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The iron gates of the National Defence Academy rose like a fortress against the pale orange sky of early morning. Tall, immovable, and imposing they seemed less like an entrance and more like a threshold between two completely different lives. Beyond them lay miles of discipline.
Ansh stepped down from the bus slowly, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The weight of it barely registered compared to the weight settling quietly inside his chest.
The air in Pune felt different from Delhi. It carried the faint scent of wet earth, trimmed grass, and something else he couldn’t quite name something disciplined, almost military in its stillness.
For a moment, he simply stood there. Cadets were stepping off buses around him, trunks being unloaded, parents murmuring last-minute advice, some trying to hide the tears in their eyes.
But Ansh barely noticed them. His gaze was fixed on the campus stretching before him.
Wide roads ran straight and purposeful through the academy grounds, bordered by disciplined rows of trees standing as if even they had been trained to maintain formation. Massive stone buildings stood in the distance symmetrical, austere, and commanding respect without effort.
Nothing here looked casual. Nothing here looked forgiving. This wasn’t preparation anymore. This was the beginning.
A voice behind him broke the silence. “All the best, beta.” Ansh turned.
Rajveer stood a few steps away near the gate, hands in his pockets, watching him with quiet pride. His expression held the calm of a man who understood exactly what this place meant and what it demanded.
For a second, Ansh’s confident exterior softened. He walked toward him. Rajveer pulled him into a brief, firm hug the kind that carried a thousand unsaid emotions but lasted only two seconds.
No drama. No long goodbye. Just strength.
“I’m proud of you,” Rajveer said quietly. Ansh smiled faintly. “Thank you, Papa.”
He picked up his bag again. This time, when he turned toward the academy, there was no pause. Behind him stood the life he had known. Ahead of him stood the life he had chosen. And he walked forward without looking back.
Inside the administrative block, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Efficiency ruled everything. No warm welcomes. No speeches. Just procedure.
A long desk stretched across the hall where officers and clerks sat with files stacked in precise piles. Cadets stood in organized lines, each waiting for verification.
“Name.” the clerk asked.
“Ansh Singhania.” Ansh answered.
A clerk checked a list, flipped through documents, verified identification, and finally drew a firm line across his name on the register.
Tick. Just like that, he officially existed inside the system. A temporary slip was slid toward him.
Squadron: Hunter Squadron
Room Number: 217
“Report to baggage deposit and then squadron lines,” the clerk said without looking up.
“Yes, sir,” Ansh responded automatically.
The words came naturally. Almost instinctively.
He moved toward the baggage section where trunks, duffel bags, and suitcases were being tagged and recorded. Cadets followed instructions quickly placing luggage exactly where directed.
Even something as simple as setting down a bag seemed regulated. It impressed him. He liked it.
Soon, a tall senior cadet arrived to escort a batch of fresh cadets to their squadron blocks. His uniform was perfectly pressed, his posture razor sharp.
“Follow in line. No talking,” the senior ordered.
They obeyed instantly. The walk toward the squadron lines felt longer than it probably was. Not because of distance. But because of realization.
On either side stood imposing stone buildings with arched corridors and broad staircases. Neatly cut lawns stretched across the campus like green carpets. Flagpoles stood tall, their ropes clinking softly in the morning breeze.
Far in the distance, a whistle blew sharply. Then came the synchronized rhythm of running boots. Dozens of cadets ran past an open field in perfect formation.
The sound echoed across the grounds like a heartbeat. Something inside Ansh responded instantly. His spine straightened. His steps unconsciously matched their rhythm.
One day… that will be me.” his chest tightened.
They reached a long corridor lined with identical doors. Each door had a small metal plate beside it engraved with room numbers. The senior checked his list.
“Room 217.”
Ansh stepped forward. The senior pointed toward him, then toward another boy standing a couple of steps behind. “That’s yours. And yours.”
Without another word, the senior walked away. For a moment, the corridor fell silent. Ansh turned slightly.
The other boy was almost his height, lean, with sharp observant eyes. His hair was slightly messy from the journey, and he was gripping a heavy trunk with both hands.
There was nervous energy in his stance. But there was something else too. Determination. The boy gave a small nod.
“Cleared in first attempt?” he asked casually.
Ansh raised an eyebrow slightly. “Does it show that clearly?”
The boy smirked faintly. “A little.”
He adjusted his grip on the trunk and extended his hand.
“Arjun Desai.” he introduced.
“Ansh Singhania.” ansh said.
They shook hands briefly. No exaggerated enthusiasm. Just acknowledgement. They stepped into the room together. Room was exactly what one would expect from a military academy.
Two iron cots stood parallel to each other with neatly folded blankets placed at the foot. Two wooden study tables were positioned near the wall, each paired with a straight-backed chair.
Steel cupboards stood beside the beds. A single window allowed pale sunlight to filter into the room, illuminating the plain cream walls.
There were no posters. No decorations. No comfort items. Just structure.Just discipline.The room smelled faintly of fresh paint, metal, and detergent.
Arjun placed his trunk beside the left cot.Ansh took the right one.For a few seconds, neither spoke.The silence felt different now.Back home, silence meant peace. Here, silence meant expectation.
Arjun finally broke it. “Where are you from?”
“Delhi,” Ansh replied while opening his cupboard and folding his clothes with careful precision. “You?”
“Jaipur.” arjun replied.
They continued organizing their belongings in quiet efficiency. The routine itself felt grounding.
After a few minutes, Arjun leaned back slightly against the cupboard. “You nervous?”
Ansh paused. Images flickered through his mind. The massive parade ground. The brutal training he had heard about. The seniors they hadn’t met yet.
The expectations of the academy. Then another image appeared.Aditi tying the black thread around his wrist. His fingers subconsciously brushed against it now.
“I’m ready,” he said calmly. Arjun studied him for a moment before smiling slightly.
“Good. Because I heard the first week is brutal.” arjun said.
Ansh’s lips curved faintly. “I know.”
Arjun chuckled. “You’re one of those serious types, aren’t you?”
Ansh glanced around the room again. The bare walls. The iron bed. The sunlight falling in quiet lines through the window.
Then he spoke slowly. “Kind of.” He closed his cupboard door. “This place will change us.” His voice was calm but firm. “Might as well let it make us better.”
For a brief moment, Arjun’s expression shifted. Casual curiosity turned into respect. Before he could reply, a loud whistle pierced through the corridor.
A voice followed immediately. “Fall in!”
Both boys looked toward the door instantly. It had begun. Ansh rolled his shoulders once and adjusted the black thread around his wrist. Then he walked toward the corridor beside Arjun.
_____________________________
A red cab rolled away from the curb as Samaira stepped onto the pavement of London, Aman following right behind her. The evening sky stretched wide above them soft blue melting into faint peach near the horizon. The air felt crisp, cleaner than what they were used to, carrying a calmness that wrapped around the city like a quiet promise.
She paused mid-step. Her eyes lifted upward, drinking in the serene sky, the symmetry of the buildings, the distant outline of the London Eye slowly turning against the skyline.
“WOW” she whispered, completely mesmerised.
Aman didn’t look at the sky first. He looked at her. The way her face softened. The way her eyes sparkled like she was seeing a dream unfold in real time.
“haina sundar” aman asked with a gentle smile.
“Haaa….boht sundar” samaira said, still gazing around as if afraid the view might disappear if she blinked too long.
Tourists walked past them, cameras clicking. Red double-decker buses moved along the road. The Thames shimmered faintly under the fading sunlight. Everything looked neat. Organized. Peaceful. She turned toward him suddenly, her expression thoughtful.
“tumhe to yaha boht achha lagta hogya na….clean roads, clean air, decent people and this amazing view” she asked.
There was a teasing undertone, but also curiosity like she genuinely wanted to know if this place felt more perfect to him than home.
Aman let out a soft chuckle, sliding his hands into his coat pockets before stepping a little closer to her. The breeze made her cardigan shift slightly, and without thinking, he reached out and adjusted it around her shoulders, tugging it gently so she wouldn’t feel cold.
“that’s true…but….i miss you here….tum yaha mere sath hoti to baat hi alag hoti” aman said, his voice warm, unguarded.
The confession came so naturally that it made her heart skip.
She tilted her head slightly. “abhi to ho yha main tumhare sath.”
He smiled faintly, eyes softening. “tabhi to main bhi yaha aya hoon and akar achha lag rha hai mujhe vrna i always miss you.”
The way he said it wasn’t dramatic. It was simply Honest. As if missing her had become a routine part of his existence.
Samaira’s lips curved into a mischievous grin suddenly, her mood shifting the way it always did – from emotional to playful in seconds.
“ham na shaadi ke baad yaha phir se ayenge honeymoon ke liye,” samaira said excitedly.
The word honeymoon hit Aman like a sudden electric shock. His ears turned visibly red. He blinked rapidly. “what…honeymoon?!”
She looked at him like he had just asked the most obvious question in the world. “haan obviously….shadi ke baad honeymoon pe nhi ayenge to hamara product kaise ayega.”
He froze. “product?!”
“Haa….hamara baby….maine to naam bhi soch liye hai..” she continued excitedly, completely unfazed by his rising embarrassment. “ladhka hoga to kittu….aur agar ladki hui to chinki.”
She looked at him with full enthusiasm, waiting for his reaction like she had just shared a brilliant business plan.
Aman stared at her. Stunned. Speechless. His brain was still stuck at honeymoon. She was already planning baby names. His throat went dry.
“Kya hua…aise kyu dekh rhe ho?” she asked, finally noticing his shocked expression.
He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “tum kuch bolne se pehle sochti nhi ho na bilkul bhi?”
“nhiii,” she said casually, as if that was a badge of honor.
“Inme sochna kya hai…kal ko hamari shaadi hogi to bachhe bhi honge hi na… main virgin thodi marungi aur obviously tumko bhi virgin thodi-“
“bass priytamma jii bss karo…boht hogyi family planning…ham yaha ghoomne aye hai,” Aman cut her off quickly, his face now completely red.
He looked like he wanted the pavement to swallow him whole.
A couple walking past glanced at them curiously, probably catching fragments of the conversation. Aman cleared his throat awkwardly and adjusted his watch, avoiding eye contact.
“Ohh haan,” samaira said suddenly, as if she had genuinely forgotten they were standing in the middle of London discussing future children. “main poochti hu swati aur shrija se ki vo log pohche ki nahi.”
She pulled out her phone, already typing in the group chat. Aman exhaled deeply, shoulders finally relaxing.
“finally,” he let out a sigh breath in low whisper.
_____________________________
It was early evening in Delhi, and the sky outside Shagun’s window was painted in fading shades of orange and dusty pink. The soft hum of traffic drifted faintly from the main road, but inside her room, everything felt still and focused. Books were scattered across her study table, sticky notes marking important pages, and her laptop screen glowed with an online lecture still playing in the background.
She was scribbling down notes when a strange sensation ran through her that unsettling awareness that someone was watching.
Her pen paused mid-sentence. The hairs on her arms prickled. Her balcony curtains moved ever so slightly. Her heart thudded.
Slowly, cautiously, she stood up from her chair. Without making noise, she grabbed the nearest thing she could use as a weapon her steel water bottle. It felt solid and heavy in her hand.
If someone was out there, she was fully prepared to smash first and ask questions later. She tiptoed toward the balcony, each step deliberate. Her breath slowed, eyes narrowing in suspicion. With one swift motion, she yanked the curtains aside.
And there he was. Ruhaan. Grinning like an absolute idiot. The glass door was still locked, so he leaned slightly over the pane and waved dramatically at her.
“Hiiiii,” he said, his voice slightly muffled through the glass but his grin perfectly visible.
Shagun physically took a step back, squinting at him in disbelief. Then she rolled her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical. Her expression shifted into that familiar done face the one that clearly said of course it’s you… who else would climb balconies for fun?
She unlocked the window with visible irritation and slid it open. He climbed in effortlessly, landing inside her room as if this was a daily routine.
“Ouch yrr…window open rakha karo na…mere ane jane ke liye,” Ruhaan complained, dusting his hands off dramatically as if he had endured a great struggle.
Shagun crossed her arms instantly, the earlier fear now replaced by annoyance.
“Mujhe to sapne ayenge na ki tum choro ki tarah mere kamre main ghusoge,” she replied, her tone sharper than usual – edged with coldness that didn’t go unnoticed.
Ruhaan’s smile faltered slightly. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice softening as he caught the shift.
She didn’t answer. Just looked at him with an expression that clearly said figure it out yourself.
“Batao to gungun yrrr,” he coaxed, stepping closer to her.
She didn’t move. Didn’t look at him. Just tightened her crossed arms.
“Batao naa,” he tried again, this time slipping his arms gently around her waist from the side and pulling her a little closer. He tilted his head downward to catch her eyes, trying to read her expression.
But instead of melting like she usually did, Shagun pushed him away and walked to her bed, sitting down with her back straight and chin lifted.
“Jao yaha se…mujhe baat nhi karni tumse,” she said angrily.
Ruhaan frowned, confused but slightly amused too.
“Are batao to kyu gussa ho,” he insisted, climbing onto the bed behind her without permission and wrapping his arms around her from behind. He rested his chin near her shoulder and rubbed his cheek playfully against hers.
She tried to shake him off but he held on stubbornly.
“Nhi…tum jao apni uss new friend se baat karo,” she muttered, her voice carrying a clear sting of jealousy.
Ruhaan paused.
“Kon new friend?” he asked genuinely, pulling back slightly to look at her.
“Whii jiske sath tumne parso Instagram post daali thi,” she said, the taunt evident in her tone.
And suddenly, it clicked. Instead of immediately panicking, a teasing smirk slowly formed on his lips.
“Awwww…so you’re jelly jelly,” he teased, leaning closer again, clearly enjoying this revelation.
She looked down, unable to hold eye contact. And then she nodded. With a tiny pout. Ruhaan’s teasing expression softened instantly.
“Awww…she just some cheer girl in senior year,” he explained casually.
“To…why she’s so chape to you?” Shagun shot back, finally looking at him properly now, brows furrowed.
“Vo actually uska bhaii mera batchmate hai na that’s why she just ask me about her brother’s performance that’s it,” he said, cupping her face gently between his palms so she couldn’t look away.
His tone was steady now. Honest.
“Pakka?” she asked quietly.
“Pakka,” he replied without hesitation.
She studied his face for a second longer searching for mischief, for lies, for that dramatic Ruhaan energy. But there was none.
“Phir theek hai,” she said finally, and leaned forward to hug him properly this time.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly, one hand stroking her back slowly. He buried his face lightly in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent like it grounded him.
For a moment, the tension dissolved. Then she pulled back just enough to glare at him.
“Agar kisi aur ladhki ko tumne galti se bhi zara si bhi line di na…to I swear…ankhein noch lungi main tumhari,” she warned, narrowing her eyes dangerously.
Ruhaan’s eyes widened theatrically for half a second before he let out a chuckle.
“Jaisa aap kahein,” he said dramatically, joining his hands together and bowing down in mock obedience.
The exaggerated gesture broke her composure completely. She burst into laughter.
“Shagun!” The deep, familiar voice echoed from the hall, firm yet tired – and it made Shagun freeze mid-step.
Her heart dropped straight to her stomach. That voice wasn’t just anyone’s. It was her father’s.
“Shittt… papa aa gye,” she whispered in horror, her eyes widening as she looked at Ruhaan.
“Mar gaya,” Ruhaan muttered under his breath, his confident balcony-climbing energy vanishing in a second.
For once, even he looked genuinely panicked.
“Tum chhup jao ya bhaag jao wapas jaldii,” Shagun hissed urgently, shoving him toward the balcony again. Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed him toward the curtains.
Without waiting for his reply, she rushed out of her room and shut the door behind her, trying to steady her breathing before stepping into the hall.
“Haan papa,” she said, forcing her voice to sound normal as she walked toward him.
Suresh had just entered, still in his office clothes, sleeves slightly rolled up, a faint exhaustion visible on his face. He placed his briefcase aside and looked at her with a softness that wasn’t always there.
“Beta main tumhare liye kuch laya tha… dekho achha hai ki nahi,” he said, handing her a neatly packed shopping bag.
She blinked in surprise. “For me?”
She quickly peeked inside.
The first thing she pulled out was a pastel blue dress soft fabric, elegant but simple, the kind that would flow beautifully when worn. Beneath it, carefully wrapped, was a book.
Her breath caught. She immediately forgot about the dress and pulled the book out properly. It was the special edition novel she had been searching for everywhere. The one that was always “out of stock.” Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“This bookk,” she exclaimed, her voice lighting up instantly. “Aapko kaha mili ye… main kab se dhoond rhi thi isse!”
Her face glowed in a way it hadn’t in a long time pure, unfiltered happiness. Suresh watched her carefully, a small proud smile forming on his lips.
“Mere ik business partner abroad gaye the to unhi se magwa li maine tumhare liye,” he said casually while pouring himself a glass of water.
But there was nothing casual about the effort. He had remembered. He had arranged it specially.
“Thankyou papa,” she said, her voice softer now genuine gratitude filling it.
For a brief second, something unspoken passed between them. Years of distance. Misunderstandings. Silence. And yet in this moment, there was warmth.
“Achha vo dress ik baar pehen ki dikhao mujhe… does it fits you or not?” he asked, gesturing toward the pastel blue fabric.
“Haan theek hai abhi aati hoon,” she replied quickly, unable to stop smiling. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly something she didn’t do often.
He stiffened for a fraction of a second in surprise. Then gently patted her back. She pulled away and hurried toward her room, excitement bubbling inside her.
The moment she closed the door, she let out a silent squeal and jumped slightly on the spot, clutching the novel to her chest.
“I finally got you,” she whispered dramatically to the book, grinning like a child.
“Uncle gaye kya?” The sudden whisper from behind the curtains made her jolt violently.
“Ahhh!” she gasped, nearly dropping the book.
She turned sharply toward the balcony. Ruhaan’s head peeked out from behind the curtain, eyes wide and mischievous.
She stared at him in disbelief. “Tum gaye nahi abhi tak?”
“Hehee,” he grinned sheepishly, stepping out fully now like he hadn’t just almost died of a heart attack ten minutes ago. She rolled her eyes in exasperation, though relief flickered in her expression too.
“Batao na kya laye uncle tumhare liye?” Ruhaan asked, finally walking toward her properly.
Her annoyance melted quickly as she lifted the book again.
“Ye ik dress aur ye special edition wali book,” she said, bouncing slightly on her feet, her excitement impossible to hide.
He watched her carefully. The way her eyes shone. The way her voice carried happiness instead of heaviness. he had seen the quiet pain she carried regarding her father the distance, the emotional gap, the unspoken hurt.
And now? She was glowing. Not because of him. But because her father had tried. Ruhaan smiled softly.
“That’s nice,” he said quietly, his teasing tone replaced by something warmer.
She didn’t notice the depth in his gaze as she flipped through the book pages excitedly.
But he did. He noticed how her happiness today felt different.
_____________
Samaira stood in front of the tall mirror in her room, the warm yellow lights of the vanity reflecting softly across the walls. The evening outside had begun settling into London’s calm night, but inside the room there was a quiet excitement in the air.
She adjusted the straps of her perfectly stitched red bodycon dress, smoothing the fabric over her waist. The dress hugged her figure effortlessly, elegant yet bold, and the slight open back revealed the smooth curve of her back and the small mole resting near her shoulder blade.
Leaning slightly closer to the mirror, she focused on applying the final touch of her lipstick, her brows narrowing slightly with concentration.
Behind her, the door opened quietly. Aman stepped inside.
He had already finished getting ready. Dressed in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and formal black trousers, he looked sharp and composed exactly like the successful young businessman everyone expected him to be.
But the moment his eyes fell on Samaira standing in front of the mirror, all that composure faded. For a few seconds he simply stood there, watching her.
His gaze slowly traveled from her hair falling down her shoulders to the elegant cut of her dress, then to the open back that revealed the soft skin beneath.
A slow smile appeared on his lips. Without making any sound, he walked closer.
Before Samaira could notice, his arms slipped around her waist from behind, pulling her gently against him.
She flinched slightly at the sudden contact. But the familiar scent reached her instantly.
“Aman…” she murmured softly.
He rested his chin on her shoulder, their eyes meeting through the mirror.
“Achhi lag rahi hoon na?” she asked casually while finishing her lipstick.
Aman didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze lowered slowly toward the back of her shoulder. He gently gathered her hair and moved it to one side, revealing the delicate mole on her back.
His eyes darkened slightly. Without another word, he leaned down. His lips brushed against the small mole, lingering there for a moment.
Samaira’s breath hitched. A faint shiver ran down her spine as he kissed the spot slowly, as if savoring it. Then his lips moved upward toward her nape.
The warm touch of his mouth against the sensitive skin there made her eyes close instantly. Her head tilted slightly to the side, giving him more access without even realizing it.
“Aman…” she whispered softly, her voice barely steady.
“hmm” he hummed back near her ear.
But he didn’t stop. His lips continued pressing soft, slow kisses along the curve of her neck, each one lingering just enough to make her breath uneven. The warmth of his mouth and the closeness of his hold sent little jolts down her spine.
Samaira tried to steady herself by placing her hands lightly on the table in front of the mirror.
“We have to go Aman… stop it,” she whispered, though her voice lacked real protest.
Aman chuckled quietly against her skin.
“How?” he murmured softly. “That mole right there is testing my patience.”
He kissed it again this time slower. Samaira exhaled sharply and opened her eyes, trying to regain control of herself.
” Aman… we’ll get late.”
She finally slipped out of his arms and turned to face him. But the moment she did, Aman caught her waist again and pulled her closer. The sudden movement made her stumble slightly against him.
“Aman stop or we’ll get—”
Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her lips. Not just a quick peck this time. His lips pressed against hers firmly, lingering just long enough to leave her completely stunned.Then he pulled back slightly, watching her reaction with a teasing glint in his eyes.
Samaira blinked in shock. “Aman tum—”
He leaned forward again and kissed her once more, quick and playful. Her eyes widened.
“Aman—”
Another kiss. Now she was staring at him in complete disbelief. After a few seconds she pushed him lightly on the chest.
“Tumhe aisa kisne bana diya?” she said, clearly shocked.
“Pehle to main kareeb bhi aati thi tumhare to tum aise sharmate the jaise main tumhari izzat loot rahi hoon… aur ab itni boldness?”
She folded her arms dramatically.
“What’s this matter huh… sikha kaun raha hai tumhe ye sab?”
Aman looked down, suppressing a laugh.
“Pakka Ankit ne hi sikhaya hoga tumko ye sab… haina?”
Instead of answering, he stepped closer again.
His hands gently reached up to her hair, arranging the strands falling across her shoulders and tucking them softly behind her ears.
His expression softened as he looked at her.
“Ab tum itni hot dikhogi…” he whispered slowly. “…to main khud ko control kaise karunga?”
Samaira’s confident expression faltered slightly. Her ears turned faintly red.
“Come on Aman… let me get ready first,” she muttered, looking away and nudging him aside before turning back toward the mirror.
But Aman wasn’t done teasing her. He wrapped his arms around her again from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“Agar waha koi tumhe dekh ke flat ho gaya…” he said with a small pout. “…to main kya karunga?”
Samaira smirked proudly. “To ho jaane do,” she said confidently. “Sabko pata bhi to lage na ki you’re taken by this hot girl.”
Aman laughed softly. He leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.
“Okay ma’am,” he said with mock obedience. “Come fast. I’ll wait outside.”
With that, he finally let go and walked toward the door. Samaira watched him leave through the mirror, still slightly stunned by his sudden boldness.
________________
The event venue was glowing with warm golden lights, soft music playing in the background while people moved around holding glasses and chatting casually. The entire place had a relaxed corporate vibe nothing too formal, yet elegant enough to feel important.
Aman and Samaira had arrived along with Ankit and Belly, and the moment they stepped inside, Samaira found herself being introduced to one person after another.
Aman’s colleagues looked pleasantly surprised seeing him with her. Some impressed. Some shocked. And some clearly trying to process the fact that the most serious man in the office had a girlfriend.
“I must say man… I thought you’re single,” Samuel said casually while taking a sip from his drink, raising an eyebrow at Aman.
“Me as well… he doesn’t even look at girls in the office,” Derec added, laughing.
Aman simply shook his head with an embarrassed smile while Samaira just sipped her drink proudly.
“I wonder Samaira… how he even managed to pull a baddie like you,” Belly teased dramatically.
Samaira let out a small laugh and shrugged lightly. “Well… it’s his speciality,” she said, glancing at Aman with a teasing smile. “Great looks, zero communication, always serious… that made me fall for him.”
Aman chuckled softly beside her while the group laughed.
The evening went by smoothly. The music inside the lounge had softened into a mellow background hum.
What had started as a lively corporate gathering had now slowly transitioned into that quiet phase where only the stubborn party-lovers remained. The dim golden lights above the bar glowed warmly, casting soft reflections on the polished marble floor. A few waiters moved around collecting empty glasses while scattered groups of colleagues continued chatting lazily.
Samaira sat on one of the lounge couches with Belly and a couple of her friends, absently swirling the straw in her mocktail.
Across the hall, Aman had disappeared nearly an hour ago with his colleagues. Which normally wouldn’t have bothered her.
She checked the time on her phone. Her brows pulled together slightly. It was late. Very late.Most people had already started leaving.
“I think we should also leave now,” she whispered to Belly, leaning slightly closer.
Belly followed her gaze around the room and nodded immediately. “Yeah… before these idiots start another round.”
Samaira sighed softly and picked up her phone. She dialed Aman’s number. The phone rang. Three times.
The call connected.
“Hello Aman?” she said.
Silence. She frowned.
“Hellooo?”
Still nothing. Not even breathing. Samaira slowly pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen suspiciously like it had personally offended her.
“Kya hogaya isse?” she muttered.
“What happened?” Belly asked.
“Don’t know… he’s not saying anything.” Samaira lifted the phone back to her ear cautiously.
“Hello Aman?” she said again.
“HEELLOOOOOOOO JHANSIIII KIIII RANNIIIIIIIII~!!!”
The loudest, most dramatic, most unnecessarily enthusiastic voice blasted through the phone like a war announcement.
Samaira froze. Belly froze. Three people sitting near them turned around. Samaira slowly pulled the phone away from her ear. Her face was blank.
“Hello Aman?” she tried again carefully.
“HAAAA BOLO NAAAA JANEMANNNNN~” Aman sang loudly from the other side.
Samaira blinked. Her brain needed a moment.
“Aise kyun bol rahe ho?… are you drunk?” she looked stunned
“Nahiiii tooooooo,” he sang happily.
Samaira rubbed her forehead.
“Ho kaha pe tum?” she asked, now genuinely worried.
“TUMHAAAAREEEEE DILLLL MAINNNNN… EHEEEEEEEE~”
Samaira stared at the phone like it had betrayed her entire bloodline.
Belly leaned closer. “What did he say?”
Samaira slowly lowered the phone.”I think he’s drunk… and not in his senses.”
Belly sighed. The sigh of someone who had predicted this disaster hours ago.
“I’m damn sure it’s done by Mike.”
“But why?” samaira asked in confusion.
“It’s his habit… he always does this to him. Aman refuses every time. I don’t know what he did today to make him drink.” belly explained.
Belly cracked her knuckles like she was about to start a boxing match. “Come. Let’s find these two disasters.”
Samaira sighed and stood up.
Both girls began walking around the venue, scanning every lounge corner, balcony area, and seating section. The party was almost over now.
Music played quietly. A few couples laughed. A bartender wiped glasses.Everything looked normal.
Except In the far corner of the lounge… Near a couch placed dramatically under a spotlight… They saw them. And immediately wished they hadn’t.
Aman and Ankit were sitting on a couch. Leaning against each other. Like two emotionally shattered poets after a tragic breakup.
Ankit had pulled his coat over his head like a bridal veil.His cheeks were pink. His eyes watery. His expression painfully shy.
“HAYEEE… mujhe sharam aa rahi haiiii…” Ankit whispered shyly, hiding his face.
Aman squinted at him with drunken seriousness. The kind of seriousness only drunk people achieve.
“CHUP… lugai main hoon main teriiii…” he whispered and lightly slapped Ankit’s cheek before rubbing his chest dramatically.
Samaira and Belly stopped walking. They stared at them in horror.
“Haww… meri izzat…” Ankit gasped.
Instead of covering himself He opened two more buttons of his shirt. Like a scandalized heroine in an old Bollywood movie.
Samaira’s brain stopped functioning. Belly’s soul left her body for three seconds. Both girls ran toward them.
“Aman!… kya haal bana liya hai apna?” Samaira said in complete shock.
Aman slowly turned his head toward her. His eyes blinked slowly. Then he frowned slightly.
“Aap kon?” he asked innocently.
Samaira froze. Her eye twitched. “I’m Samaira… mujhe nahi pehchaan rahe ab?”
Aman stared at her again. Processing. Buffering. Loading. Suddenly his face lit up like a festival lantern. Before Samaira could react
He launched himself at her. Like a koala attacking a tree. “PRIYETAMMAAAAA JIIIIIIII~!!!“
Samaira almost lost her balance. “Aman! Aman!”
On the other side, Belly crouched beside Ankit. “Ankit?”
He immediately hugged her tightly. Like a traumatized child. “BELLLLLLLLLLLY… see he’s taking advantage of me…” Ankit cried dramatically while pointing at Aman.
“No baby… he will not. I’m here naa,” Belly said while stroking his hair but giving Samaira a help-me-right-now look.
“LIAARRRRRRR… TU MERI IZZAT LOOT RHA THA!” Aman yelled and crawled toward Ankit while opening his shirt again.
“AMAN STOP!” Samaira grabbed him by the collar.
“See na Kittu ki mammy…” Aman sulked and buried his face into Samaira’s shoulder.
The words “Kittu ki mammy” landed like a bomb. Samaira froze. Her cheeks turned bright red instantly. A shade that could rival a ripe tomato. Her brain short-circuited. Her hands stiffened.
Even Belly paused for half a second.
Aman, however, continued mumbling into her shoulder like an emotional drunk baby. “Kitna jhooth bolta hai ye… kutta kahi ka.”
“TU TINDAAA!” Ankit shouted angrily. “Izzat lootne wala tharkii!“
“Tindaaa??? TINDAAAA???” Aman gasped dramatically. He looked as if someone had stabbed him emotionally.
His voice echoed dramatically across the lounge. He looked heartbroken. Genuinely heartbroken “PRIYETAMA JI… dekho… dekho na… mujhe sabzi bula raha hai…”
Samaira closed her eyes. “Chalo ghar chalte hai,” she sighed.
But Aman suddenly pointed at Ankit like a betrayed husband in a soap opera. “NOOOO… isne mera dil toda hai…”
He sniffed dramatically. “Tu mera pati hai… aur tu mujhe dhoka de raha hai…”
Ankit gasped loudly. Theatrically. “Main tere pati nahi hoon!”
“JHOOTH!” Aman grabbed Ankit’s collar. “Phere liye the humne!“
“WOH NATAK THA!”
“NAHI THA!”
“THA!”
“NAHI THA!”
Both men stared at each other angrily for five full seconds. An intense staring contest. Then suddenly Both burst into tears. Simultaneously. Like synchronized emotional fountains.
Belly rubbed her forehead in frustration.
“Ye dono toh gaye.” Samaira sighed deeply.
“Ankit… stand up.” Belly commanded.
Ankit slowly slid off the couch. Dramatically. And sprawled himself onto the floor. “Main nahi uthunga… meri izzat lut gayi hai…”
On the other side Aman also slowly laid down on the floor Like a fallen warrior. “Main bhi nahi uthunga… mera pati bewafa hai…”
For five seconds Complete silence. Two fully grown men. Lying dramatically on the floor. One covering his face with a coat. The other hugging the carpet. Samaira looked at Belly. Belly looked at Samaira. Both girls had the same expression.Pure exhaustion. Pure disbelief. Pure regret for leaving their homes tonight.
Then both spoke together. “Drag them.”
Five minutes later the situation had somehow managed to become even worse.
Aman was now hanging over Samaira’s shoulder like an overgrown sleepy panda that had completely forgotten how its own legs worked. His entire body weight leaned toward her as if gravity itself had decided she was the only stable object nearby.
His tie was hanging halfway out of his collar, one side longer than the other. His hair which normally stayed annoyingly perfect now looked like a small bird had attempted to build a nest in it.
Meanwhile Ankit was no better. He was half walking and half sliding across the floor while Belly dragged him forward by the arm. His coat was still draped dramatically over his head like a bridal veil and his shirt buttons remained open in a suspiciously theatrical way.
Anyone watching the four of them would immediately assume they had escaped from some chaotic wedding drama.
Aman suddenly lifted his head slowly. His eyes were barely open.
“Priyetama ji…”
“Haan?” Samaira replied automatically while trying to keep him from collapsing.
“I love you.”
For a moment Samaira’s expression softened slightly. Her heart did that tiny annoying flip it always did whenever he said something sweet unexpectedly.
Then Aman proudly added “Lekin shadi ke baad i want a girl….i will name her kikiii….i don’t like chinki.“
There was a two second silence. Then Belly burst out laughing so loudly she nearly dropped Ankit.
Samaira instantly fake laughed. Not because the joke was funny. But because she had suddenly turned bright red out of embarrassment.
Meanwhile Ankit slowly lifted his head and stared at Belly with the seriousness of a man about to propose a life-altering idea.
“Belly…”
“yess?”
“Tu mujhe ghar le ja rahi hai… ya seedha mandap?”
Belly blinked. Her brain paused for a second. “what are you saying?”
“I want to marry you….and have my own cricket team of 11 boys…..and 2 cheerleader girls,” he said sleepishly.
Belly’s ears turned pink instantly. Samaira laughed so hard she almost dropped Aman.
Samaira and Belly stood near the curb trying to balance their completely intoxicated boyfriends who were leaning on them like lifeless sacks of potatoes.
Aman’s arm hung lazily around Samaira’s shoulders. Every few seconds his head dropped onto her shoulder like a heavy bowling ball. His hair was completely messed up.His tie hung loose.His eyes were barely open. If anyone looked at him they would assume he had fought a war.
Ankit wasn’t any better. He was leaning against Belly like a wounded soldier returning from battle. His coat still hung halfway over his head. His shirt buttons remained open. And he looked extremely proud of this terrible life decision.
Both girls looked equally exhausted.
“these two have completely losted,” Belly muttered while adjusting Ankit’s arm around her shoulder.
Ankit suddenly lifted his head weakly. “Belly…”
“hmmm?” she sighed.
“let’s make baby?”
The sentence dropped into the quiet London street like a nuclear bomb. Both Belly and Samaira froze. Completely stunned. Belly slowly closed her eyes. Counted to three.
Then responded with extreme patience. “not now.”
“Achha…” Ankit nodded slowly like he had just processed some deep philosophical wisdom.
Two seconds passed. Then he said “then tomorrow?”
Samaira snorted so loudly beside them she nearly lost her grip on Aman. At the same time Aman mumbled something into her shoulder.
“Mmmmm…” aman hummed.
“Kya?” Samaira asked while trying to keep him steady.
“Priyetama ji…” he continued in sleepy voices.
“Haan?” she answered.
“Ye footpath hil kyun raha hai…”
Samaira stared at the perfectly stable pavement. “Theek se khade raho Aman!”
But Aman had already started sliding downward slowly like melted ice cream. She quickly grabbed his collar and yanked him upright again. “Seedhe khade raho!”
Meanwhile Ankit suddenly raised his hand dramatically toward the sky like a revolutionary leader.
“Belly… i want my own cricket team!” He opened his arms wide as if addressing an invisible crowd.
“what are you doing?” Belly immediately grabbed him and pulled his arm down.
“let get married tonight.” he shouted
Belly stared at him. Long and hard. “we’ll get married just wait a little more.”
Ankit nodded thoughtfully like that answer made perfect sense. Just then Belly’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen.
“Cab is here.”
Right on cue, a black London cab slowly pulled up near the sidewalk. Belly sighed in relief. “Finally.”
She turned toward Samaira. “come with us…or will you wait for your cab?”
Samaira looked at the three-person situation. Then at the cab. Then back at Belly. She shook her head. “I’ll come… you go. there’s not enough space for both of us.”
Belly nodded. “ok fine.”
She somehow managed to drag Ankit toward the cab. Which was already an Olympic-level task. But the moment Aman realized what was happening, something triggered inside his drunken brain.
He looked up. Slowly. Then looked toward Ankit being taken away. His expression changed dramatically. His face slowly crumpled like someone had just broken his heart.
“NAHIIIIIIIIII…”
Samaira blinked. Before she could react Aman suddenly pushed away from her and started running toward the cab. In the most uncoordinated drunk sprint possible.
“MERA PATIIIIII MUJHE CHOD KE JA RAHA HAI!”
Two people standing nearby turned instantly. Someone actually stopped walking. Samaira’s eyes widened.
“AMAN!” She ran after him quickly and grabbed his arm just as he tried chasing the cab.
“Pagal ho gaye ho kya?!” She yanked him back toward her. “Vo Ankit hai!”
But Aman immediately fake cried loudly. He buried his face dramatically into her shoulder again.
“Dekho na priyetama jiii…” He sniffed loudly. “kittu ki mammy ne mujhe daanta…“
Samaira blinked. Her brain paused again. “Kisne?”
“Tumne…” He sniffed again like an extremely sad toddler. “Izzat bhi gayi… pati bhi gaya…”
Samaira looked completely done with life. She opened her mouth to say something Then suddenly Aman stood straight. Completely straight. His expression turned serious. His posture stiffened.
For one hopeful moment Samaira thought he had regained his senses. Then his body started wiggling. Slowly. Suspiciously. Samaira froze.
“…Aman?”
And then He started singing loudly.
“IK NUMBERRRRR…” He shook his waist left and right dramatically.
“TUJII KAMBAL…” His arms went into full heroine mode, wrists twirling in the air.
“MERI CHAAL SHAKY SHAKY…” People around them had started noticing. Two guys near the corner started laughing. Someone lifted their phone. Aman continued dancing with full confidence.
“IK DIMPLEEEE…” He proudly pointed at his own cheek.
“TU HAIN PIMPLEEEE…” He twirled around dramatically.
“MAJIII SHAAM MAGGIE MAGGIEEE…” He spun around like a Bollywood heroine performing the final dance of a movie climax.
Samaira covered her face. “Oh my god…”
Two people nearby actually started clapping. Aman now fully believed he was performing in front of thousands of fans.
He shook his waist again. Did a half spin. And attempted a dramatic hair flip.
Samaira finally snapped.
“AMAN!” Her sharp voice cut through the street like a police siren.
Aman froze instantly mid-dance. His arms still lifted. His body still tilted. Slowly Very slowly He turned toward her.
“…ji?” he said innocently.
“Chup chaap idhar aao.” she commanded angrily.
His shoulders immediately dropped like a scolded child. “…ok.”
He quietly walked toward her. No arguments. No drama. Just silent obedience. She grabbed his wrist firmly.
“Ek shabd bhi nahi.” she scolded him.
He nodded seriously. “Ji.”
Right then their cab arrived.
Samaira opened the door and practically shoved him inside. “Baitho.”
Aman sat Quietly. For exactly five seconds. Then he slowly leaned sideways. His head dropped back onto her shoulder.
“Priyetama ji…”
Samaira sighed deeply. “Ab Kya?”
“Main achha dancer hoon na…” he asked grinningly.
She closed her eyes. The patience of a saint leaving her soul. “…so jao Aman.”
And as if someone had pressed the power button His body relaxed completely. His head became heavy against her shoulder. His breathing slowed.
By the time the cab finally stopped outside Aman’s apartment building, Samaira felt like she had just finished an entire workout session. Supporting a fully grown, completely drunk man was not easy.
The driver helped her get Aman out of the cab, but the moment Aman’s feet touched the ground, he leaned almost entirely onto her again like a sleepy child.
“Aman… seedha chalo,” she muttered under her breath while wrapping his arm over her shoulders and somehow dragging him toward the entrance.
His steps were uneven, slow, and every few seconds he would mumble something incomprehensible.
“Priyetama jiii…”
“Haan… bas chalo.”
They somehow reached the elevator. Samaira pressed the button while trying to keep him upright. Aman had now completely rested his head on her shoulder again, breathing slowly like he was about to fall asleep standing.
When the elevator opened, she practically dragged him inside, pressed the floor button, and leaned him against the wall.
“Kitna pee liya hai tumne…chodungi nahi uss mike ke bacchhe ko” she sighed, rubbing her temple.
Aman just hummed lazily in response.
The elevator doors opened again and she slowly brought him to the apartment door. Thankfully the door was unlocked since Belly had already come earlier with Ankit.
Inside the apartment, the lights in the living room were dim. Belly had clearly managed her own drunk disaster first.
Samaira peeked toward the hallway and saw that Ankit’s bedroom door was slightly closed. It meant Belly had already made him lie down.
“Good…” she whispered to herself.
Now it was her turn. She carefully guided Aman toward his bedroom. “Aman… bas thoda aur…”
He mumbled something again but continued walking. When they finally reached the bed, Samaira gently pushed him to sit down.
He immediately collapsed backward onto the mattress, arms spread out, tie crooked, hair a complete mess.
Within seconds his breathing became slower again. Completely knocked out.
Samaira let out a long breath of relief. “Finally…”
She bent down and removed his shoes one by one, placing them neatly beside the bed. Then she loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt so he could breathe comfortably.
After pulling the blanket halfway over him, she finally straightened up. For a moment the room became quiet. Only the soft sound of his breathing filled the space.
Samaira stood there beside the bed… just looking at him.
Aman always carried such a serious, composed expression in front of everyone. Calm. Responsible. Reserved. The kind of man who rarely let his guard down.
But right now… He looked completely different. His hair was messy, his lips slightly parted, his face relaxed in sleep. Without that usual stern expression, he looked almost boyishly cute.
A small smile formed on Samaira’s lips.
“why do you always be this much serious all the time?.” she whispered softly.
She slowly sat on the edge of the bed beside him. Her fingers instinctively brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead.
He didn’t move. Still deeply asleep. Her gaze softened. For a moment she simply admired him… the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the calmness on his face.
Then something warm stirred in her chest. Without thinking too much, she leaned down slightly. Her lips touched his very lightly. Just a soft, affectionate peck.
But the moment she pulled back Aman’s eyes slowly opened. Samaira froze. For a moment she thought he might still be half asleep.
But his eyes were looking at her. And something in them immediately made her heart drop. They weren’t teasing. They looked… broken.
His gaze lingered on her face as if he was trying to make sure she was really there. Then slowly, a tear escaped the corner of his eye, sliding down toward his temple.
Samaira’s smile faded instantly. “Aman…?”
His fingers moved weakly, searching until they found her wrist. He held it loosely.
“don’t go…” he whispered hoarsely. His voice sounded completely different now. Fragile. Small. “Please…don’t leave…” Samaira’s heart clenched painfully.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly, but he shook his head weakly.
“Sab chale jaate hain…” he murmured, another tear slipping down his face. His eyes glistened under the dim light. “Jaise… mummy papa chale gaye…”
Samaira felt her chest tighten. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Mujhe… mujhe akela mat chhodna… please….i’m scared”
The way he said it… like a frightened child rather than the strong man everyone saw… shattered something inside her.
“I won’t,” she said immediately, her voice soft but firm. But Aman wasn’t listening fully anymore. The alcohol had broken every wall he usually kept around himself. His breathing grew uneven.
“I… I didn’t mean it…” he whispered helplessly. Tears began sliding down the sides of his face now. “I just wanted… to celebrate my birthday…”
Samaira slowly sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. Aman turned toward her instantly, almost instinctively, like he needed somewhere safe.
Before she could say anything He buried his face into her lap. His arms wrapped loosely around her waist as if clinging to the only anchor he had left. His shoulders began shaking.
“I told them to come home fast…” he choked out between breaths. His voice broke. “I just wanted them there… bas… birthday tha mera…”
Samaira’s throat tightened painfully as she began gently running her fingers through his hair. Comforting. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered softly.
But Aman shook his head weakly against her lap. “Sab bolte hain meri wajah se hua…” he cried quietly. His fingers tightened slightly against her dress.
“They say… agar main call nahi karta… agar main insist nahi karta… to woh jaldi drive nahi karte…” Another broken breath escaped him. “Unka accident… meri wajah se hua…”
Samaira’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “No,” she said firmly, her fingers continuing to stroke his hair. “No Aman. Bilkul nahi.”
But he continued mumbling through his tears. “I didn’t want them to die…” he whispered helplessly. “I just wanted… my birthday with them…”
His voice cracked completely. “I miss them…”
Samaira’s heart broke hearing that. She bent slightly and rested her hand more firmly over his head, gently caressing his hair again and again.
“It was an accident.,” she murmured softly.
Her fingers moved slowly, soothingly through his hair. “You didn’t cause it, It wasn’t your fault.”
His breathing was uneven now, his crying quieter but still painful. Another tear slipped down Aman’s face, soaking into the fabric of her dress.
Samaira kept stroking his hair patiently. “No one gets to blame you for that,” she whispered.
His grip on her waist loosened slowly. The alcohol and exhaustion were finally pulling him down again. His breathing became heavier.
But one last broken whisper escaped him. “Don’t leave me too…i’m scared alone”
Samaira felt her eyes burn. “I’m right here,” she said softly.
Her hand continued moving through his hair… slow, comforting strokes. Within a few minutes…His crying quieted. His grip relaxed completely. And slowly Aman passed out again, his face still resting in her lap, lashes damp with the tears he had cried.
Samaira didn’t move. She just sat there quietly… gently caressing his hair. Protecting him from the ghosts that still haunted him.
_________________
The school canteen was buzzing with the usual lunch-break chaos. The clatter of steel lunchboxes, the smell of hot samosas and bread pakoras from the counter, and dozens of overlapping conversations filled the air. Students crowded around tables, some sharing food, some laughing loudly, some rushing to finish lunch before the bell rang again.
But at one corner table the one that had always been the loudest, the most chaotic things felt strangely quiet.
This table used to be a battlefield of food stealing, teasing, shouting, and endless laughter. Now, plates and lunchboxes were open, but the energy was missing. Everyone sat there silently eating.
Vivaan poked his spoon into his lunchbox half-heartedly, his shoulders slumped dramatically. He looked around the canteen with exaggerated sadness and suddenly sniffed loudly like he was about to cry.
“yrrrrr…..kitna suna suna sa lag rha hai school,” Vivaan fake cried, placing the back of his hand dramatically over his forehead like some tragic hero.
Priya, who was sitting beside him with her tiffin open in front of her, immediately joined his act. She sighed deeply and nodded in agreement while stirring her food slowly.
“haina….achha nahi lag rha,” Priya said, her voice equally dramatic as she glanced around the canteen where everyone else seemed to be having fun.
Across the table, Aditi took a small bite of her roti and chewed thoughtfully before speaking. Her tone was calmer, but the hint of emptiness in her voice was clear.
“kya kar skate hai ab….time kisi ke liye rukta thodi hai,” Aditi said quietly, shrugging a little as if trying to accept the reality of things.
Vivaan suddenly leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms like an abandoned lover.
“meri darling bhi school main nhi hai samosa churane ke liye mera,” Vivaan complained dramatically.
The moment he said that, Shagun who was sitting opposite him burst into a soft chuckle. She knew exactly who he was talking about.
Riva, who had been quietly eating until now, immediately pointed her spoon toward Shagun with a teasing grin.
“inka sahi hai….shaam ko ja ja ke ruhaan bhaiya ke sath mast time spend karti hai,” Riva said, raising her eyebrows playfully.
Shagun instantly leaned back in her chair with a smug expression, proudly flipping her hair back as if she had just been awarded something.
The proud grin on her face made the others roll their eyes. Priya let out a tired sigh and rested her chin on her palm.
“iska hi sahi hai….ab to ghar main bhi maza nahi ata,” Priya said softly, poking at her food with her spoon.
Aditi nodded slowly in agreement. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she spoke.
“hmm….main to poori akeli hi hu ghar main….didi ludhiyana main hai aur bhaiya banglore main poora dinn ghar main pade rho bss,” Aditi sulked, her voice carrying a quiet loneliness.
Vivaan instantly nodded vigorously like he completely understood her pain.
“hmm….anah bhaiya bhi chale gaye ab to vrna unhi ko chidha lete the ham dono to,” Vivaan said with a sad pout.
For a moment the table fell silent again. They all missed him. Missed the arguments. Missed the scoldings. Riva then looked toward Aditi curiously.
“samaira didi to agle saal wapas aa jayengi na didi, apna course complete kar ke?” Riva asked hopefully.
Aditi looked up and nodded slowly. She didn’t say anything else, but the small nod carried a quiet reassurance.
Trying to break the slightly emotional atmosphere, Shagun suddenly clapped her hands lightly and leaned forward with a bright smile.
“are koi na guyss…..sab badhiya ho jayega thode saalo main chill,” Shagun said cheerfully, attempting to lighten the mood.
But Aditi immediately reached across the table and shoved her lightly on the shoulder.
“ha tu to bolegi hi…bhaiya yhi hai na tere paas….hamare baare main soch zara,” Aditi said with a playful glare.
Shagun burst out laughing and quickly held Aditi’s arm dramatically.
“areee….koi nhi na babu….main ansh bhaiya ko bol dungi vo tujhe dherrrr saari pappiyaan de ke jayenge jab wapas ayenge chuttiyon main,” Shagun teased mischievously.
The moment she said that, Aditi rolled her eyes so hard it made everyone laugh. But before Aditi could say anything back, Riva suddenly leaned toward Priya with sparkling eyes.
“prateek bhaiya ko main boldungi…theek didi,” Riva said innocently.
Priya blinked in confusion. “Ky—”
But before she could finish, Vivaan suddenly slammed his hand dramatically on the table and exposed the biggest secret with full confidence.
“unko bolne ki jaroorat nhi hai….vo vaise bhi isko chummiyon se bhar ke rakhte hain,” Vivaan revealed casually.
For two seconds Complete silence fell over the table. Everyone froze. Aditi’s mouth fell open. Riva’s eyes widened. Shagun nearly choked on her drink. All three of them slowly turned their heads toward Priya.
Priya on the other hand had gone completely still. Her ears turned bright red. Her gaze instantly dropped to her lunchbox as she tried to hide her face behind her hair.
And the blush spreading across her cheeks confirmed everything. The table erupted into chaos the next second.
_________________
Night had settled quietly over the city. The streets outside were calmer now, the usual daytime noise replaced by the distant hum of occasional vehicles and the soft rustling of the night breeze. Inside her room, Priya sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop placed in front of her and her phone propped up against a pillow.
The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face. On the other side of the screen was Prateek.
His hair looked slightly messy, sleeves rolled up, and his table behind him was filled with papers, sketches, wires, and scattered stationery clear evidence that he had been working for hours.
Priya rested her chin on her palm, watching him with amused eyes.
“Okay okay wait… ab dikhata hoon properly,” Prateek said excitedly as he adjusted the camera angle of his phone.
The screen shifted slightly before focusing on a small model placed on his study table. Priya leaned forward immediately.
“Yeh raha mera first project,” he said with a proud grin.
The project was a carefully made architectural model a miniature structure built from cardboard sheets, foam board, and thin wooden sticks. The building had neat edges, tiny windows cut with precision, and even a small pathway leading to the entrance.
Priya’s eyes widened. “Wait… aapne yeh khud banaya?”
Prateek puffed his chest proudly. “Haan, Poore three days lage hain.”
He turned the camera slowly around the model so she could see every angle. Priya studied it carefully. The roof design. The window placements. The clean finish.
Her expression slowly shifted from curiosity to genuine admiration. “Prateek… this is actually really good.” He grinned wider.
“Actually?” he teased her.
“Haan actually.” she said
She laughed softly. “Main jhooth bolungi kya?”
He leaned closer to the screen like a kid seeking approval. “Kaisa lag raha hai honestly batao ?”
Priya tilted her head thoughtfully. “Concept achha hai… structure clean hai… finishing bhi kaafi achhi hai.”
Prateek nodded proudly. “Of course. hogi hi maine jo banaya hai”
Then Priya narrowed her eyes slightly, studying the model more carefully. “Par ek cheez missing hai.”
Prateek blinked. “Kya?”
“aapka mark.” she said
He looked confused instantly. “Mera mark?”
“Haan.” she nodded. She gestured toward the model on screen.
“Apne itna time lagaya… itni mehnat se banaya… par usme aapki identity kahaan hai?”
Prateek scratched the back of his neck. “Matlab?”
Priya picked up her tablet from the side. “Matlab… ek small signature element. Something that tells people that this is your design.”
Prateek looked intrigued now. “Jaise?”
Priya quickly opened her digital drawing app. “Wait.”
Her fingers began moving swiftly over the screen with the stylus.
Prateek watched curiously through the video call. “Ab kya bana rahi ho?”
“Shhh.”
Within a minute she finished the sketch. Then she sent the image to him. His phone pinged. Prateek opened it immediately. And froze. On the screen was a small minimalistic logo.
A clean circular emblem with subtle architectural lines forming the letter P in a stylish geometric pattern. The design was simple but elegant the kind that looked professional and personal at the same time.
For a few seconds he just stared at it.
“Priya…” His eyebrows shot up. “Yeh tumne abhi banaya?”
“Haan.” She shrugged casually. “Quick sketch hai bas.”
Prateek zoomed in on the logo again. The symmetry. The lines. The design balance. He looked genuinely impressed. “Priya this is actually insane.”
She laughed. “Overreact mat karo.”
“Nahi seriously.” He lifted his phone toward the project model. “Yeh agar main base pe engrave kar du ya print kar ke chipka du… it’ll look like an official design studio project.”
Priya smiled softly. “Exactly.”
Prateek shook his head in amazement. “Tumhe pata bhi hai tum kitni talented ho?”
She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Of course pata hai.”
He laughed. “Attitude dekho madam ka.”
But then his expression slowly turned serious. He leaned forward slightly. “Priya.”
“Haan?” she responded.
“Tumne kabhi designing field ke baare mein seriously socha hai?” he asked.
She blinked. “Designing?”
“Haan.” He held his phone up showing the logo again. “Look at this.”
She shrugged again. “Bas doodle hai.”
“Doodle nahi hai.” His voice was firm now. “Tum draw karti ho. Paint karti ho. Sketch karti ho.” Priya looked down slightly. “And now you’re even doing digital art this well.”
She tapped the edge of her tablet thoughtfully. Prateek continued. “Why not try designing as a career?”
Priya immediately shook her head. “Nahi… I don’t think so.”
“Kyun?” he questioned
She sighed softly. “I mean… drawing hobby hai. Career thodi hai.”
Prateek frowned. “Kisne bola?”
Priya shrugged. “Bas… pata nahi.”
He leaned closer to the camera. “Priya listen.” His tone softened but remained serious. “Multinational companies hire digital artists and designers.” She looked up at him again. “Game studios. Animation companies. Advertising firms. Branding agencies.”
He counted on his fingers. “UX design. Graphic design. Product design.” Priya’s expression slowly shifted from dismissive to thoughtful.
Prateek continued gently. “Tum already half skills rakhti ho.” She looked down at her tablet screen again where the logo was still open. “Bas thoda professional direction chahiye.”
For a few seconds she didn’t say anything. Her mind quietly replayed the things she had always loved doing Sketching in her notebooks. Painting late at night. Doodling random designs during lectures. And now digital art.
She tapped the stylus against the screen slowly. Prateek watched her quietly.
Then she finally spoke. “I don’t know…”
He smiled softly. “Try karne mein kya jaata hai?”
She looked back at him. “Achha theek hai i’ll see”
He nodded approvingly. “Bas wahi chahiye tha.”
She laughed lightly. “You’re very convincing you know.”
“Obviously.” He grinned proudly. “Main hoon hi smart.”
Priya rolled her eyes. “Overconfidence ka walking example.”
Prateek pointed at the model again. “Waise thanks for the logo idea.”
She smiled warmly. “Welcome.”
He carefully placed his phone down and held the model again. “Ab yeh project officially Prateek brand ka ho gaya.” Priya laughed softly, shaking her head as the two continued talking late into the night
___________________
The evening bugle had just faded across the vast grounds of the National Defence Academy. Its lingering echo drifted over the parade square, where the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in deep shades of orange and gold. The day’s drills had ended, but the atmosphere of discipline still hung in the air boots clicking against stone corridors, distant commands fading somewhere near the training fields.
Inside the administrative corridor of the cadets’ barracks, a small line of first-term cadets stood waiting near a wooden table where an old black landline phone was placed. It looked almost out of place in the modern world, yet for these young men it was the only thread connecting them to the lives they had left behind.
A duty officer sat beside the table with a register open in front of him, checking names and approving calls one by one. Every cadet who stepped forward did so with the same mix of eagerness and restraint, their excitement carefully hidden beneath disciplined posture.
When his turn came
“Cadet Ansh Singhaniya.” the officer announced. Ansh instantly straightened.
His shoulders squared, chin lifted slightly. “Yes, sir.”
“You have five minutes.” the officer informed.
“Yes, sir.”
The officer gestured toward the black landline phone placed on the desk. For a brief moment… Ansh simply looked at it.
It had only been a few weeks since he had stepped inside the gates of the academy, but those weeks had stretched long and heavy. The routine of the academy early morning runs before sunrise, relentless drills, strict discipline, punishments for the smallest mistakes had consumed every hour of his day. Time inside NDA moved differently. Days were exhausting, nights were short, and personal moments like this were rare.
Slowly, he stepped forward. The receiver felt strangely heavy in his hand as he lifted it. He dialed the number he knew by heart Home.
The phone rang three times. Then suddenly
“HELLO?!” It was Priya.
The energy in her voice burst through the receiver so loudly that Ansh couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face.
“Priya.” he said.
There were two seconds of stunned silence. And then…
“ANSH BHAIYA?!” Her scream exploded through the phone. “MUMMY!!! BHAIYA KA PHONE HAI!!”
Immediately chaos erupted in the background of the house. Footsteps rushing across the floor. Someone shouting from another room. Something metallic falling and clattering loudly. Ansh leaned back slightly against the corridor wall near the table, shaking his head with a soft, helpless laugh.
Nothing had changed at home. Then another voice came rushing closer to the phone.
“Phone mujhe de! Mujhe de!” Vivaan jumped in. “Bhaiya!!!”
“haa chuhe…kaisa hai?.”
“OH MY GOD BHAIYA! APNE CALL KIYA! KAISE HO?! NDA KAISA HAI?! KYA KARWATE HAIN WAHAN?!” His questions fired at him one after another without pause.
Ansh chuckled softly. “Breathe first.”
“NAHI PEHLE AAP BATAO!” Before he could even answer…
“chuhe phone de mujhe!”
The phone shuffled between hands again. And then came the voice that made Ansh’s chest tighten instantly.
“Kaisa hai beta tu…?” Kiran’s voice came. Her voice was already trembling.
“Maa.” he wisperred
The moment she heard that one word Her voice broke completely. “Ansh…”
For a moment she couldn’t speak at all. “Tu theek hai na beta…?”
Ansh swallowed slowly. Hearing her voice after weeks… after waking up every day to whistles, orders, and harsh commands… Something inside him softened.
“Haan maa… main theek hoon.” he said.
“Khane ka dhyaan rakhta hai na? Wahan thand toh nahi lag rahi? Thak jaata hoga na itna sab karte hue…” Her questions poured out rapidly, like she had been saving them for days.
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head lightly against the wall. “Maa… main bilkul theek hoon yaha. aap tension mat lo”
“Sach bol raha hai na tu?” she asked again.
“Haan maa.” he mentioned
Behind her he heard another familiar voice. “mujhe bhi phone do bhaii” rajveer said.
The phone changed hands again. “Hello.”
“Papa.” he said
Rajveer’s voice was calm, controlled, steady as always but beneath that calm there was something else, Pride.
“How is the academy beta?” Even though his father couldn’t see him, Ansh instinctively straightened his back.
“Demanding hai thodi … but all good papa.” he said
Rajveer let out a small chuckle. “Good.”
There was a small pause. Then he said quietly “Proud of you beta.”
The words were simple. But they carried a weight that hit Ansh deeper than he expected. His grip on the receiver tightened slightly. “Thank you, papa.”
Another voice suddenly burst in enthusiastically. “Arre bhaiya mujhe bhi baat karne dijiye!”Sanjay said.
The phone shifted again. “Ansh beta! training sahi chal rhi hai teri?”
Ansh laughed quietly. “Abhi training shuru hui hai chacha ji.”
“Haan haan theek hai theek hai par yaad rakhio vo log tujhe mere jaisa dhobhi pachaad nahi sikha payenge dekh lena haan.”
In the background Kirti chachi’s voice immediately followed. “Phone mujhe bhi do zara!” She took the phone next. “Ansh tujhe waha pe koi dikkat to nhi hoti na…proper tasty khana milta hai ki nahi?.”
“Ji chachiji sab milta hai achha….khana bhi tasty hota hai.” Even as he said it, he remembered the academy mess food bland, rushed, eaten in strict silence.
But hearing her concern made him smile anyway. Then suddenly two loud voices shouted together behind her… “PHONE IDHAR DIJIYE AB!”
Within seconds the receiver was back in the hands of the most chaotic pair in the house. Priya and Vivaan.
“Bhaiya bhaiya bhaiya NDA mein punishments milti hain kya?”
“Bhai kya aap log asli wali gun chalate ho?”
“Bhaiya subah kitne baje uthte ho?”
“Bhai push-ups kitne karte ho?”
The questions attacked him like rapid fire. Ansh laughed quietly.
“Tum dono bilkul nahi sudhre.”
“Obviously nahi sudhrenge!” Vivaan chimmed proudly.
Then Priya’s voice softened a little. “Bhaiya… ghar bohot shant ho gaya hai.”
For a moment Ansh fell silent. The noise of the corridor faded around him.
“I know.”
There was a small pause. Then he asked gently “Priya…”
“Haan bhaiya?”
“How’s everyone in school?” he asked.
“Sab theek hain.” she mentioned.
He hesitated slightly then finally asked “…Aditi kaisi hai?”
Immediately there was a reaction on the other side.
“OHHH!” Vivaan’s dramatic voice.
“chuhe chup!” Priya pushed him away from the phone. Then she spoke softly. “Woh theek hai bhaiya”
Ansh’s gaze lowered slightly to the floor. Priya continued with a small teasing smile in her voice. “Actually… she must be waiting.”
His grip on the receiver tightened just a little. “Waiting?”
Priya’s smile widened. “Haan. Maine usse bata diya tha ki aaj aapka call aa sakta hai.”
For a moment Ansh didn’t say anything. But inside his chest something warm spread quietly.
Priya added softly “Aap usse call kar lena.”
Vivaan instantly jumped back into the conversation. “Haan bhaiya warna woh humein maar degi!”
“VIVAAN!” Ansh shook his head with a quiet laugh. “Pagal ho tum dono.”
Priya spoke quickly before the call could end. “Bhaiya jaldi call karna phir!”
Vivaan shouted excitedly “AND NEXT TIME DETAILS CHAHIYE NDA KI!”
Ansh smiled faintly. “Okay.”
Then he said softly”Miss you all.”
On the other side of the line, the house suddenly went quiet. For a brief moment everyone was silent. Then together they said “We miss you too bhaiya.”
Ansh took a slow breath. “Bye.”
And gently placed the receiver back on the cradle For a few seconds after placing the receiver down, Ansh didn’t move.
Almost as if he was still hearing the voices from the call. His fingers slowly curled around the edge of the table before he looked down at his wrist.
A thin black thread was tied around it. Simple. Slightly worn now. The thread Aditi had tied around his wrist before he left.
His thumb gently brushed over it. For a brief moment his chest tightened. The officer sitting at the table noticed he hadn’t walked away yet. He looked up from the register and spoke in a calm tone. “you still have 2 minutes….if you want you can use them or just let others use the call.”
Ansh blinked once and nodded immediately. “Yes sir.”
He turned back toward the phone. For a moment he just stared at it again. Then slowly lifted the receiver. His fingers dialed the number he had memorized days before leaving home.
Each number pressed carefully. Almost hesitantly. He lifted the receiver to his ear and waited. The phone rang.
Meanwhile in Delhi, Aditi was sitting at her study table in her room. Books were spread across the table, a notebook open in front of her, and a pen resting between her fingers as she tried to solve a chemistry problem.
Her brows were slightly furrowed in concentration. The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Then suddenly, Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number. She frowned slightly but picked it up anyway.
“hello?” Her voice was soft but slightly confused.
On the other side of the line Ansh froze. The moment her voice reached his ears, something inside him shifted. Weeks of exhausting drills. Sleepless nights. Strict commands and endless discipline.
All of it seemed to pause for a moment. Hearing her voice after weeks felt strangely grounding. Like he could breathe properly again. On the other side Aditi spoke again.
“hello?” Her tone carried a hint of confusion now.
Ansh inhaled lightly. Then finally spoke in a low voice.
“hello isha” His voice was almost reverent. Soft. Careful.
The moment she heard that word Aditi’s entire expression changed. Her back straightened in the chair instantly.
“ansh aap?” Her voice softened immediately, disbelief and happiness mixing together.
Ansh felt a faint smile appear on his lips. “Haan…kaisi ho?” He asked softly. His voice carried the tired calm that had become part of him after joining NDA. But hearing her again made it warmer.
Aditi immediately began speaking, her questions tumbling out one after another without pause. “main theek hoon….aap kaise hain?…nda kaisa hai?….vo log apse jyada kaam to nhi karvate na?”
Her words carried genuine worry. The kind that only someone who truly cared would have. Ansh couldn’t help it. A small chuckle escaped him. The sound was soft, tired, but genuine.
“main bhi theek hoon” He replied calmly. He leaned slightly against the wall near the phone table, lowering his gaze to the floor.
For a moment there was silence. Then Aditi spoke again. Her voice softer now. “Aapki boht yaad aati hai mujhe….aap wapas kab ayenge?” There was a faint sulk in her tone.
The kind she only showed to him. Ansh exhaled quietly.
“term breaks main chutti milegi to wapas aunga….abhi to nhi aa paunga” He whispered. His voice was low, almost apologetic. Aditi nodded slowly even though he couldn’t see her.
“achhaa theek hai i’ll wait…..aur aap call kab kab karenge mujhe bata dijiye phir main ussi time phone leker wait karungi apke call ka” Her words came out with quiet determination. Like she didn’t want to miss even a single chance to hear his voice.
Ansh’s fingers tightened slightly around the receiver. “most probably sundays ko in evenings” He replied.
“theek hai” She said softly.
There was a small silence between them. Neither of them spoke. Yet neither of them wanted the call to end. Ansh looked down at the black thread tied on his wrist again.
Then he spoke quietly. “meri isha ka khyaal rakh rhi ho na tum?” His tone was gentle. Almost protective.
Aditi smiled faintly on the other side of the call. She lowered her gaze to the bracelet on her wrist given by him. Her voice trembled slightly when she answered. “hmmm…aapki isha ka boht achhe se khyaal rakhti hoon…par usse apki boht yaad ati hai” The vulnerability in her voice was unmistakable.
Ansh closed his eyes briefly. “Mujhe bhi boht yaad ati hai” He whispered.
Just then The officer lightly tapped his watch. A silent reminder that time was over. Ansh nodded slightly.
Then spoke quickly. “achha i’ve to go now…time poora hogya…i’ll write you letter tum ruhaan se le lena” His words came out hurriedly. Trying to say everything before the call had to end.
Aditi nodded quickly. “theek hai…main le lungi….aap jaiye….take care….i love you” Her voice grounded him. Soft. Steady. Warm. Ansh smiled faintly.
“i love you more….byeee” He said quietly. Then the line disconnected.
For a few seconds Aditi just stared at her phone. The screen slowly faded. And then a wide smile appeared on her face. She lifted the phone and pressed a small kiss to it happily before placing it on the table again.
Meanwhile Ansh stepped out of the administrative office corridor. The evening air outside felt cooler. But his expression was different now. A quiet smile rested on his face. A rare sight in the last few weeks.
As soon as he stepped onto the path toward the barracks, two familiar figures noticed him. Shivam and Arjun. They had been leaning casually near the railing waiting for him.
The moment Shivam saw his expression, he nudged him with his elbow. “kya hua bhai….ghar baat kar ke chehra khill utha tera” Ansh let out a small chuckle.
Arjun crossed his arms thoughtfully. “pakka iske bhai behen ne iski tang kheechi hogi”
Ansh shook his head lightly. “nhii bss aise hi”He whispered.
But Shivam immediately narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Then he leaned closer with a teasing grin. “kahi iski vo to nhiii?”
His eyebrows lifted dramatically. Ansh’s ears turned red instantly. Arjun scoffed loudly. “pagal hai…iski kaha se hogi”
He said with full confidence. Shivam frowned. “kyu nhi ho skti?”
Arjun pointed directly at Ansh. “harkatein dekh iski….itna nonchalant hai…ye kaha kisi ladhki ko approch kar payega?”
Ansh shook his head with a helpless smile. Without replying he simply began walking ahead toward the barracks.
But Shivam wasn’t going to leave the mystery unsolved.
“Aeeee ansh bata na bhaii!” He shouted dramatically while running behind him.
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HOW WAS THE CHAPTER?!
Also koi ye nhi bolega ki ansh ne Ruhaan and Prateek ko call kyu nhi kiya….samjho yrr…tune kam tha and Aditi se bhi baat karni thi….next time kar lega vo pakka.😩
IMPORTANT NOTE – PLEASE READ
Lately it has been getting REALLY HARD for me to keep updating this story again and again without even reaching the target. Honestly, it’s slowly eating away my motivation.
I see stories here with barely any plots but full of smut getting thousands of votes, reads and followers… and it makes me start comparing THT with them.
I KNOW comparing is not right, but when you put your heart into writing and still don’t see the response you hoped for… it hurts.
Sometimes I start wondering… Is the storyline boring? Is it too common? Or am I just not good enough as a writer?
And that thought is honestly VERY DEMOTIVATING.
This chapter is probably the LAST PIECE OF COURAGE I had left to update here.
Because the truth is… MOST OF YOU DON’T EVEN COMMENT… DON’T VOTE… DON’T EVEN CONSIDER FOLLOWING.
You asked for spoilers on YouTube… I even made that effort too. But even there YOU DON’T SUBSCRIBE.
THAT HONESTY FEEL REALLY UNFAIR.
I also have EXAMS coming up, my health is not well, and still I write chapters each containing fvcking 12K+ WORDSSS! while compromising my classes, my health and my time… because I think maybe this time aaplog engage karoge… maybe you will vote… maybe you will comment.
But what happens instead?
You read the chapter… And then just DISAPPEAR.
it’s literally more than 1.3K reads on previous chapter but the votes?…
THEY BARELY CROSSED 200!!!
IS THIS WHAT THIS STORY DESERVE?!!
IS THIS WHAT I DESERVE?!!
I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but I’m honestly very disappointed.
So this is my final decision:
IF THE TARGET IS NOT COMPLETED… I WILL NOT UPDATE THE NEXT CHAPTER.
It’s FINAL now.
Voting, commenting or following costs you NOTHING!!!….But your silence is costing me something very big….
MY MOTIVATION TO WRITE AND COMPLETE THIS STORY.
I hope you understand.
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