𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐲𝐚𝐚𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐚 | 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 |

✿ 3 ✿

The next day, a young man was shown gently caressing a picture of a girl in his hand.

The girl was none other than Srijita, and his face lit up with a beautiful smile as he admired her image.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind, breaking his trance.

Startled, he quickly slipped the picture into his pocket.

"Indra, have you packed everything? Your clothes, office documents, and everything else, right?" his mother asked.

Indra nodded, "Yes, Mom, I packed everything last night. Don't worry about me. You and Dad should leave now, or you'll miss the train."

His mother nodded in agreement. "Yes, we're just leaving. Make sure to lock the door securely when you leave, okay?"

"I will, Mom," Indra assured her. "And please, after reaching there, don't forget to inform me about Dadi's health."

His mother smiled, "Sure, dear."

Indra's mind was still filled with thoughts of Srijita as he watched his parents leave, a mixture of longing and determination in his heart.

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On the other side of town, Srijita was in her room, diligently packing her bag and getting ready for the office.

Her movements were quick and efficient, a reflection of her meticulous nature.

Just as she was about to zip her bag, her mother entered the room, holding a tiffin container with a warm smile.

"I've packed your lunch well today," her mother said, extending the container toward her.

Curiosity piqued, Srijita took the container and opened the lid.

Her eyes widened in surprise and delight as she took in the variety of food neatly arranged inside: fragrant fried rice, rich and creamy matar paneer, spicy chili chicken, and a bowl of her favorite dessert, kheer.

"Wow, so many items! And you've made kheer too? Is there something special today?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine excitement and appreciation.

Her mother shook her head, her smile turning into a knowing look. "Why are you talking like a silly person, Srijita? Indra is coming today, and I made all this for him. He loves the kheer I make."

Srijita stared at her mother in shock, a mix of disbelief and disappointment washing over her. She struggled to hide her feelings as she slowly replied, "Oh."She tried to muster a smile, but her mind was swirling with thoughts.

Under her breath, she muttered, "You’ve never made these dishes for me any day." The words were barely audible, a quiet whisper of her feelings.

Her mother didn't seem to notice the undercurrent of emotion in her daughter's voice. She simply gave Srijita a pat on the shoulder and walked out of the room, leaving Srijita standing there, a storm of emotions brewing inside her.

As she closed the tiffin and placed it in her bag, Srijita couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment. Indra was always the center of attention, the favored one. She couldn't help but feel jealous about Indra.

Suddenly there is a sound of  door bell ringing...

Srijita's dad who is reading the newspaper on hearing the sound shouts to open the door as Indra might came.

Srijita's mom hurriedly goes to open the door and is greeted by the sight of Indra standing there.

His black t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders and muscular chest, accentuating his well-defined biceps.