21. Indian. Somewhere between a song and a sentence.

I write about the love you don't say out loud - the kind that waits in the back of a crowded room, memorising someone else's laugh, convincing itself it doesn't exist.

Fuelled by rainy playlists, old films, and the specific ache of stories that stay with you long after the last page.

Currently writing: Every Single Day - about the girl who buried her heart, and the boy who dug it out without asking permission.