, her fingers tracing the pink satin ribbon absentmindedly, when Ansh suddenly seemed to remember something. His brows lifted slightly, and he straightened as if a forgotten thought had just tapped him on the shoulder.
“ik aur gift hai wait,” he said, bending toward his bag again, his tone carrying a quiet excitement that he tried and failed to hide.
She stared at him in disbelief.
He pulled out a small velvet box this time. It was simple deep maroon, soft to the touch, edges slightly pressed from being kept carefully inside his bag. There was no brand name, no flashy gold embossing. Just something chosen with intention.
He held it out to her without dramatics, without buildup. Her heartbeat began to thud louder in her ears as she slowly lifted the lid.
Inside lay a delicate lavender-colored butterfly pendant. The wings were finely crafted, light and graceful, with tiny shimmering stones embedded along the edges that caught the warm fairy lights and reflected them softly. It wasn’t loud jewelry. It didn’t demand attention.
It glowed quietly.
Matching earrings rested beside it small, elegant, mirroring the same lavender hue, the same gentle sparkle. The chain was thin, almost fragile-looking, the kind that rested softly against skin without weight.
For a moment, she simply stared. It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was thoughtful. Soft. Feminine. Dreamy.
Exactly the kind of thing she would stop to admire through a glass shop window, tilt her head at, and then walk away from because she’d convince herself she didn’t need it.
He noticed the silence stretching and felt his chest tighten slightly.
“mujhe wapas aate time ye dikha tha ik shop pe to i thought it will look good on you, so i took it for you….did you liked it?” Ansh said, his voice lowering toward the end, almost unconsciously.
There was hesitation in that last line. The kind he never showed in interviews, in front of seniors, in front of anyone. He could face panels without blinking. He could climb balconies in the dark. He could board trains alone without fear.
But asking whether she liked something he chose for her? That made him nervous.
Aditi looked up instantly, nodding quickly before he could even doubt himself. “it’s so prettly….kitna sundar hai ye.” Her voice carried pure happiness. Her eyes weren’t glossy with tears this time they were shining with something lighter. Brighter.
She carefully lifted the pendant from the box, the chain slipping gently between her fingers. Then, without overthinking, she held it back toward him.
“pehna dijiye,” she said softly, turning around and gathering her hair to one side.
That single word made him freeze for half a second.
She stood inches away now. Her back facing him. Her neck exposed. The soft curve of her collarbone barely visible from the side. Her hair brushed against his knuckles as she moved it aside.
He swallowed. The air between them felt different suddenly.
He stepped forward carefully, closing the distance. He could feel the warmth of her body even without touching her properly. His fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as he lifted the chain.
“Don’t mess this up” he told himself firmly.
As he moved the chain around her neck, his fingertips brushed lightly against her skin. The contact was brief but electric. Her breath hitched softly at the sudden coolness of the metal and the warmth of his fingers following it.
He felt it. That tiny shift in her breathing. His own heartbeat quickened.
He leaned slightly closer, trying to steady his hands while fastening the clasp behind her neck. His knuckles grazed her nape again, and this time her shoulders stiffened faintly before relaxing.
The proximity was intoxicating. He could smell her scent. Could see the fine baby hairs near her neck. Could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
Finally, the clasp clicked into place.
“done,” he said, a small satisfied smile forming, though his voice was slightly rougher than usual.
She turned around immediately, almost brushing against him in the process. Now they were face to face closer than before. The butterfly pendant rested perfectly against her collarbone, the lavender stones shimmering gently under the fairy lights.
“kaisa lag raha hai?” she asked, lifting the pendant slightly with her fingers so he could see it properly.
But he wasn’t just looking at the jewelry. He was looking at how it looked on her. How it seemed made for her. How she instinctively held it like something precious.
“boht pyara…bilkul tumhari tarah,” he said honestly.
There was no teasing edge. No smirk. Just admiration. Her smile widened instantly, and before he could prepare himself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him again. “thankyouu so much.”
He wrapped his arms around her automatically, one hand settling firmly at her back, the other sliding up slightly as if to secure her there. He held her like she fit perfectly in that space.
He rested his chin lightly against the top of her head. “I love you isha…please stay close to me,” he whispered.
The words weren’t dramatic. They weren’t loud. They were vulnerable. Ansh wasn’t someone who asked. He protected. He provided. He endured.
But asking her to stay? That meant everything. Aditi felt her chest tighten at the softness in his voice. She tilted her head slightly upward, still within his arms.
“aapse door main bhala jaungi kaha?” she whispered back.
He closed his eyes for a brief second. That answer settled something restless inside him. He pressed a soft kiss against her head.
Suddenly, she pulled back with a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes.
“main bhi main bhi,” she said excitedly.
Before he could react, she climbed slightly onto him, rising on her toes and cupping his face between her palms. Her fingers pressed warmly against his cheeks, her thumbs brushing near his jaw.
Then she kissed his cheek affectionately. Ansh went completely still. His brain lagged a second behind his body. She pulled back, looking immensely proud of herself.
He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.
“main bhi kar lu?” he asked teasingly, though there was still faint surprise in his tone.
She nodded immediately and turned her face dramatically, presenting her right cheek like a challenge.
He leaned forward slowly this time, intentionally, and pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. He could feel the warmth of her skin under his lips.
She immediately turned the other side. “yaha bhi.”
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at her childish insistence, but leaned in again and kissed her other cheek just as gently.
The room felt warmer now. Filled with soft laughter and quiet breaths.
“I love youuuu,” Aditi said happily, throwing her arms around him tightly again.
“Love you more” He held her close, his hands firm yet protective at her back, as if committing this exact weight, this exact closeness, to memory.
____________________________
The city of Ludhiana glowed in its own warm, bustling charm as evening began to settle. The streets were still alive honking scooters, chaat stalls steaming at the corners, college students dragging their luggage toward autos, the sky painted in a dusty orange fading into purple.
Inside her PG room near the college campus, Samaira sat cross-legged on the floor, half-zipped suitcase lying open in front of her. Books were stacked in uneven piles. Practical files lay scattered near her bed. Her lab coat was folded carelessly on the chair.
The last practical of the semester had drained every bit of energy from her and now she’s going home for a small vacation that is followed by end of semester.
She looked tired. Physically exhausted. Mentally done. Yet somewhere beneath the fatigue, there was relief. One more semester done.
She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a slow breath just as the door burst open without warning.
“Oyee sam….kaisa gaya practical?” Shrija’s energetic voice filled the room as she stepped in, tossing her sling bag on the bed.
Samaira looked up and offered a small, tired smile. “theek hi tha…not too good not too bad.”
Shrija plopped down beside her dramatically. “achha sunn na…iss baar ham kahi international trip plan kare kya?”
Samaira blinked.
“international trip?!…kaha jayenge?” she asked, amused despite her exhaustion.
Shrija waved her hand casually. “kahi bhi…. tu bta chalegi?”
Samaira laughed softly at her randomness. “nhi yrr…papa nhi jaane denge,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.
The image of her father immediately flashed in her mind strict eyes, folded arms, silent authority. Amit didn’t shout much. He didn’t need to. His silence alone was enough to make her rethink half her decisions.
“are to bol dio na college wale le ja rhe hain,” Shrija said as if it was the simplest solution in the world.
Samaira stared at her for a second, then spoke in an exaggerated tone, mimicking logic. “achha aur papa to bewakoof hai,…haina….unhe to jaise pta nhi ki kitna mahaan college hai hamara jo international trip pe le jayega.”
Shrija groaned dramatically. “tch….kya yrrr….ik baari to sabke mammy papa allow karte hain jaane ke liye.”
“karte hai but mere wale thode unique hai maam,” Samaira replied dryly. Unique was her polite word for overprotective.
She loved her father deeply. She knew every restriction came from concern. But sometimes… it felt suffocating.
Shrija sighed in defeat. “chal theek hai….koi bat nahi phir yhi local hi chale jayenge kahi…..isme to ayegi na?”
Samaira nodded immediately. “hn…isme aa jaungi chal.”
They both began walking out of their PG building, the evening breeze brushing against their tired faces. Students laughed around them. Autos zoomed past.
Halfway down the street, Shrija suddenly stopped walking. So abruptly that Samaira almost bumped into her.
Shrija turned around with dramatically widened eyes. “sam…ik mast idea aya hai.”
Samaira narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “ab kya idea hai?”
Shrija leaned closer as if revealing a classified secret. “tu apne ghar pe ye boliye ki hame koi international event attend karna hai kyuinki hamne participate kiya tha tab to vo jane ki permission de denge na?”
She looked absurdly proud of herself.
Samaira folded her arms. “achha aur vo even out of india karvayega kon?”
Shrija rolled her eyes. “are unko kya pta lag rha hai ki ham koi event main ja rhe hai ya kahi kisi trip pe….aur baaki ka ham do chaar photos photoshop karva lenge na design wale students se dikhane ke liye ki ham event main gye the.”
She explained it so smoothly it almost sounded reasonable. Samaira went quiet for a moment. The idea hung in the air.
It is Wrong. A bit Risky. But tempting.
For a brief second, she imagined herself at an airport. Passport in hand. Freedom. No curfew calls. No constant checking.
A small spark of rebellion flickered inside her.
“haa waise idea bura nahi hai,” she said slowly.
Shrija’s face lit up instantly. “ha to dekh….tu ghar pe boliyo ki kuch selected top students ko college wale le ja rhe hai 4-5 din ka event hai and tujhe bhi select kiya hua hai baaki brochure hamlog design karva lenge kisi bhi cheez ka vo dikha dio baaki hamme se koi professor ban ke baat kar lega uncle aunty se bss…problem sorted.”
She clapped her hands together in satisfaction. Samaira’s mind started calculating possibilities.
If Papa speaks to a “professor”… If there’s a brochure… If everything looks official…
“haa yrr….papa ko shak bhi nhi hoga agar vo ik baar professor se baat kar lenge to baaki i’ve my savings to ham usse ghoom lenge,” she said, the plan slowly forming in her head.
The thought of independence excited her. But somewhere deep down, a small voice whispered “What if he finds out?”
She pushed it aside. For once, she wanted to choose something for herself.
Shrija puffed her chest proudly. “haina dekh…kitna mast idea diya maine.”
Samaira laughed softly. “lekin ham jayenge kaha?”
Shrija grinned mischievously.
“vo decide ho jayega…chal pehle sabko batate hai ye plan phir sab kuch decide karenge chal jaldi chal.”
She grabbed Samaira’s wrist and dragged her forward.
__________________________
The departure terminal buzzed with constant announcements, trolley wheels scraping against polished floors, and the distant roar of airplanes taking off. The large glass walls of the airport reflected the bright morning light of Delhi, while inside, emotions ran heavier than luggage.
Prateek stood near the check-in area with his suitcase upright beside him, backpack slung over one shoulder. Today, he wasn’t just boarding a flight he was leaving Delhi for Bangaloreto start college.
Amit stood next to him, calm and composed as always, ready to accompany him to settle things there. The rest of the family had gathered in a semi-circle, turning the airport corner into an emotional drama zone.
Shweta stepped forward first. She cupped Prateek’s cheeks gently, her eyes already glossy.
“apna khyaal rakhna aur mann laga ke padhna,” she said softly, kissing his forehead. He closed his eyes for a second, letting himself be her little boy one last time before stepping into adulthood.
Ruhaan immediately broke the emotional tension, sliding in from the side and half-hugging him.
“all the best bhaii….college phaad dio,” he grinned in his usual cheerful tone.
“best of luck,” Ansh said next, pulling Prateek into a firm hug.
As they parted, Prateek leaned slightly closer and muttered under his breath, “tu to kuch jyada hi khush hoga….”
Ansh smirked without missing a beat.
“boht jyada…. meri behen se door to rahega kam se kam,” he whispered back.
Prateek’s eyes narrowed. “kamine.”
“shouk se,” Ansh replied calmly, the smirk refusing to leave his face.
Before the mock glare could escalate, Vivaan dramatically pushed Ansh aside.
“aree hato bhi….mujhe bhi milne do yrr bhaiya…phirse chipakk gaye app dono ik dusre se,” he complained loudly, earning laughter from everyone nearby.
Prateek opened his arms theatrically. “aja chuhe tu bhi gale mil le.”
Vivaan folded his arms instead. “apse gale kon mil rha hai…main to ye bol rha tha ki ye wala jo device hai na vo mujhe aap parcel karva dena Bangalore se.”
Prateek stared at him in absolute disbelief. Everyone burst out laughing, even Amit shaking his head slightly.
Shagun stepped forward next, giving Prateek a soft side hug. “bye bhaiya…achhe se jana.”
He nodded warmly at her. Then his eyes shifted toward Aditi.
She was sitting casually on one of the waiting chairs, legs crossed, chewing gum lazily like she was watching a boring movie instead of her brother leaving for another city.
“tu bhi bye bolde,” Prateek called out. She didn’t even get up.
“ha bye…ja ab jaldi nikal,” she replied casually, waving her hand dismissively as if shooing away a stray dog.
Shweta gasped lightly. “tera bhai ghar se door ja rha hai aise kon bolta hai…theek se bye bol.”
Aditi groaned dramatically. “kya yrr mammy kab se to aplog yhi kare ja rhe ho i ghante se bye bye hi chal rha hai sabka bss jane hi nhi de rhe ho isko.”
A few people around them turned to look, amused.
Prateek made a disgusted face. “kaisi behen mili hai mujhe.”
“ha na ja chal abhi bhaag,” Aditi shot back instantly. Another round of chuckles echoed.
Finally, Amit cleared his throat gently. “chalo phir sab hogya ho to ham chale.”
He adjusted his watch, ready to move toward security. Just then
“ik minute papa,” Aditi called out. Everyone paused.
Prateek looked at her suspiciously. “ab kya hua?”
She stood up slowly and walked toward him, still chewing gum like she wasn’t affected at all.
“hua ye ki dhang se kapde pehene ki bhi tameez nhi hai tujhe,” she said, reaching up to fix his slightly crooked collar.
From a distance, it looked like typical sibling annoyance. But as she leaned closer, her voice dropped into a whisper only he could hear.
“chup chaap canteen wale area main chala ja…priya wait kar rhi hai tera waha pe.”
Prateek’s expression shifted instantly. A flicker of surprise. Then understanding. Then gratitude.
She stepped back casually. “hogya…ja chal.”
He looked at her for a second longer than usual. There was more in that look than teasing.
“Hogya na ab bss chalein?” Amit confirmed again, mildly impatient now.
“I..ik sec papa,” Prateek said quickly.
Amit frowned slightly. “ab kya hua.”
“main washroom hoke ata hu…bss 2 min wait kar lo,” Prateek said instantly and rushed off before anyone could question further.
Ansh raised a brow. “abhi to gaya tha ye 10 min pehle,” he whispered.
Ruhaan shrugged. “nature’s call hai yrr.”
Shagun grinned mischievously. “nature’s nhi….priya’s call hai.”
Ansh’s head snapped toward the direction where Priya had been standing moments ago. She wasn’t there anymore. But before he could, Aditi smacked his arm lightly.
“aap kya dekh rhe hai peeche…seedhe rahiye chup chaap.”
Ansh straightened immediately, clearing his throat. The group continued chatting lightly, but beneath the jokes and teasing, something deeper lingered.
And while Aditi pretended to be unbothered, her eyes briefly followed the direction he had run.
“Take care, idiot,” she thought silently.
Because sometimes, love between siblings didn’t show in teary hugs.
The airport canteen area was comparatively quieter than the chaotic departure gate outside. The constant echo of announcements blended with the clinking of cups and the faint aroma of coffee.
As soon as Prateek reached there, his eyes instinctively searched for only one person and he found her.
Priya was standing near the corner pillar, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her top. A flicker of worry was written all over her face. The moment her eyes met his, that fragile composure cracked.
Prateek walked towards her quickly. “kya hua…achanak se” he started saying, confusion lacing his voice, but before he could finish, Priya closed the distance and hugged him instantly.
The suddenness of it made him freeze for half a second then his arms wrapped around her protectively. He could feel her trembling slightly.
“priya…kya hau?” he asked, grounding her gently, his brows knitting together as he looked at her concerned face.
Her voice came muffled against his chest. “mujhe dar lag rha hai…aap mujhse door ja rhe hai”
Her words pierced straight through him. He softened immediately.
“main tumse door kaha ja rha hu priya…main to tumhare paas hi hoon hamesha,” Prateek said, his tone steady but tender, as if trying to anchor both of them at once.
Priya slowly backed away, breaking the hug. Her eyes were glistening, unshed tears pooling dangerously at the corners. “i’m scarred prateek…kya ham sach main long distance relationship sambhal payenge?”
There it was the fear she had been holding back.
Prateek stepped closer, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to look at him. His thumbs brushed just under her eyes, careful not to let a tear fall. “ham ik doosre se pyaar karte hai priya….aur jab do log sachha pyaar karte hain to koi kitna bhi door ho sab kuch paar ho jata hai”
His voice didn’t waver. He wasn’t just reassuring her he believed it.
Priya’s lips trembled slightly. “aur agar hamari ladaiya hone lagi…ya apko koi aur pasand aagyi waha jaker to?”
The insecurity wasn’t dramatic. It was real. It was raw.
He almost frowned at the thought. “aisa kabhi nhi hoga….mujhe bss tumse pyaar hai aur bhagwaan ji ne dusri priya aaj tak nahi banayi…aur ladai agar hogi bhi to koi baat nhi ham sab kuch solve kar liya karenge…don’t think to much about it”
He leaned his forehead lightly against hers for a second grounding her, grounding himself.
“pakka?” she asked, her voice small, vulnerable.
He lifted his little finger in front of her. “pinki wala promise….i will always love you and only you” A faint smile tugged at her lips through the tears.
“now stop crying aise rogi tum to main tumko bhi apne sath utha ke le jaunga banglore,” Prateek joked, trying to lighten the heaviness that had settled between them.
Without missing a beat, Priya replied, “i’m ready chaliye”
He blinked at her seriousness before chuckling. “tum bhool rhi ho…ansh bhi aya hai yaha…flight pakadne se pehle hi meri arthi utha dega vo”
That did it. A soft laugh escaped her watery but real.
Still, the fear hadn’t fully left her. “aap pakka mujhe roz call karenge na” she asked, her voice lowering again, almost shyly hopeful.
“har roz karunga,” he replied instantly, cupping her cheeks again and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
He looked at her carefully, memorizing this version of her teary-eyed, emotional, yet strong. “apna khyaal rakhna tum yaha pe…and baoht achhe se padhai krna”
She nodded obediently, like she always did when he turned serious.
“aap bhi apna khyaal rakhna…best of luck,” Priya said softly, rising on her toes and kissing his cheek gently.
He grinned immediately, the playful side of him returning. “yaha bhi”
She shook her head with a tiny smile but leaned forward and kissed his other cheek as well.
For a few more seconds, they just stood there close, quiet, memorizing the warmth before distance tried to test it.
Then reality returned. Prateek inhaled deeply and stepped back. “I’ll call you,” he whispered one last time before turning away.
When he reached back near the gate, Ansh was already standing there, practically shooting daggers at him with his eyes. Prateek caught the glare the protective elder brother mode in full form but simply ignored it. It was almost routine now.
“itna time kyu lga diya tune washroom main?” Amit scolded.
“vo..vo papa bheed thi kaafi,” Prateek lied without blinking.
Ansh’s eyes narrowed.
“hmm….kaafi bheed ho aati hai jab bhaiya washroom jata hai,” Aditi teased, folding her arms.
“hmm” Shagun, Ruhaan and Vivaan joined in unison, stretching the sound dramatically.
Prateek rolled his eyes. “tum logon ko bas mauka chahiye.”
“chal abhii… vrna flight misss ho jayegi,” Amit said sternly.
That was it. The final call. Prateek picked up his luggage, took one last look at all of them his chaotic, dramatic, loud family of friends.
“byeeeee,” he waved happily towards them.
“byeeeeeee,” they all waved back loudly.
Priya had quietly joined the group now. She didn’t shout like the others. She simply raised her hand and waved lightly. Her tears were ready to fall again, but she pulled them back stubbornly.
Prateek’s eyes searched automatically and found her. For a moment, everything else blurred the announcements, the crowd, the noise.
Just her. He gave her a small nod. She gave him the faintest smile. And then he turned and walked toward his flight carrying not just luggage, but promises.
________________________
The late evening air inside the house was calm, almost deceptively peaceful. The living room lights were warm, casting a soft glow over the beige sofas.
Amit was sitting comfortably, slightly slouched, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression. Aditi sat beside him, her legs folded neatly under her, a book open in her hands though her eyes kept drifting from the pages to her father’s screen out of sheer boredom.
From the staircase, Samaira descended slowly. She had rehearsed this moment at least twenty times in her head.
Her face looked composed, almost casual but inside, her heart was thudding loudly against her ribs. Her palms felt slightly sweaty. She knew this conversation could either end in excitement… or complete disaster.
She walked into the living room and stood in front of them.
“papa ik permission chahiye thi” Samaira said cautiously, her voice controlled but slightly softer than usual.
Amit didn’t look up immediately. He continued scrolling for a second before finally lifting his gaze toward her. One eyebrow raised. “kiss cheez ki?”
Samaira swallowed lightly.
“vo maine bataya tha na apko….ki college main kuch international guests aye the 2 mahine pehle” Samaira started, choosing her words carefully.
Before Amit could respond, Aditi suddenly looked up from her book, excitement flashing across her face. “whii…jinko apke cakes boht pasand aye the didi?”
Samaira glanced at her gratefully. “haa whii”
Amit nodded vaguely, still casual. “to…uska kya?”
This was it.Samaira inhaled subtly.
“to na ab like kuch selected students ko na unka bhi ik event attent karna hai and usme mera naam bhi hai” Samaira said hesitantly.
Amit’s thumb paused mid-scroll. “achhi baat hai….jao phir tum bhi,” he replied simply, still looking at his phone.
For a split second, Samaira blinked in disbelief. It can’t be this easy. She shifted her weight slightly.
“vo actually event out of india hai”
The words dropped like a small explosion in the room. Amit’s head snapped up instantly. “out of india….kaha?”
“london main papa….bss 4-5 din ka event hi hai” Samaira said quickly, almost defensively, as if cushioning the impact.
Aditi’s eyes widened dramatically, and she shot Samaira a knowing look half shock, half admiration.
“4-5 DINN…” Amit repeated, stunned, lowering his phone completely now.
“matlab didi aap bhi trip pe ja rhe ho?” Aditi asked, already imagining airport selfies and foreign chocolates.
“trip pe nhi adu…event hai ” Samaira corrected with an awkward smile, though even she couldn’t stop the tiny spark of excitement flickering in her eyes.
Amit leaned back slightly.
“aur ye 4-5 din tum rahogi kaha….aur kon kon ja rha hai?”
Samaira was ready for this.
“vo sab papa college walo ne already dekh liya hai and mere sath rakul, shivanya, roshan, sanskriti aur pallavi ka bhi naam aya hai” Samaira said quickly, listing the names in one breath.
Amit narrowed his eyes slightly. “tum sab akele jaoge?”
“nhi nhi…hamari 2 professor and hod sir bhi chalenge hamre sath” Samaira clarified immediately.
There was a pause. Amit tapped his fingers lightly against his phone. “and paise….vo kitne lagenge?”
Samaira straightened slightly. “vo papa hain mere paas just passport ka dekhna hai”
That impressed him.
“jana kab hai?” he asked.
“agle mahine ki 1st ko” she said.
Aditi closed her book completely now, fully invested. “didi…aap waha event main kya karoge?”
Samaira shot her a subtle warning look. “ab vo to whi jane ke baad pata lagega na adu” Aditi bit back her laughter, understanding exactly what her sister meant.
Amit hummed thoughtfully. “hmmm….”
That humming was dangerous. Samaira’s heartbeat picked up again.
He looked at her not as a little girl asking permission but as a young woman standing on the edge of something big.
“to main jau papa?” Samaira asked in a hesitant tone, almost afraid to blink.
Amit studied her face for a second longer. Then “ha theek hai jao….kuch naya seekhne ko hi milega…jao”
Silence. Aditi’s jaw literally dropped. “itni jaldi maan gaye papa?”
Even Samaira stared at him, stunned. “sach main papa?”
Amit finally smiled that proud, fatherly smile that always made his daughters feel ten feet tall. “ha haa…jao achhe se sab kar ke ana…pata lagna chahiye meri beti ho tum”
That was it. All the composure Samaira had been holding shattered into pure joy.
“thankyouuu papaaaaa” she shrieked and threw her arms around him instantly, hugging him tight.
Amit laughed, slightly embarrassed but clearly pleased. “are bss bhi karo”
She pulled back but her face was glowing eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed with happiness. “love you papa”
And before he could respond properly, she turned and rushed toward the staircase.
“are didi ruko to” Aditi shouted, jumping up from the sofa and running behind her, excitement bubbling out of her.
The house, which had been calm just minutes ago, was now filled with energy.
___________________________
Time slipped through their fingers faster than any of them realized. Half-yearly exams arrived like an unexpected storm, and the entire gang got swallowed by hectic schedules late-night revisions, messy notes, caffeine-fueled mornings, and constant stress.
Prateek had slowly adjusted to his new life in Bangalore. Every single night, no matter how exhausted he was, he called Priya narrating his entire day in dramatic detail, complaining about assignments, laughing about hostel chaos, and in return collecting all the school gossip from her like precious treasure.
Ruhaan, on the other hand, had fully settled into his campus routine, daily practices, small tournaments, constant hustle. His performance graph was rising steadily. But one thing absolutely refused to change, his commitment to taking Shagun on dates every other day, no matter how busy he claimed to be.
Riva and Vivaan who once claimed to loathe each other’s existence had somehow shifted from daily verbal wars to tolerating each other’s nonsense. Slowly, without admitting it, they were beginning to understand one another in ways neither of them expected.
And then there were Ansh and Aditi.
Their love was quiet. Innocent. Almost hidden from the world, yet blooming steadily. Casual evening walks, small hand squeezes, stolen smiles, butterflies that never seemed to fade.
It was one such soft evening.
The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, streetlights flickering on one by one as they walked side by side on the roadside pavement. Their fingers were intertwined naturally like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Ice cream khayenge?” Aditi asked casually, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
“tumhe khaani hai?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
She nodded immediately, eyes brightening.
“chalo phir…khaate hain,” he said happily, guiding her toward a small ice cream cart parked on the side of the road.
The vendor handed them their cones, and Ansh took out his phone to pay. He frowned as he tapped the screen repeatedly. The network circle kept loading.
“why it’s not working,” he muttered under his breath.
“Kya hua?” Aditi asked, licking her ice cream absentmindedly.
“payment fail ho rhi hai…” Ansh whispered, slightly embarrassed.
“cash dedo beta phir,” the vendor suggested politely.
“cash to nhi hai uncle,” Ansh admitted.
Before the situation could get more awkward, Aditi reacted instantly.
“ik min…hold this,” she said quickly, handing him her ice cream as well. He took both cones carefully, watching her.
She opened her sling bag, pulled out her wallet, and paid the vendor without hesitation.
“thankyou uncle,” she said politely, smiling warmly.
But when she turned toward Ansh he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on something inside her open wallet.
The moment she had opened it, a small photograph tucked neatly into one side had caught his attention. It wasn’t just any photograph. It was theirs.
The one Shagun had clicked on Sports Day when they were standing together, medals around their necks,getting too shy barely looking at each other. Unaware of how perfectly they looked together.
“chalein?” she asked casually.
“one sec,” he said softly.
“ye photo tumhare paas kaise ayi?” he asked, still slightly stunned. He gently pointed toward the photo inside her wallet. Realization dawned on her face. She looked down, then back at him and a slow grin spread across her lips.
“kyu achhi nahi lag rhi kya?” she replied teasingly, pulling the photograph out and holding it up in front of him. “dekhiye….hamri sath main 1st photo….achhi to hai kitni”
His ears instantly turned red.
“but ye to mere paas thi….ruhaan ne mujhe di thi….tumhare paas kaise-?” he asked, genuinely shocked. She raised an eyebrow playfully.
“bhool rhe hain aap….mere paas mere tareeke hai photos nikalvane ke,” she teased, winking at him before starting to walk again.
He hurried beside her, still flustered.
“but why do you keep it in your wallet?” he asked, his ears still red, cheeks barely hiding the blush.
She licked her ice cream again, pretending to be nonchalant.
“vo kya hai na….i don’t like when only men raise the standards by keeping their girl’s photograph in their wallet….maine socha…why not me flex my man by keeping him in my wallet”
She said it so casually but the teasing smile never left her lips. He blinked.
“So you flex me everywhere?” he asked, half embarrassed, half pleased.
“ofcourse…” she replied confidently.
His blush deepened even more. He looked down at the road, trying to hide his smile. She noticed.
“vaise aap kaise flex karte ho mujhe?” she asked, now curious.
He paused dramatically.
“main…aise,” he said, pointing toward his face.
She stared at him for a second then realized. His entire face was flushed red. Not just his ears. His cheeks too.
“Aise chilla hua laal tamatar bss tum hi bna skti ho mujhe,” he said honestly.
She looked at him in stunned disbelief for half a second and then burst out laughing, the sound ringing in the quiet evening.
She lightly hit his chest. “pagal ho aap!”
But her heart… Her heart was melting.
Because this boy who stayed composed in every situation, who rarely let his emotions show openly was standing here, blushing like this just because she kept his photo in her wallet.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. Because somewhere deep down, he loved that she wasn’t afraid to claim him even in the smallest ways.
______________________________
The cold London air hit Samaira’s face the moment she stepped out of the airport. It was almost 8 PM, the sky dark but glowing with city lights stretching endlessly ahead. After hours of travel, her body was tired but her heart? Her heart was wide awake, racing with excitement.
“finallyy” Swati exclaimed, dramatically spreading her arms as if she personally owned London.
“ab dhoom machayenge 5 din mil ke” Shrija declared, stretching lazily.
“yayaaayyyy” Samaira joined them, laughing but her excitement had an extra spark. A secret spark.
Swati nudged her knowingly. “chal bula apne bande ko ham bhi to dekhein apne jiju ko”
Samaira instantly shook her head, trying to suppress her smile. “nhi…vo nhi ayega”
“kyuu” Shrija’s jaw dropped in exaggerated shock.
Samaira’s grin widened mischievously. “vo main abhi usko surprise dungi na aaj…kal birthday hai uska isliye usko maine bataya hi nahi ki main london aa rhi hu”
“Ohooooo…ummmm….birthday surprise haan” Swati teased, dragging her words as Samaira’s cheeks turned faintly pink.
“achha chal theek hai phir tu ja uske appartment main….ham bhi hotel main checkin karte hai and kal subha subha mast ghoomne nikal jayenge,” Shrija said.
They all agreed and split into cabs.
During the ride to Aman’s apartment, Samaira kept opening her front camera fixing her hair, adjusting her gloss, checking her outfit from every possible angle. The bouquet of flowers rested carefully in her lap. She imagined his shocked face. Imagined him lifting her and spinning her around. Imagined the perfect birthday surprise.
Her heart was beating so fast it almost felt audible.
When she reached the building, she tipped the driver quickly and stepped out. The lift ride felt longer than it should have. She stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls, smoothing her hair one last time.
She rang the bell. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The door opened.
Aman stood there in a loose t-shirt and joggers, hair slightly messy, looking relaxed and completely unaware of what was about to hit him.
His eyes landed on her. He froze.
“SUPRIZE……MR. STATUE” Samaira shrieked happily, throwing one hand in the air while holding the bouquet in the other.
“samaira..tum” Aman muttered, blinking as if he was hallucinating.
She didn’t give him time to process. She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. Aman instinctively held her waist, steadying her.
“I missed you” she whispered into his neck, breathing him in.
“I missed you more” he whispered back, burying his face in the crook of her neck for a second, inhaling her familiar scent like he needed reassurance she was actually there.
For a brief moment, it was perfect. Then—
“who’s at the door aman”
The unfamiliar female voice cut through the moment like a sharp blade. Samaira slowly pulled back.
Her smile faltered.
Standing inside the apartment was a stunning British girl, wearing shorts and a loose t-shirt, completely at ease. Comfortable. Too comfortable.
Her mind didn’t process logically. It jumped straight to betrayal. Her grip on the bouquet tightened unconsciously.
“ye kon hai?” she asked, her voice losing its earlier brightness.
“tum pehle ander aao main sab batata hu,” Aman said calmly, picking up her bag and guiding her inside.
The girl stepped forward slightly, eyeing Samaira up and down. “who are you miss?”
That was enough.
Samaira crossed her arms instantly, her entire body shifting into defensive mode. “first you tell me who are you….and what are you doing in my boyfriend’s flat?”
The girl blinked in disbelief. “what nonsense?!…it’s my boyfriend’s flat”
Everything inside Samaira collapsed. Her stomach dropped. Her chest tightened. She looked at Aman as if he had just betrayed the universe. Then back at the girl.
“ye kya bakwaas kar rhi hai aman?….main iska muh tod dungi,” Samaira snapped, pointing at her, eyes blazing.
“samaira listen to me first,” Aman tried stepping closer.
But she was already spiraling. “kya sunu main tumhari haan…..ye aise kaise muh utha ke tumhe apna boyfriend bol sakti hai….koi laaj sharam hai ki nhi isme”
The British girl looked horrified. “what the fuck girl! what are you even talking”
“belly i’ll explain everything to you just don’t take her seriously,” Aman rushed, trying to mediate.
“ohh helloo….kya belly kiski belly…and what will you expalin haan….mujhse baat karo tum….internship karne aye the na tum yaha pe….phir ye phirangi kon hai idar aur hai bhi to itni raat ko tumhare falt main kya kar rhi hai?”
Her brain was constructing entire betrayal scenarios in seconds.
“what is this firangi” Belly asked, utterly confused.
“aeee……. tu chup reh agrez….vrna tujhe bhi yhi gaadh dungi main,” Samaira snapped, making a tiny punching gesture.
“Aman what is she doing….is she mentally unstable?” Belly asked.
“mentally unstable kisko bola be…..tu hogi mental, tera poora khandaan mental,” Samaira fired back instantly.
Their voices rose higher. Louder. Faster. Aman barely got a breath in.
“ENOUGH….JUST ENOUGH YOU BOTH……LISTEN TO ME FIRST WILL YOU”Aman’s voice boomed across the apartment.
Silence. Both girls froze. Samaira had never heard him raise his voice like that. Ever. Her anger cracked slightly.
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.
“she is not my girlfriend samaira….she is belly, ankit’s girlfriend and belly she is not ankit’s girlfriend she is my girlfriend samaira”
The words hung in the air. Processing.
“kya hogya bhaii….itna kyu chillaya tu?” another male voice came from inside.
Samaira turned to see a guy walking out casual, confused.
“badi jaldi nhi aagya tu jab poori jang hogyi,” Aman muttered.
And then it hit her. Belly… Ankit’s girlfriend. Not Aman’s.
Her stomach twisted.
Oh.
Oh no.
Her entire dramatic scene replayed in her head the threats, the accusations, the “firangi,” the “muh tod dungi.”
“oh wait…so you’re belly,…his girlfriend” Samaira said slowly, pointing toward Ankit.
“yeah…he’s my boyfriend,” Belly replied, still stunned.
Ankit looked at Samaira closely, then at Aman, silently asking if she was the famous Samaira. Aman gave a small nod.
“ohhhh bhaiii sahaab….to aap hain jhansi ki rani,” Ankit exclaimed dramatically.
Samaira wanted the earth to split open.
“What’s happening here?” Belly asked again.
“I’m so sorry beely….i’m saamira, aman’s girlfriend and i mistook you,” Samaira rushed out, scratching her head repeatedly, her confident energy completely evaporated.
“Ohh so you’re aman’s girlfriend,” Belly said, finally piecing things together. She nodded awkwardly.
“Ohh nice to meet you why didn’t you tell me earlier aman?”
Aman exhaled tiredly. “as if you both ladies gave me a chance?”
Both girls immediately looked away.
“ohh…nevermind….enjoy please…sorry once again,” Samaira laughed awkwardly that painfully embarrassed laugh that refuses to stop.
She grabbed Aman’s hand tightly, desperate to escape the scene, and dragged him toward what she assumed was his room.
But as she confidently pushed open the wrong door
“aman’s room is left one” Ankit’s voice echoed again.
Samaira froze mid-step. Her shoulders stiffened. Slowly… very slowly… she turned around. Without making eye contact with anyone, she corrected her direction and entered the correct room this time.
Her ears were burning red. Behind her, Ankit was trying not to laugh. Belly was still processing the chaos.
Inside the room, Samaira finally let out a long breath, pressing her palm against her chest. “Haash… aate hi bezatti karva lii,” she whispered to herself, trying to laugh it off.
But when she looked up at Aman, the smile faded. He was standing still, his face blank too blank.
“Seriously Samaira!” Aman said in disbelief, and the weight in his voice made her straighten instantly.
“What was that?” he demanded, hurt clearly reflecting in his eyes.
“I… I was just—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Thought ki main tumpe cheat kar rha hoon,” he said sharply.
She nodded a little without thinking, still flustered from everything, and the stunned expression on his face made her immediately shake her head. “No—I mean—”
“Hadd hai yrr Samaira,” he muttered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Are Aman suno to yrr,” she followed him quickly and sat beside him.
“Kya sunu main… haan? You didn’t even let me say a single word aur tum shuru hogyi seedha thinking I cheated on you… jabki main yaha kisi ladki ko janta tak nhi hu Belly ke alawa, vo bhi just because vo Ankit ki girlfriend hai isliye. And here you’re not trusting me and—”
Before he could finish, Samaira leaned forward and pressed her lips firmly against his. The words died on his lips instantly.
For a second, Aman froze. His frustration, his anger everything paused in that single heartbeat. Samaira cupped his face gently, her fingers trembling slightly as she held him, her lips soft but determined against his. It wasn’t aggressive; it wasn’t playful. It was apologetic. It was desperate.
She moved her lips slowly over his, trying to pour every unsaid sorry into that kiss.
Aman’s eyes fluttered shut as the warmth of her touch replaced the sting of her accusation. His hands instinctively moved to her waist, steadying her as he responded. The tension in his body slowly melted. He kissed her back soft at first, then deeper, but still tender his frustration dissolving into the familiarity of her presence.
Her fingers slipped into his hair, holding him closer, afraid he might pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, keeping her close as if he needed to feel that she was real, that she was here.
They shifted on the bed without breaking contact, Aman gently guiding her back as he leaned over her, still careful, still controlled. The kiss was no longer rushed it was slow, lingering, filled with months of distance and seconds of misunderstanding. Every breath they shared felt heavier than the last.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other. Their noses brushed lightly, and neither of them moved away.
“You really know how to shut me up,” he whispered, his voice low but no longer angry just softened.
“Do I?” she whispered back, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
And this time, when she pulled him back into another kiss, it was deeper but calmer. Not desperate. Not defensive. Just them.
________________________________
Time had moved faster than anyone expected. Between preparations, medical tests, paperwork, and silent prayers, the final result had arrived. Ansh had cleared his interview. Officially selected. Officially a cadet-to-be of the NDA academy in Pune. One more solid step toward the dream he had carried in his heart since childhood.
And now, that dream stood in front of him in the form of a boarding pass.
He stood at the airport terminal, luggage beside him, announcement screens flashing flight details to Pune. The air smelled of coffee and departure. People rushed around, but for his family, time felt strangely slow.
“All the best beta,” Kriti said softly, stepping forward and kissing his forehead with warmth and pride.
“Thankyou chachi ji,” Ansh whispered back, his voice steady but his eyes already searching for one face.
They found his mother.
Kiran stood a little behind, her dupatta clutched tightly in her fist, eyes red, tears spilling despite her attempts to control them.
“Kya maa… aap ro kyu rhi ho?” Ansh said with a soft chuckle as he walked to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Hatt… door reh mujhse… whi ja maa ki to padi hi nhi hai tujhe,” Kiran complained, lightly shoving him away but her hands trembled.
He didn’t budge an inch.
“Ab aise to mat bhagao… thoda sa to pyaar kar lo,” he said affectionately, pulling her into a tight hug.
That was it. Her composure broke. She clung to him, small sobs escaping as she kissed his cheeks again and again like he was still her little boy leaving for his first day of school.
“Call karte rehna vrna boht marungi,” she said between tears.
He smiled against her shoulder. “Pakaa.”
“Badi maa to aise bol rhi hai jaise bhaiya abhi hi border pe ja rhe ho jang ladne,” Vivaan chimed in, trying to lighten the heaviness.
A few chuckles escaped.
“Ha jab jayega na to Ansh isse bhi le jaiyo apne sath mouse trap ka kaam karega chuha hamara,” Sanjay joked, patting Vivaan’s head.
“Kya papa… iklauta beta hu apka aise to mat bolo,” Vivaan said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.
The tension eased a little.
“All the best bhaiya,” Priya said, stepping forward and hugging him tightly. She held on a second longer than usual.
He hugged her back warmly. “Tum bhi acche se padhna… main ja rha hu iska matlb ye nhi ki tum dono sirf masti karte rahoge.”
“Apko bata ke thodi karenge mast,” Vivaan chimed in instantly.
Ruhaan smacked him lightly on the head.
“Main abhi bhi yhi hoon mujhse dar ke rehna padega,” Ruhaan said, raising an eyebrow.
“Aree jao na… apse to billi bhi na dare,” Vivaan shot back, earning another glare.
Ruhaan rolled his eyes but then turned serious as he stepped toward Ansh.
“All the best bhai…” he said, pulling him into a firm hug not playful this time, but solid. Respectful.
Then he leaned closer and whispered, barely audible, “Aditi se mil le ik baar jaake… she’s waiting outside the washroom area.”
Ansh froze. For a second, the airport noise faded.
He had told her about his departure. He remembered how she had tried to sound normal tried to joke even but her voice had carried that faint dullness he knew too well. The silence between her sentences had said more than her words.
He had asked her not to come. He had been scared she might break down at the airport. And he knew if she cried, he would too.
But she was here. Waiting.
“Hogya chalein?” Rajveer asked, checking the time.
“Main washroom se aya papa,” Ansh said immediately, picking up his phone.
Vivaan muttered under his breath, “Haan… jaiye jaiye… apko bhi ani hi thi iss samay.”
Ansh shot him a sharp glare, but there was no real anger in it only urgency.
As soon as Ansh stepped away from his family, his composed walk turned into hurried strides. Then into a run.
He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see her eyes filled with tears. He wasn’t ready to feel his own resolve shake. But he couldn’t leave without seeing her once.
The airport corridor leading toward the washroom area felt longer than usual. His heartbeat pounded in his ears not from running, but from the weight of goodbye.
And then he saw her.
Aditi was sitting on a metal bench near the washroom corridor, her head lowered, fingers intertwined tightly in her lap. Her legs were shaking slightly, heel tapping against the floor unconsciously. She looked small. Vulnerable. Like she was holding herself together with sheer force.
He slowed down. For a second, he just stood there, memorizing her.
“Isha…” His voice was soft, but it carried.
In an instant, she looked up. The moment her eyes met his, she stood up quickly. He was slightly breathless from running, chest rising and falling, but as she walked toward him, something inside him calmed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, worry lacing his tone.
“i came here to see you off,” she whispered.
Her voice was fragile.
“But you promised me you won’t come,” he said, almost helplessly.
“Chupp rahiye… itni badi opportunity ke liye ja rhe ho aap aur main apko best of luck bolne bhi na aau,” she scolded softly.
He shut up immediately.
“Hath dijiye,” she demanded.
Without questioning her, he extended his hand.
“Left wala nahi right wala dijiye.”
He obeyed silently. She held his right wrist gently. Her fingers were cold. Slightly trembling.
From her pocket, she pulled out a thin black thread. Without looking at him, she began tying it carefully around his wrist. Her head remained lowered as if she was focusing too hard but in reality, she was hiding the tears forming in her eyes.
“What is this?” he asked softly.
“It will protect you… it has my prayers for you,” she said quietly, tightening the knot again and again unnecessarily, just to delay the moment.
“It’s enough Isha… it’s tied now,” Ansh said gently, placing his other hand over hers to steady them.
Her hands were trembling.
“Don’t remove it please,” she finally looked up at him.
There was fear in her eyes. Not logical fear. Just the fear of distance. Of uncertainty.
“As my Isha says,” he replied with a soft, reassuring smile.
That was all it took.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his torso, burying her face into his chest.
He immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close pressing her into him like he wanted to memorize the feeling. Her head fit perfectly under his chin. He inhaled slowly.
They didn’t move. But with every passing second, her grip tightened. He could feel it. His hand moved up to her head, stroking her hair gently. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, trying to ground her.
“You promishe me Isha… you won’t cry,” he whispered.
And that broke her. She clutched his shirt at the back tightly, her fingers digging into the fabric as her body began shaking. Her sobs grew louder against his chest, muffled but intense.
Ansh tilted his head upward, blinking rapidly, trying to stop his own tears. But they fell anyway. His grip tightened around her as if he could shield her from everything.
“Aap mujhe bhool to nhi jayenge na?” she managed to say between sobs, her voice cracking, face still buried in his chest.
That sentence pierced him.
He gently pulled her back, his hands moving to cup her cheeks. He forced her to look at him.
Her face was red. Tears streaming endlessly. Hiccups breaking her breathing.
“Look at me Isha… don’t you ever think of this… I can forget myself but when it comes to you… no one will make me forget you… not even you yourself,” he said firmly, grounding her.
She held his hands tightly like they were the only stable thing in her world.
“Main apko boht miss karungi,” she cried.
“Main bhi boht miss karunga tumko,” he replied, voice thick.
“Main hamesha tumhe call karunga whenever I get time… I promise you’ll be the first one I’ll call pakka.”
She nodded desperately.
“Aap apna khyaal rakhna please… apko kuch nhi hona chahiye.”
“Nhi hoga mujhe kuch… this kala dhaga will protect me right?” he said softly, lifting his wrist slightly.
She nodded instantly.
And then she hugged him again this time wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed tightly together like they were trying to erase the space that was about to come between them.
Her sobs echoed against his shoulder.
“Isha please stop na… don’t cry this much… it’s making me weak,” he whispered, rubbing her back slowly. Tears were running down his face now too.
“Mujhe boht dar lag rha hai,” she whispered.
“I’ll come soon Isha… please let me go now,” he said gently, trying to loosen his hold.
But she held him tighter.
“Isha flight ka time ho rha hai… I’ll miss it if you won’t leave me now,” he whispered again.
Her grip only tightened. He inhaled deeply.
“If you stay like this for one more minute then I’m surely not going anywhere… no NDA, no army… phir you won’t even get to call me your fauji ji.” His tone was firmer now, but his hand still caressed her hair lovingly.
That worked. She immediately pulled away.
“Nhi nhi… aise kaise nahi jayenge aap,” she said quickly, wiping her tears furiously, almost scolding herself.
“Don’t cry now… and wish me luck now,” he said softly, wiping his own tears and then wiping hers again.
He bent his head slightly out of habit.
And just like always, her fingers moved into his hair gently, combing through it softly. It was their ritual. She always wished him luck like this before any exam, any match, any important day.
“Best of luck fauji ji,” she whispered.
And she pressed a long, lingering kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he cupped her face again, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop. He kissed her right cheek softly. Then her left. Then her forehead.
Each kiss felt like a silent promise.
“Mere liye meri Isha ka khyaal rakhna… and please don’t cry,” he said quietly.
His hands found hers one last time. He lifted them and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
“I love you Isha… I love you very much,” he whispered.
And then he stepped backward. She stood there, frozen. Every instinct in her body screamed to run back into his arms. To stop him. To say don’t go.
But she didn’t. Because she loved him. And loving him meant letting him chase his dream. Aditi stood exactly where he had left her.
Her feet felt rooted to the airport floor, as if moving even an inch would make this goodbye more real than it already was. Her fingers were still slightly curled, remembering the feel of his shirt in her grip. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths shaky, eyes blurred with tears she was trying failing to control.
Every part of her wanted to run. To close the distance in two seconds. To throw her arms around him again. To say don’t go.
But she didn’t. Because loving him meant not being selfish. Because his dream was bigger than her fear.
Because she had fallen in love with the boy who wanted to wear that uniform and she could not be the reason he ever hesitated.
Her nails pressed into her palms as she forced herself to stay still. Ansh walked a few steps away before something inside him compelled him to turn back.
He did. And there she was. Still standing. Still crying.
Her shoulders were trembling slightly. Tears streamed freely now, no longer hidden. But when she saw him look back, she quickly straightened wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, almost stubbornly.
“You don’t get to cry now, Isha. You promised.”
Her lips quivered, but instead of breaking down again, she lifted her hands slowly to her mouth and pressed her palms against her lips. Then, with trembling fingers, she sent him the smallest flying kiss.
Ansh’s throat tightened painfully. He didn’t blink. If he blinked, he knew his tears would fall again.
Instead, very slowly, deliberately, he raised his right hand. The hand she had just held. The wrist she had just tied with her prayers. The black thread rested there simple, thin, but heavier than anything he had ever worn.
He brought his wrist to his lips and kissed the thread gently. His eyes never left hers. That one silent gesture carried everything he couldn’t say aloud “I’m carrying you with me. I’m not going alone.”
“do recommend a song which will go with this departure scene of ansh…..please🥹”
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That’s all this chapter….hope you liked it.🫶
Don’t forget to vote and leave your comments.🥹
Also sorry agar kisi ko samaira ka Amit se jhooth bolna pasand nhi aya ho but it happens more often so please don’t mind it dill pe mat Lena 🥲🥹
Lots of love ❤️
~Prachi💌
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