"He became my home, the home I never wanted to run from."-Jasmine Malhotra
"I was the sun, she was the moon. I melted beneath the mountains, so she could rise in the sky full of stars."-Siddharth Khurana
(dive into the fairytale of Jasmine and Sidd...
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As I lay in bed that night, the memory of his touch replayed in my mind, refusing to let me rest. I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my skin, the way his eyes were boring into mine, the way his fingers had brushed against mine, leaving a trail of tingling heat that hadn't faded. The moment had been so brief, so fleeting, yet it lingered with an intensity that took me by surprise.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the thoughts, but they only grew clearer. The way he had looked at me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to uncover something hidden beneath the surface, it made my heart race all over again. There was a tension in the air between us, an unspoken connection that I didn't fully understand but couldn't ignore. It was as if the space between us had disappeared, and for a split second, the world had narrowed down to just him and me.
The memory of his touch was intoxicating, making my thoughts spiral into unfamiliar territory. As much as I liked him, I wasn't expecting this kind of encounter with him. I wasn't used to feeling this way, so aware of someone, so drawn to a single moment that it eclipsed everything else. It left me restless, my mind circling back to that touch, over and over, like a loop I couldn't break.
I can still feel the warmth of his bare chest against my hand, and his lingering, spicy woodsy scent from his coat, the one he draped over me to shield my hair and dress, a gesture as protective as it was intimate.
As his fingers gently grazed my hair, a sudden surge of electricity coursed through my veins, sending shivers down my spine and leaving my skin adorned with goosebumps. His gaze, unwavering and intense, was fixed on me throughout the entire ceremony. When I took to the dance floor, his constant, admiring looks fueled my every move. Each glance he cast in my direction was like a jolt of energy, compelling me to dance with even more passion and fervor, just to keep his eyes locked on me, never wanting him to look away.
I liked him, that was it. But does he feel the same for me too?
We just met three days ago, how could he possibly like me? I don't think this will ever happen. I don't think he'd feel the same for me too.
All of his thoughts were spiraling in my head more than ever as sleep finally overtook me. His presence lingered in my mind, each memory and glance weaving itself into my dreams, creating an intoxicating blend of reality and fantasy that made me long for him even more.
The next morning, I woke up much later than planned, groggy and disoriented. Mami Ji, not one to let such tardiness slide, promptly assigned me what felt like an overwhelming amount of chores. I found myself carrying a heavy basket brimming with vibrant marigolds, their rich fragrance filling the air as I made my way to the lawn. The Haldi ceremony was about to begin, and the scene was already bustling with activity.
