Shreya

5 Day later in Bangalore

"The food's absolutely tasteless. God knows where they found this caterer," Appa muttered, wiping his hands on a napkin with exaggerated disapproval.

He was making his way toward me and Amma, still grumbling under his breath like a food critic who had been personally offended. I smiled, half amused, half exasperated.

"Appa, aap bhi na..." I whispered quickly, trying to keep my voice light. "If someone hears you, what will they think?"

He ignored my protest and sat down with a huff. I gently offered him my chair, earning a grumble of reluctant appreciation.

"Main Maya se milke aati hoon," I said to Amma before slipping away from the chaos of relatives, music, and clinking crockery.
(I'll go meet Maya)

The bride's room was quieter-a world apart. As I stepped in, the scent of jasmine and foundation greeted me before Maya's voice did.

"Kaisi lag rahi hoon, Shreyu?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement, cheeks glowing, lips still half-painted.
(how am I looking, shreyu)

I looked at her. Really looked.
The beautiful white saree, the trembling bangles, the slightly nervous smile sitting beneath her confident eyes.

I gave her a small, crooked smile. "Katilana lag rahi ho," I said lightly.
(You are looking killer.)

But Maya caught it.
The hesitation.
The dip in my voice.
The way my smile didn't quite reach my eyes.

Her own smile faltered. "Aise kyun bol rahi hai... thoda achhe se bol yaar. Meri shaadi hai aaj."
(Why are you talking like this... Speak nicely. It is my wedding today.)

I paused-because she was right. Today wasn't about me.

It wasn't about the quiet ache sitting in the corner of my chest.
It was her day. Her beginning.

So I let go of whatever held me back and pulled a big, dramatic grin across my face. Walked right up to her, held her shoulders, and said with full conviction:

"Katilana lag rahi hai, Maya!"
Then louder: "Maar dalegi Rishabh ko aaj, sach mein!"
(You are looking killer, Maya! You will kill Rishabh today, for sure)

She burst into laughter-pure, unfiltered, contagious. The kind that fills a room and squeezes your heart.
And just like that... for a moment, everything felt lighter.

∆∆°•°∆∆

In the middle of this dazzling, well-decorated wedding chaos, where everyone was dressed to perfection and joy floated in the air like the scent of marigolds and perfume-I wasn't thinking about the bride, or the ceremony, or the music.
I was thinking about him.
Jayant.

I don't even know why.

He had said the words I had waited so long to hear. "I love you, Shreya."
So why couldn't I say it back when I had the chance?

Why did my throat close up the moment my heart should've spoken?

But I shook the thought away. No, not today. Today is Maya's day. Focus, Shreya. Don't mess this up for her.

Just as I gathered myself, I felt something slip-my earring.

"Oh great," I muttered, bending down to retrieve it. I tried to fix it back in place, struggling with the clasp.

Annoyed and slightly flustered, I hurried to Amma. "Amma, help me please," I said, offering the jhumka to her.

She had barely started adjusting it when she paused mid-action, eyes narrowing at someone in the distance.
"Yeh ladka yahan kya kar raha hai?" she muttered suspiciously.

"Kaun ladka?" I asked, turning my head in the direction she was looking.

And then I saw him.

Jayant.

Dressed in a crisp white kurta, smiling like the world had never hurt him, walking like he belonged everywhere-even here. I forgot to breathe.

"Jamai babu toh aaye nahi, unka dost kya kar raha hai yahaan?" Amma continued, now clearly agitated. "Main poochti hoon kya kaam hai iska yahan!"
(Son in law has not come, what is his friend doing here? I am asking what work he is doing here)

Before she could storm off, I quickly held her arm. "Amma, shant ho jao... please, let me talk to him," I said, guiding her to sit back down.

But even as I calmed her, a storm had already started inside me.
What was he doing here?

I stood in front of him, blocking his path.

"You know, no one invited you," I said, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. "Or do you just invite yourself to everything nowadays?"

He chuckled, completely unfazed. "Shreya, relax. Rishabh invited me."

That smug tone. That smirk.
God, I wanted to smack it off his face.

"Rishabh? Why would he invite you?" I snapped. "Let me guess-you became friends with him just to sneak into my life again?"

"Not really," he said, still smiling. "He became friends with me for maya. You can ask him if you don't believe me."

I didn't respond.
Because I did believe him.
And because somewhere deep down, I didn't want to admit how happy-even relieved-I felt seeing him here.

He leaned in just a little, his voice softer now. "By the way, you look beautiful. This lehenga... white and yellow suits you."

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "Jayant, tumhe to main-"

He interrupted, leaning in slightly with that maddeningly calm voice, "Mujhe kya, Shreya? You missed me, didn't you?" He paused, just enough to catch my flickering expression. "I know... I missed you too."

I stood frozen.
Of course I had missed him.
Every stupid second of every stupid day.

And just as I felt myself starting to falter again, I saw Appa walking toward us from the corner of my eye.

Panic rose. I couldn't afford questions-not now.

So I turned and rushed away, slipping between the guests before anyone else could see my heart unraveling all over again.

∆∆°•°∆∆

I didn’t knock. I barged straight into the groom’s changing room, heart racing, words firing before thought could stop them.

“Rishabh! Did you invite Jayant?”

He practically jumped, scrambling to grab his kurta and cover his half-bare chest. “Have you gone mad, Shreya? At least knock!”

I turned away quickly, facing the wall. “Sorry! But just answer me.”

There was a pause. A heavy one.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I did invite him. Why?”

I turned back slowly, narrowing my eyes. “Why would you do that, Rishabh?”

He raised an eyebrow, still catching his breath. “Because he helped Maya get rid of her guilt. Because he brought you back into her life. we’re getting married today… because of him.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t defensive. Just… calm. Honest.

And suddenly, I remembered it all.

How Jayant had quietly pushed Maya and me toward each other.
He hadn’t just mended my bond with Maya—he’d given her the strength to stop blaming herself for everything that had gone wrong between us. He never took credit for that.

And somehow, I was here today... not just as Maya’s childhood friend, but her chosen sister. Because he made that possible.

I stood still, stunned into silence. No more arguments, no comebacks. Only a quiet ache in my chest.

“I... I know,” I whispered.

Rishabh gave me a look that was half amusement, half understanding. “You should know.”

I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, letting the door click shut behind me—leaving behind my pride, my assumptions... and the sharp realization that Jayant hadn’t shown up to ruin anything.  He has come for what he has done right.

I was lost in my thoughts—entangled in the quiet realization of everything Jayant had done, everything he had been, without ever asking for recognition. His efforts played on a loop in my mind like a silent film, one only I seemed to be watching.

A sharp snap of fingers just inches from my face jolted me out of that reverie.

“Hey... where did you lost?” Jayant asked, smirking playfully. “Thinking about me?”

I blinked, caught, and simply nodded, unable to lie, unable to speak.

I was looking at him when he suddenly showed me my earring.
He said, "I saw it on the table. The moment I looked at it, I knew it was yours."

He had noticed my ears—noticed that one of them was missing an earring.
Even I hadn’t realized I had lost it. All I remember is handing it to Amma to fix it back into its place.

He stepped closer and gently put it back on me.
"Wearing just one earring at a wedding... that trend's gone out of style," he said with a soft smile.

His smile lingered for a moment, but then he said softly, “By the way... you really shouldn’t walk into someone’s room without knocking.”

“I know,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

But the moment those two words escaped my lips, something shifted in his face. His usual teasing warmth gave way to concern—eyes narrowing just a little, brows pulling together.

“Wait... what happened? Did someone say something to you?” His tone had changed. Protective. Gentle.

I shook my head weakly. “No... it’s nothing.”

He stared at me for a second longer before giving a small nod, then turned away. “If me being here is upsetting you… I’ll leave.”

That struck something inside me. Hard.

Before I even realized it, I reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back—closer, closer still—until I had wrapped my arms around him.

“Don’t go,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against his chest. “Just… stay for a little while.”

He froze for a moment, and then I felt his arms encircle me—strong, warm, familiar. His heartbeat was racing. And oddly, it calmed mine.

He held me tightly, as though he'd been waiting for this—for me—for too long.

His voice was low, a bit shaky when he spoke near my ear.
“Seven days… Even if you don’t have an answer to my proposal yet, please… don’t ignore my calls like you did. I missed you. More than I thought possible.”

I closed my eyes, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“I missed you too,” I whispered back.

We stayed like that—wrapped in each other’s silence—for a while. Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke. It was just the quiet thud of our hearts and the unspoken relief of being close again.

But that peace didn’t last long.

Footsteps echoed from down the corridor, and as soon as someone turned the corner, we instantly pulled away—like two guilty teenagers caught in a secret. I darted off first, breath quick and heart louder than it should be. Jayant followed behind, almost instinctively.

For the rest of the wedding, he never really left my side. During the wedding ceremony, Jayant never left my orbit. He was always just… there. In the corner of my eye, at the edge of my smile.

He stood close enough to make my heart race, but not close enough to cause questions.

Sometimes he’d quietly drop rice into my hands during the rituals, as if sharing in the blessings. Other times, he’d shower flowers over me, letting them fall with a reverence I couldn’t understand but felt deeply.

No words were exchanged, but somehow, everything felt lighter… softer. Like maybe, just maybe, things were falling into place.

The ceremony ended.

Maya was crying during her bidaai—tears streaming down her cheeks even though she was marrying the love of her life. Her hands clutched Rishabh’s tightly, and yet, the sorrow of leaving her home, her people, her memories—it all came crashing down.

Everyone’s eyes welled up. Mine too. It was impossible not to feel it.

And then, just as I was wiping a tear, Jayant handed me his handkerchief. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Even in a crowd of hundreds, he was only looking at me.

But fate had its way of reminding me of boundaries.

Appa’s eyes were suddenly on us—on me, on Jayant, on something unsaid between us.

Panic clutched my chest.

Instinctively, I took a step away from Jayant. I put the handkerchief down. And I walked to my father, wearing the safest smile I could find. Jayant didn’t say a word. He didn’t follow. He just watched me go.

That was the thing about Jayant—he always knew exactly when to stay close, and exactly when to let go.

But what he didn’t know was… I didn’t want him to let go. Not anymore.

∆∆°•°∆∆

It was well past midnight when I found myself dialing his number. The house was quiet, everyone asleep, but my mind… my heart… they weren’t ready to rest.

He picked up after two rings.

“Are you coming for the reception tomorrow?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause, and then his familiar voice answered, low and teasing, “You tell me… should I come, or should I return to Delhi?”

“That’s up to you,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heartbeat had picked up.

He chuckled softly. “Today… you stopped me from leaving. Why don’t you stop me again for tomorrow?”

I smiled, looking up at the ceiling as if it held the answer. “Alright then… stay. I’m asking you to.”

There was silence, but the kind that felt full—not empty. Like he was smiling on the other end, just as I was.

“You know…” he said gently, “I’ve already told you those three words. When will I get to hear them from you?”

And just like that, his quiet I love you echoed in my mind again, softer this time, like a memory I didn’t want to let go of.

I took a breath, letting the warmth of his words settle in my chest.

“The day those words rise from my heart on their own,” I said slowly, “you’ll hear them too. I promise.”

He didn’t press. He didn’t plead.

So we stayed on the call, talking about nothing in particular—his favorite snacks, my terrible playlist, a cousin’s reception outfit disaster—laughing quietly so we wouldn’t wake anyone.

Somewhere in between the teasing and the silence, I realized something.

Sometimes, the safest place isn’t a place at all—it’s a voice you trust at 1 a.m., saying nothing… and still making you feel everything.

∆∆°•°∆∆

The next evening, I stood in front of the mirror far longer than I usually would. My fingers lingered on every dress hanging before me, but nothing felt quite right. My heart was beating too fast—like it already knew who I was dressing up for.

Then my eyes landed on the red gown.

Bold. Elegant. A little too much? Maybe. But it felt right—like tonight, I didn’t want to blend in.

Decision made.

Red gown, open hair cascading down in soft waves, heels that made my feet ache before I even left the house, and makeup a touch heavier than usual. When I stepped into the reception hall, the air felt heavier. Or maybe it was just the weight of expectation.

Amma was the first to greet me, her expression mildly disapproving. “Aaj kuch zyada hi tayyar nahi ho gayi ho?”

I looked down at myself instinctively. “It’s fine, isn’t it?” I replied, half-defensive.

“For you, maybe,” she said, brushing past me with a knowing look, disappearing into a sea of relatives.

I smiled awkwardly and scanned the crowd—my eyes instinctively searching for him.

Jayant.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

And just as I was beginning to feel a little foolish for looking so expectantly, someone grabbed my wrist—gently, but firmly—and pulled me toward a quiet corner.

My breath caught.

It was him.

“Wow,” he whispered with a grin, his eyes slowly taking in my look. “All this… for me?”

I tilted my head, trying to stay composed. “Yes, actually. For you.”

His grin widened. “Damn. Now I regret not wearing a tux.”

“You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I said, pretending to adjust his collar.

“Thanks. For saving the moment.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

And just like that, the tension softened. But only for a moment.

Because suddenly, we were close—too close. Our faces just inches apart. His breath mingled with mine. My heart felt like it had forgotten how to beat altogether.

Neither of us said a word.

Our eyes slipped shut, involuntarily drawn by the gravity of the moment, by the ache of almost crossing that invisible line.

But before anything more could happen—

A loud voice in the distance snapped us back to reality.

Our eyes flew open, and we stepped away, almost guiltily, like teenagers caught sneaking out.

I cleared my throat, brushing my hair back unnecessarily. “I should… I should go say hi to Maya and Rishabh.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable.

I turned and walked away, my heels clicking too loudly, my cheeks burning. I didn’t look back.

But I could still feel his gaze trailing me in the crowd.

∆∆°•°∆∆
___________________________________________________________________________

Jayant

Two people, become one now celebrating the moment.

That’s how it felt.

Yes, there were hundreds of guests, music, lights, the clinking of glasses and fake laughs—but for me, it was only about her.

Shreya.

She hadn’t said those three words yet. But she hadn’t walked away either. And that—somehow—was enough hope to keep me anchored tonight.

Every time she moved across the room, my eyes followed her like she carried gravity with her. I was standing by the drinks counter, barely sipping my soft drink, when two men talking nearby caught my attention. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but some conversations don’t ask for permission to be heard.

One of them, holding a drink with a lazy sort of confidence, said, “Mr. Khurana, don’t worry at all. My daughter will be your daughter-in-law.”

The other man chuckled. “Does your daughter know?”

“We’ll tell her. It’s not like she’d go against my decision. And besides, Gourav’s a good boy.”

The other uncle nodded, then added with a sly smile, “Oh, gourav is great—but your daughter? She’s a storm. Still, I’m ready to make her my daughter-in-law, just for you.”

They laughed. I didn’t.
Something in me twisted, uncoiled. My chest grew hot with something dangerously close to rage.

They were deciding her future like a business merger. No consent. No conversation. Just a casual toast to a lifetime decision. For her.

I couldn’t just stand there.

I stepped toward them and gently interrupted, “Uncle ji, may I say something?”

They turned, clearly surprised.

“Bolo, beta,” one of them said, eyebrows lifting.

I folded my hands slightly out of habit, keeping my voice calm. “Respected uncles ji, don’t you think the girl whose marriage you’re fixing deserves to be asked first? I mean, at least find out if they even want to marry or not.”

Both uncles stiffened. The taller one—his face sharp, proud—stood up. His expression shifted from polite to insulted in seconds.

“And who the hell are you to say that?” he snapped.

I smiled. Not to provoke—just to keep things from exploding.

“No one, sir. Just someone offering a little wisdom.”

“Wisdom? From you? These kids today have no manners!”

I kept my voice even. “uncle ji, I made sure to call you respected in the very first sentence.”

“Now you’re just being insolent,” he barked.

By now, a small crowd had gathered. Curious glances. Whispers spreading.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, uncle ji,” I said, still composed. “But all I’m saying is—before marrying off your daughters, ask if they want to be married. Ask what they feel. Their voice matters.”

That was it. The line that cracked something open.

The tall uncle’s face turned crimson. “How dare you—! Who are you even with? Who invited this boy? WHO IS HE?”

I exhaled slowly, my eyes flicking around, searching for a way to defuse the growing tension.

“Uncle ji, let’s not ruin a happy occasion,” I said, still trying to pull the conversation back from the edge.

“Oh, I’m ruining it now?” he hissed.

And just then—before I could reply—a voice rang out behind me.

“Appa…” I froze.
I turned slowly. And there she was.
Shreya.
She walked past me without a word, her eyes unreadable, and stopped beside the tall uncle.

Her Appa.

My heart sank.
I hadn’t known. Of all the people I could’ve confronted tonight… I’d picked her father.

She didn’t say a word to me—just stood there beside him, as if drawing a line I hadn’t realized existed.

My throat tightened.

And I couldn’t tell… whether I had done the right thing— Or just made everything worse.
___________________________________________________________________________

Shreya

"Appa, please calm down,” I said softly, placing my hand on his arm to soothe him.

He was fuming, his eyes still fixed on Jayant across the crowd. I had no idea what the fight was about—only that it shouldn’t have happened. Not here. Not like this. And not between them.

Jayant… he was just staring at me. Not saying a word. Just looking. Like he was waiting for me to say something that could fix everything, or maybe break it further.

“Why are you all still staring?” I snapped suddenly, turning toward the onlookers. “The show’s over. Leave.”

They hesitated, but left one by one, murmuring and shaking their heads. Jayant turned too—and walked away without a word.

And maybe… maybe that was the right thing. For that moment.

Amma arrived just as he left. She tried to calm Appa, but the rage in his voice had turned into something heavier—disappointment. Over and over, he kept saying how Jayant had crossed a line. That he was disrespectful and rude. But he never told me what had really happened.

And that silence? That made it worse.

After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore. I excused myself and walked outside, hoping he hadn’t just left in anger. Hoping I hadn’t already lost him.

I found him.

Far away, across the road, under the yellow streetlight—alone. Still in the same clothes, still carrying that storm in his chest.

Without a second thought, I ran toward him—heels clicking against the stone, my gown catching underfoot. “Jayant!” I called.

He turned to look at me. His face was unreadable.

I reached him, a little breathless. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, he knelt down suddenly in front of me.

“What are you—” I began.

“Your gown’s caught,” he muttered, carefully unhooking the thread stuck in my heel. “If you walk like that, you’ll fall.”

The gesture stunned me into silence. His tenderness… right after everything… felt like whiplash.

When he stood back up, I finally asked, “Why did you fight with Appa?”

“I didn’t mean to. And I didn’t say anything wrong,” he said firmly.

“You were rude to him.”

“No, Shreya,” he said, voice rising slightly. “I wasn’t.”

“You don’t understand how to talk to people. Where, when, and what to say—it all matters,” I said sharply.

“I spoke with respect. If he thinks I was rude, that doesn’t mean I actually was.”

“My Appa doesn’t lie,” I snapped.

Jayant’s jaw tensed. “If he believes I was disrespectful, that doesn’t make it true.”

“Then you must have said something wrong!” I insisted.

“I only spoke the truth. If someone’s ego got bruised, how is that my fault?” he shot back.

“Jayant!” I shouted, my anger finally spilling over. “Don’t talk about my Appa like that. Don’t say something you’ll regret later.”

Until that point, I had wanted to see both sides. I had wanted to understand.

But his last sentence—it felt like an attack. Not on my father, but on everything I believed about him.

Jayant’s face fell. His expression shifted from anger… to disbelief. And then, almost bitterly, he laughed under his breath.

“Now I get it,” he said, with a humorless smile. “Now I know why he said that…”

“What?” I asked, confused.

he said, nodding to himself. “It all makes sense now.”

“What are you even talking about?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me with tired eyes and said, “Fine. if you end up liking Gaurav… don’t bother, just telling me. I won’t wait after that.”

“Gaurav?” I asked, stunned. “What are you saying? Who’s Gaurav?”

He placed his hand gently on my shoulder, his voice low but steady.

“The same guy your father’s fixing your marriage with—without telling you.”

I blinked. My stomach dropped. “What?”

“Yes, Shreya,” he said, stepping closer hugged me, “don’t be shocked. Parents do that. Even the ones you think never would.”

I stepped back instinctively, pushing him and his hand off. “That still doesn’t give you the right to be disrespectful to my Appa.”

“I didn’t know it was about you when I overheard it,” he said.

“If you had known, then what?” I asked, almost yelling now. “What would you have done?”

He looked me straight in the eye.

“If I’d known… I would’ve asked them to consider me instead. For you, Shreya.”

The wind around us went still.

His words shook something inside me. But I didn’t know whether it was heartbreak… or hope.

“How could you just decide that on your own?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.
Jayant looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I never said I wanted to marry you, did I?” I said, harsher this time. I knew it would hurt him—I saw it in his eyes—but the words left my mouth before my heart could stop them.

He stayed silent for a moment. Then, almost like clinging to hope, he said, “But you don’t want to marry Gaurav either…”

“That doesn’t matter, does it?” I countered. “My Appa wants me to, and that’s what counts.”

He looked at me for a long second. His voice lowered, but the weight of it hit harder than any scream. “So if your Appa wants you to marry Gaurav, you’ll just do it?”
I didn’t answer right away. The silence between us swelled with the first few drops of rain. It was almost poetic—how the skies mirrored the storm inside me. The rain quickly grew heavier, soaking both of us. But I didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then, quietly—almost in defiance of the thunder above us—I said, “Yes. I’ll marry whoever my Appa chooses for me.”

Something in him broke right then.

He took two slow steps back, his hand brushing through his wet hair as if trying to ground himself. “Then what am I even doing here?” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “I should go.”

And just like that, he turned. He didn’t wait for my response. He didn’t argue. He didn’t plead. He simply started walking away—like I had given him no choice.

For a second, I let him. But then, something shifted. Maybe it was the cold biting into my skin or the ache I didn’t expect in my chest. And just as suddenly as he had left… he came back.

Jayant walked toward me with quick steps, unbuttoning his coat. Without a word, he wrapped it around my shoulders, his hands lingering just a second longer on my arms. His voice was gentle now—soft enough to almost disappear into the rain.

“Go inside, Shreya. You’ll catch a cold.”

Even now. Even when his heart was probably splintering into pieces, he was worried about me.
He adjusted the coat, not meeting my eyes, and then turned to walk away again—this time for real.

And I just stood there… in the middle of the road, rain pouring down around me, wearing his warmth like a shield I didn’t ask for but now couldn’t let go of.

___________________________________________

Jayant

My heart felt like it had been crushed under the weight of everything I’d hoped for.
I really thought Shreya loved me. She had said it once… in Goa. It was quiet, unplanned, but honest. But maybe that was all fate had planned for me—just one moment. One memory.

I walked back toward my car, each step heavier than the last. Her words echoed in my mind—“I’ll marry whoever my Appa chooses.”
So, that was it. She had chosen her father's wishes over what we had.
I used to think Shreya was strong. Fierce. Unshakable. But now... she wasn’t that same girl when standing in front of her father. She was someone else. Someone who let go.

I reached for the car door, my hand resting on the handle. The rain continued to fall in sheets, almost as if the sky mourned with me. Just as I was about to open the door, I heard it—her voice, piercing through the storm like a lightning strike to my soul.

“Jayant!”

I turned around instantly.

She was running toward me, drenched from head to toe, her breath caught between tears and urgency. And then, without any hesitation, she shouted over the sound of the rain, “I love you, Jayant… I really do!”

Before I could even respond, she threw her arms around me, holding on as if letting go would undo everything. Her body trembled, not from the cold, but from everything she had been holding back.

“Aisa bhi toh ho sakta hai…” she said between breaths, “ki mere Appa meri shaadi tumse kara dein…”

It is also possible that my father gets me married to you. Choose you.

She looked up at me, eyes brimming with hope and defiance all at once. I gently pulled her slightly away from my chest, just enough to see her face—searching it for any doubt. There was none.

Then she smiled through her tears, whispering, “Now say ‘I love you too’… before we start fighting again about your stupid behavior.”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, even through the storm inside me. Without thinking twice, I lifted her off the ground in my arms, as if carrying the most precious truth I’d ever been given.

“I love you too, Shreya,” I said, voice deep and certain.

And just like that… in the middle of the rain-soaked street, surrounded by silence and chaos, she finally confessed—clearly, loudly, fearlessly.

The rain didn’t stop, but something inside us settled. Something real had taken root. And that moment… that soaked, imperfect, magical moment… felt like the beginning of something far greater than either of us had imagined.
_________________________________________

🫶🫶