𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚 : 𝐸𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠

~🥀 Stolen colours 🥀~

💗

The air smelled of gulaal and the sweet aroma of gujiyas. Laughter and music echoed through the college courtyard as students ran around, smearing each other with colors. The festival of Holi was in full swing, and amidst the chaos stood Haseena, her presence calm yet captivating.

She wore a soft white Anarkali, its delicate golden embroidery glistening under the sun. The fabric clung to her slender frame, the sheer dupatta draped lightly over her shoulder. Against the riot of colors, her brown skin glowed, her beauty undeniable.

“Haseena, tu aise hi khadi rahegi kya?” Anuradha huffed, hands on her hips, her face already covered in splashes of pink and blue.

Haseena chuckled. “Arre nahi, bas thoda dekh rahi thi.”

“Dekh rahi thi ya kisi ka intezar kar rahi thi?” Anuradha teased, nudging her playfully.

“Kuch bhi mat bol,” Haseena shook her head, dipping her fingers into a bowl of bright yellow gulaal before smearing it across Anuradha’s cheek. “Holi hai!”

Anuradha gasped dramatically. “Ab dekh beta tu, badla kaise lete hain!”

And with that, the game began.

The two girls ran across the courtyard, giggling as they threw colors at each other. Haseena’s dupatta slipped slightly from her shoulder, her laughter ringing in the air as she dodged Anuradha’s attempts. The colors coated her hands, her face, her clothes—yet she felt light, almost carefree.

Almost.

Because amidst the laughter, she felt it.

That strange prickle at the back of her neck. A gaze, heavy and unwavering.

Her breath hitched for a moment, but she ignored it. Shaking off the unease, she grabbed a handful of gulaal and smeared it across Anuradha’s forehead.

But there it was again.

That feeling. That stare.

Her smile faltered as her eyes flickered across the crowd. Laughter, colors, chaos—everything seemed normal. But she knew better.

And then, she saw him.

At the far end of the courtyard, beyond the crowd, stood Anubhav.

His white kurta was still untouched by color, his tall frame blending into the shadows of the tree he stood beneath. Arms crossed, his dark eyes never wavered from her. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even moving. He was just… watching.

Haseena’s stomach twisted, but she quickly turned away, forcing herself to focus on Anuradha.

No. She was imagining it. She had to be.

For a while, she kept herself busy, laughing, playing, trying to shake off the unease. But every now and then, she would feel it again—that invisible force, pulling her attention back toward him.

And each time, he was still there. Silent. Unmoving. Staring.

_______

Anubhav leaned against the tree, his white kurta untouched by color,his sharp gaze consuming every detail of her.

Haseena.

His eyes traced the way her white Anarkali swayed around her ankles as she walked, how the golden embroidery shimmered under the soft sunlight. The contrast of her brown skin against the delicate fabric was intoxicating. Every movement, every little smile she shared with her friend stirred something deep within him.

She was radiant, laughter dancing on her lips, her dark curls bouncing slightly as she moved.

His fingers twitched at his sides. Longing to reach out. To ruin the untouched fabric with his own hands. To mark her.

But for now, he only watched.

His gaze roamed over her face, drinking in the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed.

It was almost unfair—the way she made something as simple as playing Holi look like poetry in motion.

And then, she stilled.

A pause, subtle but noticeable.

Haseena’s smile faded for a fraction of a second, her posture stiffening as if she felt something.

As if she felt him.

She turned, scanning the crowd.

Anubhav didn’t move.

Their eyes didn’t meet, but he saw the slight furrow of her brows, the way her fingers curled around the edge of her dupatta.

He knew that feeling—when a presence is so overwhelming, it clings to your skin like an invisible touch.

For a second, she hesitated. But then, she shook it off, turning back to Anuradha with a laugh.

Foolish girl.

Did she really think she could ignore him?

“Happy Holi, Haseena!”

A smear of bright pink exploded across her cheek as Rohan’s hand pressed against her skin.

For a second, she blinked in surprise before laughing. “Toh tu akela khelega kya?” She wasted no time grabbing a handful of color and smearing it across his face in return.

Rohan groaned dramatically. “Arre yaar, yeh toh cheating hai!”

She laughed again, shaking her head.

And from a distance—

Anubhav’s world burned.

His breath stilled. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, the veins in his hands straining against his skin. His jaw locked, his temples tensed.

The color on her cheek—it wasn’t his. The smile on her lips—it wasn’t for him. And the hand that had touched her—it did not belong to him.

A slow, seething rage coiled in his chest like a beast awakened. His grip tightened around his sleeves, nails digging into his palms, drawing sharp crescents into his skin. A storm brewed in his darkened eyes, the air around him thick with an unspoken fury.

How dare he?

The audacity of that man—laying his hands on what was his. Smearing his presence on her, the woman who belonged to him and him alone.

His to color.

His to touch.

His to claim.

Anubhav’s fingers twitched. The urge to storm through the crowd, to seize her, to claim her, coiled inside him like a smoldering fire. He wanted to wipe away that wretched pink, to replace it with his own touch, his own color—not just on her cheek, but everywhere.

His mind spiraled into a dangerous fantasy, one where his hands would roam freely, trailing through the curve of her neck, down her arms, over the soft swell of her waist. He imagined pressing his fingers into her skin, dragging vibrant reds and deep blues across every inch of her flesh, staining her in a way that no one else could. His hues. His possession.

He wanted her covered in his color, his mark, his claim, until there was no space left untouched, no part of her that didn’t bear the proof of who she belonged to. Until she looked at herself and saw only him.

The thought alone sent a dark thrill down his spine. Haseena, painted in him. Adorned in his obsession.

And soon, she would be.

The air pulsed with tension, thick with the weight of his unspoken claim. His narrowed eyes stayed fixed on her, his breathing deep and measured, restraining the storm within.

She could play, she could pretend—but it wouldn’t last.

How long would she keep ignoring him?How long would she pretend?

Because soon—

She wouldn’t have the choice.

Her world would collide with his.

And when it did—

She would be his.

Only his.
 

________________

Another chapter is here! Apologies for the late update—I've been caught up with things.

But guess what? Aaj mera aakhri paper tha, and now it's finally time to unwind and have some fun! Hope you all are doing well with your exams too. Stay strong, and all the best!

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Tata

Love you all 💖👀,