The moonlight bathed the Rathore palace in a silver glow, illuminating the lush gardens where a soft breeze carried the fragrance of blooming jasmine. The faint strumming of a guitar wafted through the air, drawing Durga toward the balcony. She stepped outside, the cool wind caressing her face, and looked down to find Anurag sitting under the old neem tree.
He held a guitar in his hands, his fingers gently plucking the strings. It was a melody she hadn’t heard before, yet it tugged at her heartstrings as if it was meant just for her. Anurag’s eyes were closed, lost in the music, but his lips curved into a faint smile as he began to sing.
“Tu samne baitha rahe,
Tujhe dekha karu rat din,
Dheere se phir tujhse kahu,
Dil dhadkata nahi tere bin.”
Durga froze, her hand clutching the railing. The words, so tender and heartfelt, wrapped around her like a warm embrace. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as Anurag continued.
“Tujhi se meri saanson ka safar,
Tujhi se mere ishq ka asar,
Na jane tujhe kab lage khabar,
Main kab ka hu mar mita tum par.”
The memories of their shared moments flashed before her eyes—the playful childhood days, the rainy evening dances, and the silent promises they had exchanged through their gazes. She realized that, despite everything, Anurag had always been her anchor, her constant.
Anurag looked up, his voice unwavering as he sang the next lines. His gaze locked with Durga’s, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away.
“Main tera dil na todunga,
Tum bhi na aisa karna,
Main tujhko khud se jodunga,
Tum bhi kuchh aisa karna.”
Durga’s heart raced, and she felt the pull of his words, his emotions. She wanted to run to him, to tell him that every word resonated with her soul.
