[ This Book is under editing]
Niharika Verma is a stunning semi-classical dancer who wants nothing more than to travel the world, but the shackles of her dreadful past keep her grounded. On the other end, Asia's well-known businessman and CEO of Ra...
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The rhythmic sound of ghungroos echoed through the garden as Niharika danced gracefully, her every movement a perfect blend of fluidity and precision. A group of little girls surrounded her, mirroring her steps with eager enthusiasm, their laughter blending harmoniously with the melody of Mera Dholna.
The sky, however, had different plans. A sudden drizzle turned into a downpour, causing the children to shriek with excitement and rush towards the safety of the dance academy. But Niharika? She did not stop.
Her sky-blue Anarkali clung to her frame as the rain soaked through, her dupatta tied securely around her waist. Strands of her loose braid escaped, sticking to her face, but she paid no heed. With dark kajal accentuating her expressive brown eyes, a black bindi gracing her forehead, and silver jhumkas swaying with her movements, she was a vision of ethereal beauty—an artist lost in her own world.
Even as the music stopped, her feet continued to move. For her, dance was not just a passion or profession—it was therapy. A language her soul spoke when words failed. The little girls watched from the doorway, wide-eyed in awe, before one by one, they ran back into the rain, joining their teacher in an impromptu celebration of rhythm and freedom.
As the rain finally ceased, a pair of arms wrapped around Niharika from behind.
“Who’s this?” she asked, breathless from dancing.
A voice, soft and melodic, whispered close to her ear:
"Muddath mein likhi koi baat ho tum, Takdeer ki khoobsurat sogaat ho tum..."
Niharika’s breath hitched. Her heart recognized the warmth before her mind did.
She turned swiftly. “Oh my god, Disha? Is that really you? When did you come back to India?” Her voice was thick with disbelief, joy bubbling beneath the surface.
Disha, standing there with a smirk, crossed her arms. “Oh, toh ab aapko naam yaad aa gaya mera? Mujhe toh laga tha bhool hi gayi!”
“Well, I thought you were really mad at me for not keeping in touch,” Niharika admitted, guilt lacing her words. “And honestly, you should be upset! But if you keep acting like this, I might just start crying!” She pouted, clutching Disha’s hands dramatically.
“Arrey nahi! Bilkul mat rona! Mujhe toh chup karwana bhi nahi aata,” Disha panicked, before both burst into laughter, their giggles echoing through the rain-soaked air.
“When did you get back?” Niharika asked, still holding her friend’s hand.
“Just an hour ago. I met Maa and Papa first, then ran straight here.”
“You have no idea how much I missed you, yaar!” Niharika gushed, squeezing Disha in another tight hug.
“Alright, alright, bas, don’t get all sentimental now,” Disha teased, rolling her eyes playfully.
