Freeze Me, My Dear Love: The Last Frosted Bloom

Chapter 2 Refined/Rewritten

Sorry readers but I thought I needed to refine the chapter so here it is.

The reason we met so late is pretty silly. In today's world, it doesn't even make sense. But somehow, this nonsense makes me believe that a few things were never meant to be written in my destiny.

"God moves in ways beyond our understanding. No matter how clever we think we are, He'll give hope when He wills it, And if He chooses to take something away, Nothing can stop Him. In the end, His plan for us always unfolds as intended."

January 22, 2024-a day etched in history. The Ram Mandir was inaugurated, and the city buzzed with an unspoken energy. That day it carried something special, something that made the air feel dense like the universe was holding its breath for a moment longer.

I hadn't expected much to happen. Life had fallen into predictable routines. But there I was, standing at Sector 15, waiting for the metro, feeling a strange sensation-as though I was running late for something far more important than just the train.

As the metro rolled in and the doors slid open, I prepared to board when suddenly, a voice cut through the noise.

"Stop! Don't get on that train!"

I turned, startled. An old woman stood before me, her gaze unnervingly sharp, like she could see through my very thoughts.

"I see something in your future," she said cryptically.

I chuckled, feeling awkward. "I'm kind of in a hurry..."

Her grip on my arm tightened. "Beware of missed connections," she whispered, her voice heavy with meaning.

A shiver ran down my spine. Missed connections? The whole interaction felt unsettling, but I shook her off, stepping into the train just as the doors slid shut.

As the metro raced through the city, her words stayed with me, like a thin thread pulling tighter with every second. I tried to brush it off as coincidence, but I couldn't shake the unease.

Rajiv Chowk station was chaotic as always. The crowds surged and spilled out like a river with no direction, and yet... I found myself scanning the faces in the crowd, my heart pounding with an unnamed anticipation. I didn't know what-or who-I was looking for, but then I saw her.

Diona.

She stood near the flower shop, a small bunch of marigolds in her hand. My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't seen her in years-not since school, when we were worlds apart. Yet here she was, like some thread of fate had drawn her from the past and placed her right in front of me.

I pushed through the crowd, half expecting her to vanish the closer I got. Just as I was about to reach her, something slammed into me.

"Whoa!" I stumbled, barely catching myself.

"Shen!" a familiar voice called out.

I turned to see Damian, my old school friend. I blinked, momentarily disoriented.

"Damian?" I asked, my voice full of disbelief.

He grinned and pulled me into a brotherly hug. "Man, it's been ages!"

I forced a smile, but my mind was elsewhere. "Yeah... It's been a while," I muttered, glancing back towards where Diona had stood.

Damian laughed. "You look like you've seen a ghost! What's going on?"

I tried to brush it off. "I thought I saw someone from way back, but maybe I'm just overthinking it."

He patted me on the back, the moment feeling a little too casual for the tension tightening in my chest. "Hey, maybe that fortune teller meant me. We were bound to bump into each other, right?"

We exchanged a few more words, but my thoughts kept pulling me back to Diona. Damian and I soon parted ways, and I continued toward the temple, where the crowds were thinner, and the atmosphere felt more grounded.

As I walked into the temple, the low hum of mantras filled the air. The weight of the place brought a strange calm to my racing thoughts. I stood before the idol of Lord Ram, bowing my head in silent reverence, but I couldn't fully focus. The image of Diona kept creeping into my mind.

"You there!" Pandit Ji's sharp voice interrupted my thoughts. "You look like a foreigner. Do you even know any mantras?"

I sighed internally, but outwardly I nodded. "I know the Gayatri Mantra."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Then recite it."

I took a deep breath and started, my voice quiet but growing stronger as I went.

"Om bhur... bhuvah... swaha, tat savitur... varenyam..."

But halfway through, the words faltered on my tongue. I couldn't remember the next line, and my confidence crumbled under Pandit Ji's disapproving stare.

And then, a voice, soft yet clear, picked up where I had left off.

"...bhargo devasya dhimahi, dhiyo yo nah prachodayat."

I turned to see Diona standing there, finishing the mantra with a grace that felt almost surreal. The look of surprise on my face must've been obvious.

Pandit Ji gave a small nod of approval, but I was too stunned to react.

"You know the Gayatri Mantra?" I asked, still grappling with the fact that she'd been right behind me the whole time.

Diona smiled, a quiet, knowing smile. "I've followed it since childhood. My family's Irish, but we've lived here for years. It's a part of me."

Her words didn't make immediate sense to me, but I could tell they were true. She had just completed something I had left unfinished.

We walked out of the temple together, a strange silence hanging between us. My mind buzzed with a hundred unspoken questions, but none of them seemed to find their way out.

"We went to the same school, and yet I never knew..." I trailed off.

Diona glanced at me. "Maybe we weren't meant to know then," she said softly. "Maybe we're meant to know now."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. I nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.

As we approached the metro station, the sky had begun to dim. The earlier rush had quieted, leaving the streets bathed in the soft light of dusk.

We stood on the platform, waiting for her train. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt like a door had opened-a new beginning, something unspoken but deeply felt.

As her train arrived, Diona turned to me with a gentle smile. "It was nice seeing you again."

"You too," I replied, my voice quieter than I intended.

As the train doors closed and she disappeared into the crowd, a strange sense of loss tugged at me. But it wasn't a sharp pain-it was a gentle, almost hopeful ache. For the first time in a long while, I felt curious. Curious about her, about what fate had in store for us, and about how this unexpected reunion had begun to unfold.

Who knew that the beginning, which had filled me with a quiet excitement, would soon lead to my greatest undoing?