This story is the love story of those two people
who were connected to each other since childhood
Siya khurana
A sweet simple girl of 16. Who lost her parents at a very young age .
Anant Singh oberoi
A tough guy....The one who wasnt that strict but...
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♠️Siya's pov ♠️
After a moment of silence, dadu spoke, "Siya, will you do something for me?"
"Yes, of course, dadu, just ask," I replied eagerly.
"Promise me that you will," he said with a seriousness that made me pause.
"I promise, dadu," I assured him.
"I've found a young man for you, one who is perfect for you. I want you to marry him," dadu declared, leaving me speechless. My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat.
"But dadu, how can..." I began, but he cut me off.
"You've made a promise, Siya. You cannot back out now. We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Now go and get ready for the evening," he said, rising from the bench and walking away.
I sat there for a long while, stunned, thinking how can I give my heart to someone else. Cause it's not even with me. Heena's call brought me back to reality. It was already 4 o'clock. I hurriedly rose and went to my room to prepare.
I entered my room, the sanctuary of my solitude. With a swift turn, I locked the door from within, a silent sentinel guarding against the world outside. My bags, weary travelers themselves, found rest upon the floor before the dressing table, their contents spilling out like secrets.
Drawn by the siren call of cascading water, I ventured into the bathroom, seeking solace beneath the shower's embrace. I closed my eyes, letting the cool droplets dance upon my skin, whispering to them to carry away my burdens, to wash away the looming shadows of troubles yet to come, to lift the weight of fate from my weary shoulders.
Unbeknownst to me, as the shower's tears mingled with my own, a tempest brewed within, breaking free in rivulets down my cheeks. Lost in a sea of thoughts, a knock at the bathroom door jolted me back to reality.
"Coming," I called out, shaking off the trance. Draping myself in a bathrobe, the realization struck—hadn't I locked the door from inside? Who then dared to disturb my private reverie?
My heart raced, eyes wide with alarm. I edged closer to the door, my hands fumbling for a makeshift weapon. But then, a thought—no thief would announce their presence with a courteous knock. What strange game was this? I inhaled deeply, grasping the wiper as a shield, and cracked open the door.
Peering out, I found... nothing. No one. Had my ears deceived me? Yet, the sound of knocking had been unmistakable, a double drumbeat against the wood.
With trepidation, I returned the wiper to its place and stepped cautiously from the bathroom. Barely two paces forward, a sudden grip on my wrist pulled me back, a gasp caught in my throat. A hand clamped over my mouth, another encircling my waist, my mind racing with fear.
The realization hit me—I wore only my bathrobe, vulnerable beneath its thin shield. I dared not struggle too fiercely, lest it fall away and leave me exposed.
