#2 in The Shaktawat Sisters | Completed
Avantika Kanwar Shaktawat x Garv Singh Chauhan
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He falls for her when his best friend mentions her name during his final year of college life. He was unaware how she looks and how she speaks until he met...
Content Warning: Mature chapter ahead! (Don't drop your age in the comment section orelse I'll drop you in the block list.)
Check the author's note at the end!
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Moon. That’s how my wife described me in her confession. And for me, she was my entire world. Perhaps that’s how we complemented each other – just as the moon was incomplete without the world i.e. earth. I was incomplete without her. Like a lost, wandering ship in the middle of the sea, she is my lighthouse, guiding me through the darkest storms, always bringing me back to the shore.
These past three weeks in a different continent or should I term it as our brief long distance, I yearned for her cordial presence, her tranquil voice, her boisterous taunts, her chaotic talks, her cherishing cuddle before sleep, her random kisses and hugs before she left for work and her calling me ‘ Jaan-e-mann’ pouring all her love.
I was under her spell. The way she resides in me – my thoughts, my lyrics, and in my life. She was woven into every part of me.
Finally, I landed in Mumbai. As expected, my relatives welcomed me with their usual chaotic barrage of questions and demands for photos.
“Garv Sir, Bhabhi kesi hai? Lene nahi aaye?” asked one of them.
“Congratulations Sir for winning the award. Party toh banti hai,” said another.
“Anisha Chowdhury bhi aayi thi aapke concert mai. Social media par dekhe ham.”
I gave a faint smile, hiding the frustration. “Aap photo lene aaye hai, woh kaam kijiye.” I put on my glasses and walked briskly to exit, eager to escape the crowd.
“Bhabhiji ke saath holiday par nahi gaye?” someone else questioned.
My bodyguard opened the backseat gate and I settled inside, ordering to leave the airport as early as possible. The time on my phone read 8 pm. I estimated that I would be home by 9.30 pm if the roads weren’t blocked by the traffic.
“Sir,” Hriday’s voice broke my thoughts.
“Say, Hriday.” I dialled her number.
“I’m planning to visit Darjeeling,” he said, looking out of the window. “To meet Arisa?” I asked, disconnecting the call.
He nodded.
“When?” I inquired.
“Next week,” he replied.
“Happy Journey. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to share it.” I said, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat. After Arisa’s accident, Hriday started losing himself, and his vibrant energy dimmed. He paid less interest most of the time unlike before, willingly finding a way to stay joyful. I could see the battle within him.
