Drenched Heart's

🌸Serendipity🌸

The stranger's voice held a mix of frustration and amusement as he retorted, "Oh hello, Madam! Where are you going? This situation is because of you, and you're running away-" His words were cut off mid-sentence.

Anjali: "I'm not running away; I'm trying to help you. Please wait two minutes; I'll be right back. I got you into this problem, and I will help you out of it." With determination, she sprinted toward a nearby shop.

The stranger muttered to himself, "Oh man, where have I gotten stuck," as he brushed his long, silky hair and scrunched his nose in frustration.

after somtime;

"Here, take this," Anjali said, her breaths coming in ragged bursts as she extended her ink-stained hand to offer the stranger a small packet.

As the stranger's fingers skillfully unwrapped the packet, his expression shifted to a blend of surprise and curiosity. His eyes lingered on the pristine white shirt, its fabric untouched by any ink stains.

The stranger's gaze bore into Anjali's almond eyes as he murmured, "Wow, but was this necessary?"

Anjali's response was swift, her determination unwavering: "It was necessary. You said you needed to go to the exhibition, and who goes to an exhibition with ink-stained shirts?

The stranger's eyes softened, their gaze lingering on Anjali's ink-stained fingers, a silent acknowledgment of her artistic turmoil. "You're right," he admitted, his voice quieter now, a gentle timbre that contrasted with his earlier coldness. "I have to go to the exhibition, and perhaps I should go in this shirt." He paused, a contemplative frown creasing his forehead. "But wait, how much do I owe you for this shirt?" he asked, his eyes moving from Anjali's face to the pristine white shirt she offered.

Anjali shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Ah, no, there's no need for that. You can take it as my apology," she insisted, her voice firm yet laced with a warmth that had been absent before.

The stranger's  eyes softened further, a hint of guilt flickering within as he processed her words. "No, I can't—," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of self-awareness and a newfound respect for the woman before him. "I apologize for my behavior," he added sincerely, his gaze now steady and full of remorse.

Anjali nodded, accepting his apology with grace. "It's okay, I should get going. Bye, I hope your day goes well," she said with a genuine smile while walking away. Her departure left a lingering silence, filled only by the distant sounds of the bustling city and the quiet rustle of fabric as the stranger held the shirt close, a tangible reminder of their unexpected encounter.

Author's Pov:The stranger's hazel eyes followed Anjali's retreating figure, a silent plea lingering on his lips. "Your name—" he began, but the bustling streets of Delhi swallowed the rest of his words, leaving them suspended in ink-stained anticipation. He stood there for a moment longer, the chaos of the city enveloping him, yet he felt an unusual stillness within. There was something about Anjali that intrigued him beyond her artistic talents—a resilience in her demeanor that he couldn't quite place.

He took a deep breath, the scent of ink and resolve mingling in the air. He had come to this city as a stranger, but now he felt a strange connection to it, all because of a chance encounter with a woman whose name he didn't even know. As he clutched the pristine white shirt she had given him, he made a decision. He would wear it to the exhibition—not just as a garment, but as a symbol of this unexpected moment of human kindness that had pierced through his usual indifference.

Somewhere in the heart of Delhi❤

the room was bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, casting a warm ambiance that danced across the walls. The rhythmic beats of the music enveloped her, a soothing melody that resonated with her soul. She twirled, lost in her own world of thoughts and dreams, her movements graceful and unrestrained.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a resounding thud, disrupting the tranquility of her sanctuary. Startled, she turned to find her best friend, Anjali, standing at the threshold. Anjali's face was a canvas of emotions—a mix of embarrassment and a slight smile played upon her lips as she clutched a worn diary in her hand.

Arushi: "Why the long face, what happened, Miss Poetess?" she asked her bestie, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Anjali: "Today, I had an encounter with a stranger, and my ink-stained hands ended up ruining his clothes," she explained to Arushi. "It was such an awkward moment. There I was, in the middle of the street, with my poetry leaking onto his shirt. I felt terrible about it, but he was surprisingly understanding after the initial shock. We had a brief conversation.

Anjali: "I ended up giving him a new shirt to make up for it."

Arushi, with a mischievous glint in her eye, quickly brushed aside the seriousness of the situation. "Ohoo, forget all that. What did he look like?" she teased, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "Was he tall, dark, and handsome? Did he have that brooding artist vibe or more of a 'lost puppy' look?"

Anjali couldn't help but laugh at her friend's relentless curiosity and the way she could turn any situation into a light-hearted banter. "Well, if you must know," Anjali began, playing along with Arushi's teasing, "he did have a certain charm about him. And those grey eyes... let's just say they didn't make the apology any easier."

Arushi: "Uh-huh, charm," she gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Don't tell me my girl has fallen in love at first sight with that stranger?"

Her words hung in the air, teasing and playful, as she watched Anjali's reaction closely. Anjali rolled her eyes, a blush creeping onto her cheeks despite her best efforts to remain composed. "Oh, please," Anjali retorted with a mock scowl. "It was just an accident, not a scene from a romantic movie. And besides, I hardly know the guy !"

Arushi chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the flustered state of her usually unflappable friend. "Sure, sure," she said, winking. "But you have to admit, it's quite a story. The mysterious stranger, the ink-stained poetess, a ruined shirt leading to an unexpected connection... It's got all the makings of a classic love tale."

Anjali couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "You have quite the imagination," she said, shaking her head fondly at her friend's antics.

Anjali: "Anyway, forget all that and tell me, what happened with your date today?" she teased her slightly.

Arushi's face turned a shade of pink, and she replied with a hint of embarrassment, "Today's date? Oh, I completely forgot about it! And it's all because of that 'Grumpy' guy, ugh," she groaned in frustration.

Anjali looked at her confused and asked, "Grumpy? Who are you calling 'Grumpy' now, and what happened?"

"Who could this 'Grumpy' character be, and what unexpected role might he play in Arushi's life?"To know this stay with me till the end.