[NOT AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE STORY]
Meeting you was destined, otherwise, coincidences wouldn't have been so beautiful.
✿︎✿︎✿︎
~World say that the moon is the prettiest, but I bet even the moon gets shy infront of her!~
𝗥𝗨𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗛 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗...
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As I leaned against the car window, the crisp, cold wind whipped through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
I rested my hands on the edge of the window, feeling the chill seep into my skin.
The darkness outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the turmoil brewing within me.
Rudra's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his expression stoic, but his words still linger, echoing in my mind like a gentle hum.
He loves me.
The thought sent a flutter through my chest, and I felt my face flush with warmth.
My gaze drifted to Rudra's profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights.
His strong jawline, sharp nose, and piercing eyes seemed chiseled from granite, yet his silence spoke volumes. The gentle curve of his lips hinted at a secret smile, as if he knew the turmoil he'd unleashed within me.
Suddenly, my eyes landed on a frail figure standing by the roadside, waving his hand in a futile attempt to hail a ride. No one seemed to notice him, and my heart went out to the old man.
Just as we reached there, but before I could say anything, Rudra suddenly slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a halt.
I looked at him confusingly.
Instead, he gave me a subtle nod, his eyes locked onto something ahead. Before I could process what was happening, he swung open the door and stepped out of the car.
Rudra opened the back door, revealing an elderly man in his sixties, adorned in a crisp white turban, his long beard a snowy white. He clutched a worn wooden rod and a faded cloth bundle, his eyes twinkling with gratitude.
Rudra smiled warmly and closed the door, then slid back into the driver's seat.
"Kaha chod du aapko?", Rudra asked, his voice soft and gentle.
(Where should I drop you, uncle?)
"Ji, Dharampura Basti," the old man replied, his voice laced with exhaustion.
Rudra nodded sympathetically and started the engine. As we pulled away, I couldn't help but smile at the kindness Rudra had shown.
I remained silent, observing Rudra's profile, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
We had been driving on the highway for about 10 minutes, the village landscape unfolding before us, when the old man spoke up.
"Aage se daaye?" he asked, his voice gentle.
(Turn right ahead?)
Rudra nodded, expertly adjusting the gears as he turned the steering wheel. The car smoothly changed direction.
