**Chapter 1: A World of My Own**
There's a kind of peace that settles over the mornings here in the valley, a stillness that breathes life into everything around. Sunlight filters through the lace curtains of my room, casting patterns on the floor as if the earth itself is decorating the moment for me. I can hear the faint hum of Dadi Ji's radio from her room, a soft melody that accompanies the distant sound of water flowing from the nearby stream. This is home.
I stretched, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and reached for the book beside me. The comforting scent of worn pages filled the air as I opened it to the spot I had left off last night, my heart skipping a beat as I re-read the words: *"I love you, most ardently."* The tenderness of it, the way it captured something so pure and timeless, always made me pause.
"Jannat! Jannat, neeche aao!"
(Jannat! Come downstairs!)
Ami Ji's voice rang out from downstairs, bringing me back to reality. With a reluctant sigh, I closed the book and placed it under my pillow, smoothing out the soft maroon silk covers. For a moment, I sat there, soaking in the quiet of my room, surrounded by my books and the comfort of the familiar. I always found the idea of love from a distance fascinating — something untouched by the modern world, where feelings were loud but words were quiet.
"Jannat! Sunai nahi deta tumhe?!"
(Jannat! Can't you hear me?!)
I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. Ami Ji's impatience had its own charm. I quickly threw on my dupatta, a soft cream-colored one that I always reached for in the mornings, and hurried down the stairs. My hand slid along the wooden banister, the one that Papa Ji had let me decorate with emerald vines and pink flowers after much convincing. It made the house feel more like a haven — our very own piece of paradise.
As I reached the bottom, I saw Ami Ji standing in the kitchen, her back turned as she stirred something on the stove. The familiar smell of masalas and onions sizzling hit me, instantly making my stomach grumble.
"Meri jaan, tum itni dair kyun lagati ho?"
(My love, why do you take so long?)
I grinned, walking up to her and wrapping my arms around her from behind. "Ami Ji, kitna pyara khushboo aa raha hai! Kya bana rahi hain?"
(Ami Ji, it smells amazing! What are you making?)
She turned her head slightly, trying to maintain a scolding expression, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. "Aaj tumhari Dadi Ji ko Rogan Josh ka mann tha, toh wahi bana rahi hoon. Tumhare Papa Ji bhi yeh pasand karte hain."
(Your Dadi Ji wanted Rogan Josh today, so I'm making that. Your Papa Ji likes it too.)
I glanced over at the small dining table where Dadi Ji sat, her shawl draped loosely over her shoulders, a cup of chai in front of her. She was nodding along to something on the radio, her face calm and content. I loved that about her — how she could always find peace in the little things.
"Good morning, Dadi Ji!" I called out cheerfully, making my way over to her.
"Subah bakhair, meri gudiya,"
(Good morning, my doll,)
she replied with a soft smile, patting the chair next to her. I sat down, resting my head on her shoulder for a moment.
"Tumhari Dadi Ji ko kitni fikar hoti hai tumhari, roz kehti hain ke Jannat ko zyada parhne se chashme lag jaayenge,"
(Your Dadi Ji worries so much about you, she says every day that you'll need glasses if you keep reading so much,)
Ami Ji teased from the kitchen.
I laughed softly, pulling away from Dadi Ji and shaking my head. "Ami Ji, mujhe chashme lag jaayein toh bhi chalega, books are worth it."
(Even if I need glasses, it'll be fine, books are worth it.)
Dadi Ji chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Bus, apni aankhon ka khayal rakhna. Tumhari aankhen duniya ki sabse khoobsurat cheez hain."
(Just take care of your eyes. They're the most beautiful thing in the world.)
"Jee, Dadi Ji," I replied, feeling warmth bloom in my chest. My family always knew how to make me feel like I belonged, like every part of me mattered.
Just as I settled back into my chair, the kitchen door swung open and in walked Hira Baji, my elder sister. Her presence, as always, was commanding in the softest way. She was draped in her pale pink hijab, her expression calm yet focused. Hira Baji had this way of making even the simplest things seem graceful, and I admired her for it.
"Assalamu Alaikum," she greeted, her eyes sparkling as she kissed Dadi Ji's forehead.
"Wa Alaikum Assalam," I replied, jumping up from my seat to hug her. "Baji, mujhe lagta hai aaj aap ne kuch extraordinary kiya hai, aap toh glowing lag rahi hain!"
(Baji, I think you've done something extraordinary today, you're glowing!)
She laughed, swatting me playfully. "Kuch bhi nahi, Jannat. Tumhari imagination kitni zyada chalti hai. Mein bas itna kehne ayi hoon ke mujhe Aunty Sayeda ke liye kuch Rogan Josh dena hai, tum de dogi?"
(Nothing, Jannat. Your imagination runs wild. I just came to say I need to take some Rogan Josh for Aunty Sayeda, will you deliver it?)
I smiled, always happy to help. "Jee, Baji. Bas ek minute, main apna hijab pehn loon."
(Of course, Baji. Just give me a minute to put on my hijab.)
I ran back upstairs, grabbing my black hijab from the dresser and pinning it in place with quick fingers. As I stood in front of the mirror, I glanced at the beautiful black pheran I had on today, the intricate gold tilla embroidery glinting in the sunlight. Ami Ji had bought it for me from the bazaar, and I couldn't help but twirl slightly in front of the mirror. I looked out the window at the majestic mountains beyond our home, feeling as if I were part of something larger than life itself.
"Jannat! Kaha ho tum?!"
(Jannat! Where are you?!)
Ami Ji's voice once again jolted me from my daydream, and I hurried downstairs, container of Rogan Josh in hand.
"Laiye, Baji! Aap ka kaam hogaya."
(Here you go, Baji! Your task is done.)
Hira Baji smiled as she handed me the covered container, her eyes twinkling with amusement at my excitement.
"Shukriya, Jannat. Aunty Sayeda ke ghar zara jaldi chale jaana. Waise bhi tumhare favorite mountains ke raaste mein padta hai unka ghar."
(Thank you, Jannat. Just be quick getting to Aunty Sayeda's house. Besides, her house is along your favorite route near the mountains.)
I grinned at her, nodding eagerly as I headed out the door, the cool air greeting me as I stepped into the warmth of the sun. The path to Aunty Sayeda's house was one of my favorites, lined with tall trees, green fields, and, of course, a perfect view of the towering mountains in the distance.
I hummed to myself as I walked, my heart light with the simple joy of being in the valley, surrounded by the things I loved most: family, nature, and the endless possibilities of what the day could bring.
As I neared the bend in the road, my thoughts drifted once again to the book I had left under my pillow. I could almost feel the pages between my fingers, hear the tender words spoken aloud. I smiled to myself, distracted by the vivid world of my imagination, when suddenly—
Thud!
I stumbled forward, nearly losing my grip on the container. My heart skipped a beat as I collided with something solid. Before I could process what had happened, strong hands grabbed my shoulders, steadying me as the Rogan Josh wobbled precariously in my hands.
"Aray, sambhal ke!"
(Whoa, watch it!)
I looked up, blinking in surprise. A tall figure stood in front of me, his dark eyes staring down at me with an expression that was somewhere between annoyance and amusement. He was dressed in sharp, modern clothes — clearly a city boy — and everything about him screamed out of place.
