Short stories based on real-love incidents!!
-Desi
-Pinteresty
-Wildest dreams came true feelings.
Books:
1. Ocean (ongoing)
All the pictures attached in the book belong to my bestie, Pinterest<3
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Every morning at precisely 8:30, like clockwork, I would plop myself by the window, anxiously awaiting that fleeting glimpse of her—yes, her. That face of hers, so captivating, so mesmerizing, it makes my entire world spin into a delightful chaos.
"Aaravvv!!!"
Oh, that's me! Aarav Seghal, a name that means absolutely nothing compared to the magnetic charm of my daily ritual.
"Aarav, come down here right now!" That's my mom's authoritative voice cutting through the morning haze.
"Yes, Momzill? What's the emergency?"
My mom, Punayshri Seghal, the queen of sarcasm, approached me with an expression that could curdle milk.
"Tell me, how does it feel to be this annoying?"
"Annoyingly handsome, you mean? Oh, it feels like a slice of heaven—Ahhhh!!!"
"Heaven my foot, you fool! You just shattered my favorite crockery into a thousand pieces!"
Good grief, my ears!
"Mom, I am deeply remorseful for that," I said, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
She released my ear with a mix of exasperation and begrudging affection. I seized the moment, gently gripping her shoulders.
"But I'm not sorry for admiring your radiant beauty, which is glowing brighter than a thousand lavender fields today!" I twirled her around with a flourish, just as Dad emerged from his room, looking mildly puzzled.
I dashed back to my room, only to realize—oh no!—I was late!
.....
"Bhai, are you stalking her every day?!"
Meet my best friend, Riar, the voice of reason (and occasional troublemaker).
"I'm not stalking, Ri!"
I would never, in my wildest dreams, breach her privacy. No, I merely indulge in the sacred ritual of observing her from my window, a practice that has become the highlight of my mornings.
Every single morning at exactly 8:30, she would rush out the door for college. It's as if struggling with her disorganized bags and darting out in a frenzy is her hobby. She would return home around 2, but alas, my classes coincide with her return, so our paths never cross. Though, there was that one time—
Oh, I'm getting sidetracked. So, she would leave again by 4 for her afternoon classes. Now you might wonder how I know with such certainty that she's off to lectures.
Well, her perpetually grumpy face, her hair always tied in that no-nonsense bun, her jacket—a constant fixture regardless of the weather—and her incessant ranting about the stubborn auto drivers who never seem to cooperate, all scream "off to class" in unison.
Now the burning question: Why am I obsessing over her, referring to her merely as "her"?
The answer is simple yet profound—I don't know anything about her. Not even her name. Yet, she occupies my thoughts like a beautifully haunting enigma.
....
Hope this piques your interest enough to keep reading!
