𝐓𝐔𝐌 𝐊𝐘𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄

𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

chapter fifteen

ajab si

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

a few months ago

Dhruv's POV

I rushedly parked my bike, my heart racing to match the ticking clock. I furrowed my eyebrows, subconsciously annoyed at myself for being so late. In one swift motion, I yanked off my helmet and strode toward the elevators, my steps echoing against the concrete. The two-wheeler parking was, of course, way too far, and I could already picture Veer, pacing and pissed. I had promised him I'd show up around 8 p.m., but here I was, an hour late.

The moment I stepped foot in Mumbai, Veer had begun planning this weekend getaway—a reunion with all my old friends from seventh grade, meant to revive bonds long left untouched. It was a nice gesture, sure, but honestly, I hadn't been in the mood to be social, not for months. Yet, impulsively, I called everyone this morning, and surprisingly, they'd all agreed. The "yes" had startled me, like maybe they'd all been waiting for this moment too.

The walk to the elevator felt eternal, like I was wading through quicksand, dragging my feet with a sense of urgency. Around me, the world buzzed with its own chaos, but I was barely paying attention. People were rushing, voices were rising—none of it mattered. I noticed a group of three hurrying to their car, dressed garishly in sequins and colors too bright for the drab basement. Some kind of function, probably. I didn't recognize them, but then again, it had been years since I last visited this place. Memories tend to blur over time.

I didn't look for long. Instead, I pulled out my phone, half-hoping there'd be no calls from Veer but also anticipating the inevitable missed ones. As I glanced at the screen, I felt a sudden tug on my wrist. Something was stuck.

I stopped in my tracks, lowering my hand to see a thin thread of fabric tangled in my bracelet. Confused, I followed the thread back to its source. It wasn't just a thread—it was part of a dupatta, and the girl it belonged to was standing right in front of me.

For a second, my brain short-circuited.

Her.

She stood there, her expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. Her brow furrowed, lips parting slightly as if about to say something. Her eyes flickered down to my wrist, and I could see the realization dawn. She probably thought I was some creep yanking at her dupatta. For a moment, we both just stood there, locked in this awkward freeze-frame.

Then, her expression softened. Her eyes, which moments ago had been sharp, now glimmered with something warmer. Something physically somersaulted in my stomach. I couldn't explain it, but there was an undeniable pull in that brief moment—like the world had suddenly slowed down just for this.

She was stunning. No, more than that. She shone. The lavender lehenga she wore flowed elegantly, the fabric cascading over her hourglass figure. The blouse was snug, its full sleeves embroidered delicately with intricate white patterns that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The skirt flared gracefully from her waist, its floral designs shimmering with every step she took toward me. Her dupatta, temporarily unwrapped from her shoulders thanks to my bracelet, had fallen slightly, but she gracefully draped it back in place.

I could barely process what was happening. The basement was enclosed, a place of shadows and dull light, yet she seemed to glow—literally. Her skin, a warm brown, caught the light in a way that made it look almost golden, like the moon had decided to shine only for her. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with something I couldn't quiet decipher and her payal chimed softly with her movements, the silver anklet's tiny bells echoing in the stillness between us. And her scent was everywhere, surrounding me, pulling me closer without me even realizing it.