ISHA’S POV

The morning air carried a soft fragrance of jasmine and wet earth. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting golden patterns across the path in front of me. It was one of those quiet mornings when everything felt oddly alive—the chirping of birds, the swaying of branches, even the faint rustle of the grass.

And yet, inside me, there was no calm.

For some reason, all my little unfinished chores, half-done thoughts, and unsettled feelings rushed back into my mind at once. I hugged my dupatta close around me, as if that would shield me from the chaos in my chest. And then, without even realizing it, a shy smile tugged at my lips. I quickly looked away, not wanting to reveal too much.

Why was I smiling? Why was my heart beating so unevenly?

Maybe… maybe it was because of him.

Shivamji.

Oh God, what is happening to me?

I scolded myself silently. Perhaps this man was just a little too flirty, too bold with his words. But what could I do? The way his eyes lingered, the way his voice carried both mischief and warmth—it stirred something unfamiliar in me.

Determined to escape before my cheeks betrayed me, I turned to leave. My feet carried me forward with purpose, yet my heart wanted to glance back once more.

“You’re leaving already?” His voice reached me, steady and teasing at once. “There’s still time.”

I froze. For a moment, I shut my eyes tightly. My chest tightened as if someone had caught me in the middle of a secret. Why, dear God, is this happening to me today of all days?

Gathering whatever courage I had left, I turned my head only slightly, forcing my lips to curve into a smile that didn’t reveal the storm inside.

“I didn’t come here to chit-chat,” I said, keeping my tone light. “An unknown person sneaked into my garden, looking around like a thief. I only came to chase him away.”

The words escaped me almost playfully, though my heart raced at my own boldness. With that, I gave a small, mischievous smile and walked away, letting my dupatta sway behind me like a farewell.

“Ishaajiii…” His voice rose from behind me, stretching the syllables in a way that made my knees feel weak.

Oh Lord, Shivamji… what are you doing?

Embarrassment rushed to my face so quickly that I could feel the heat spread across my cheeks. My skin tingled. My lips trembled. By the time I realized, my whole face must have turned crimson.

Damn it. Damn it.

I quickened my steps, desperate to reach the safety of my room. The wooden door stood ahead like a lifeline. All I had to do was slip inside, shut it tight, and then perhaps, just perhaps, I could catch my breath again.

But fate, as always, had its own timing.

Just as my hand touched the door, a voice interrupted me.

“Beta what happened to your face?”

It was Dida—my grandmother. She had chosen the perfect moment to appear, her sharp eyes immediately noticing the obvious.

“Oh no…” I whispered under my breath.

“It’s nothing, Dida,” I replied quickly, summoning the first excuse that popped into my mind. “Just a honeybee buzzing around me. I thought it would sting, that’s all.”

Even as I said it, I knew she wouldn’t believe me.

Her lips curled into a knowing smile, the kind only grandmothers have. “Still haven’t learned to lie properly, have you?”

I forced a small laugh, biting the inside of my cheek. My fingers nervously twisted the edge of my dupatta.

To divert the conversation, I asked, “Dida, forget all this. Tell me, did you take your medicine today?” My voice carried a note of insistence, though inside I was trembling, still hearing his voice echo in my ears.

“What medicine does an old woman like me need?” she sighed, her eyes soft but filled with unshakable truth. “Today I am here, tomorrow I may not be. Nothing will change, my child.”

Her words pierced my heart. She always brushed it aside, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

“Dida, you’re not well. Please… please take your medicine. I’ll bring water right now.” My voice cracked slightly, showing more vulnerability than I intended.

For a moment, she only smiled at me—the kind of smile that carried love, wisdom, and an unspoken understanding that she had seen far more of the world than I could ever imagine.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the blush from my cheeks, the echo of that voice calling my name, the mischievous gleam in his eye.

SHIVAM’S POV

I lay there in the quiet of my room, the flower resting on my chest like a fragile secret. Its petals were softer than silk, its fragrance faint now, but still enough to remind me of her—of Isha. Every time my eyes fell on it, my heart whispered her name again.

The house around me was still, though faint sounds drifted in from outside—the croaking of crickets, the occasional bark of a stray dog, the sigh of the wind moving through trees. Yet beneath all of that, her laughter still lingered in my ears, as if she had left an imprint no silence could erase.

The moonlight spilled across the floor, pale and pure, washing the room in silver. I turned my head toward the window and stared at the night sky. The stars glittered like scattered promises, and the moon glowed as if it had risen only to watch me dream.

And somewhere, I knew, she was under this same sky.

The thought made me smile faintly, though a sigh followed soon after. Is she thinking of me too? Did my words leave her restless the way hers left me undone?

My brother’s dramatic voice rang in my memory: “Bhai, you’ve already started looking for my bhabhi…” I had rolled my eyes at him earlier, but now, alone in this silence, I couldn’t dismiss it so easily. What if—just what if—he wasn’t entirely wrong?

For years, my life had been straightforward, simple, without distraction. Books, responsibilities, duties—those were the things I knew best. I had never allowed myself to wander into the dangerous realm of feelings, never let my heart chase shadows and dreams. But now… now everything felt different.

One girl. One morning. One smile. That was all it had taken to shatter the calm I once lived in.

Isha.

Her name echoed again, soft and insistent, like a heartbeat.

I pressed the flower closer to my chest and shut my eyes, letting the image of her face bloom before me. The way her lashes had lowered when she looked away, the shy curve of her lips, the sudden rush of color to her cheeks—it was all there, painted vividly in my mind.

I hadn’t meant to fluster her so much. And yet, seeing her turn pink, hearing her voice stumble, it had awakened something inside me that I couldn’t control anymore. A longing. A tenderness.

Perhaps I should apologize to her. Or perhaps… perhaps she had understood my heart already, hidden beneath the teasing.

My fingers brushed over the petals once more. “What have you done to me, Isha?” I whispered into the night.

The flower didn’t answer, of course. The only reply came from the silence outside, where the stars watched quietly, and the moon listened like an old friend.

Still, I knew one thing with a certainty I had never felt before:

No matter how much I tried to escape it, no matter how many walls I built—she was already there. In my thoughts. In my dreams. In the beating of my heart.

And there was no

turning back.

♡♡✿⁠ ⁠♡♡

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