Snapshots of Love

Love Story

Listen to Indila's Love Story while reading 😌

"Ishan, zara yahan aana toh," Ishan's sister called out from the kitchen, her voice piercing through the clatter of pans and the aroma of simmering spices.

He glanced up from his book, the words blurring together as he begrudgingly set it aside. It was rare for her to need his help; she was the one who usually took care of everything.

Ishan walked in, his eyes adjusting to the warm glow of the kitchen lights. His sister was kneading dough, her hands moving with the grace of a dancer.

She looked up, flour dusting her cheeks like freckles, and handed him a steaming cup of chai.

"Yeh lo, bahar jake pilo, yahan bohot garmi ho rhi hai," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

He stepped out onto the porch, the cool evening breeze a welcome relief from the kitchen's heat.

The chai was sweet and spicy, just how he liked it. Ishan leaned against the railing, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink.

It was moments like these that made him feel at peace, far from the shadow of his parents taunts.

As he took a sip, his eyes caught a figure lingering across the street. A boy, probably his age, with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

Ishan squinted, trying to make out his features. There was something oddly familiar about him, yet he couldn't quite place it.

The boy looked up, their eyes meeting briefly, before he hurried away. Ishan's curiosity was piqued. Who was he, and why was he watching their house?

The next evening, the boy was there again, leaning against the lamppost, his eyes searching the windows. This time, Ishan felt a twinge of annoyance.

He knew the type – probably one of those rich kids from school, thinking they could take whatever they wanted, even if it meant disrupting his sister's peace. He decided to confront him.

Ishan marched across the street, the gravel crunching under his feet. "Oye!" Ishan called out, his voice echoing through the quiet street.

Shubman startled, turning to face him with a look of surprise. Up close, Ishan noticed the nervousness in his eyes, the way his fingers tapped against his thigh. "Kon ho tum? Aur kya kar rhe ho hamare ghar ke aage?!"

Shubman took a step back, his cheeks flushing. "Mai- mai bas yaha se guzar rha tha aur kuch nhi..." he stuttered, trying to maintain eye contact.

Ishan stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Dekho jhut mat bolo," he said firmly. "Tumhare jaiso ko ache se janta hu mai, kab se piche pade ho meri behen ke?!"

Shubman's eyes grew wide with shock. "Apki behen?" he repeated. "Nhi aap galat smjh rhe hai mai toh yha apke didar ke liya aya tha- "

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the moment hung in the air, charged with a sudden tension that neither of them had anticipated

For a few seconds, Ishan was speechless. The idea that someone like Shubman could be interested in him was ludicrous.

But as he studied the other boy's earnest expression, he began to understand...

A strange mix of emotions swirled inside him: confusion, anger, and an unexpected flutter of something that felt suspiciously like excitement.

"I'm Shubman," he offered, extending a hand. "Maine apko school mai dekha hai, and I just wanted to... get to know you."