𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ⌇ 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ꒰𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟐꒱
❝𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏❞
──★𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚‧₊˚⊹
I am a cheerful and calm person who doesn't get angry easily but ju...
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The palace was oddly silent at this hour maybe because Jasmine wasn't around to fill the silent void building inside me.
Aap se mohabbat honi lagi hai
She is falling in love with me
Her words keep ringing in my mind. I had never been this proud to learn another language. I learnt Russian out of necessity, mostly because I didn't want to choose a language that would have too many students. Russian was perfect for me, since most people preferred Spanish or French.
Learning Hindi on my own was a different experience. I only understood small words and I always couldn't differentiate the meanings
But I still understood what she meant
Even if I hadn't learned Hindi. I would have figured it out — because of the emotion held in her eyes.
‘Love doesn't have a language’, they said.
She made me believe it.
I wasn't exactly heading anywhere — I was just wandering. Trying to walk off the restlessness that came from thinking about her. Again and again.
I wanted to confront her. Ask her to repeat it again. But the moment those words left her lips — I lost my sense entirely.
I spent the whole day thinking about it, replaying her words in my mind. I wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as me.
Would asking make her recoil or confess?
A wince escaped my mouth, when I stubbed my knee against the kitchen door. The impact sent a sizzle through my bone — it was a metal door after all. I blinked, rubbing my knee. How many times had this happened? ?
“What happened?” A sharp voice calls out.
I quickly straighten up and look ahead. Jasmine's father was walking towards me with a concerned look. “Nothing Sir, I wasn't paying attention while walking” I admit, embarrassment creeping in.
He lets out a sigh that expressed his disappointment “You should watch your steps, check if you scraped your knee”
I nod, still wincing internally. I watch him get back inside and quickly follow behind him carefully. A unique flare of familiar scent surrounds me, I slightly peek over him — watching him stir the tea.
It smelled just like the way Jasmine makes it.
It wasn't just the tea, it was her favourite — especially when her father made it. I remember her swearing that no one made better tea than him.
“That smell amazing” I comment, hovering near the counter awkwardly to get a glimpse of his special process of making tea.
He glances at me before turning back to the stove.
