[Inaaya's pov]
Within a minute, while I am still lost in thought, Arya appears in front of me.
Her eyes shine in a way I don't often see, she says, "Listen to me," nearly out of breath. "I swear, a guy who came here a few minutes ago looked like a male lead in a romantic story."
I look at her and smile slightly. "What do you mean?"
She sits closer to me and says, "He is not just handsome." He seems to fit into a story. Even though his eyes are so serene, there's something there.
I smile softly and say, "Okay, okay, calm down."
She is not finished, though.
"And you know what? I believe he comes here frequently. For the past few weeks, I have been observing him. I don't know who he is or where he works.
"Hmm, really?" I say, trying not to show how curious I am now.
She gives me a confused look. "Have you finished writing?"
"Almost," I respond. "I write a few lines, but I am not sure if they are good enough. Are you willing to read them? If it feels right, let me know.
"I don't know if my readers will like it or not," I say
Arya instantly smiled. "Obviously. I love reading. You already know that I can spend all day watching C-dramas and K-dramas."The same. I am totally obsessed. Additionally, I have lots of books at home that we could exchange at a time.
She gets up and says, "Deal." But not right now. Let's head back home. There, I'll read everything. Tomorrow, I have to open the store early.
By the time we leave, the sky has softened and quieted, as if the day is gradually fading away.
When we get back to our room, Arya grabs my laptop and sits on the bed, fully invested in my story.
I do not disturb her.
To kill time, I grab a book from the table and begin to read. However, something slips out and gently hits the floor after a few pages.
I stop.
I bend down to pick it up.
It's a rose.
An old one. A faded red rose with dry, brittle petals that seemed to break at the slightest touch. It has been crammed into this book for a very long time. It nearly escaped my notice.
I stare at it for a second.
And everything returns in silence.
I don't often recall this memory.
Just like this flower, a feeling I believed I had folded away. This rose belongs to my first love.
The one I keep to myself.
The one I had to give up.
Even though it was a few years ago, back in 2023, I can still clearly recall it. I met Vivaan for the first time on that day at my college festival. A tall, attractive man with spectacles approached and asked about my name, my course, and whether I was a junior or a senior. He was older than me.
We had a lot of friends in common, so it felt natural when we spoke for the first time. By the end of the day, we had exchanged contact information, and that straightforward exchange turned into the start of something fresh and interesting. We soon began having regular conversations.
I didn't have many friends and had never had a best friend before. But as our conversations continued, he became my closest friend. I used to tell him every detail of my day, and he did the same. I initially thought he was a wonderful man despite his many possessiveness issues, which I assumed were common. But as time passed, I realised that he wasn't who he seemed to be.
Every time we disagreed or had issues, we would stop communicating completely rather than work things out. It's essentially a no-contact zone, sometimes for days, sometimes for months. For the other person, it felt like torture; I'm not sure if that was his way of handling things.
Initially, I couldn't stop wondering what had happened. What did I do? Why does he not communicate with me? I was really bothered by it. It felt like a punishment. It's not that I didn't make an effort to make things better; I did. I cried a lot and always requested that he stop acting in this way. However, he was that type of person; no matter how many times I told him, he remained the same.
[inaaya-mujhe pasand nehi ye behaviour vivaan,baat karke theek kar sakte hain hum sab, Tum aisa kyun kar rahe ho bolo
vivaan-Inaaya sorry ab se main aisa nehi karunga.Tumhe hurt karna mera intention kabhi nahi tha.]
But after a few days, he started the same behaviour again and again.
After a while, I realised I couldn't change him. I slowly began to give up.
Because he was my senior, he graduated before me, extending our distance even further. The no-contact periods grew longer, sometimes four or six months, and we stopped communicating.
I am not even sure what exactly changed, but one day I concluded that things couldn't continue this way. This relationship was mentally draining, so I knew I had to end it. Being hurt without even knowing why felt like a never-ending form of emotional punishment.
You shouldn't allow someone to come and go from your life at any time. That isn't a partnership. There were moments when I thought he might be searching for someone better, but he returned to me after failing to find anyone. I thought that was unfair.
I eventually gave him a call one day, and then he came back, picked up his phone, and messaged me as if nothing had happened. Like everything was normal—like we were just a normal couple having a normal conversation.
I didn't know how to react. I didn't know how I was supposed to act.
"Let's end this," I said to him because I could not take that anymore. And he just said "okay" with little interest. I used to write stories about him. At that point, I was disappointed rather than hurt. And perhaps that's what differentiates disappointment from hurt: once you're genuinely disappointed, that person will never be able to return to your life anyway. I wanted to make our story romantic to surprise him. However, I eventually gave up writing. I was confused, uninspired, and. I was no longer able to write anything romantic. I felt depressed, and everything seemed far away.
I don't regret anything or feel awful right now. It's just that I planned something lovely, but it didn't turn out that way. However, that's alright. Whatever it was, it's over. My present and future cannot be determined by my past.
Back to the present
Aria comes up to me and says, "Your ex gives it to you."
"How do you know that?" I ask.
"Did he break your heart?" she says, staring at me.
I give a small shake of my head.
"Oyee," Arya says, holding my hand.
"He doesn't just break my heart, he made me stop romanticising love," I respond.
"All men are the same," Arya gasps.
Then she says abruptly, "But not my man."
"Oh, really?" I ask, looking at her. Tell me everything.
"My boyfriend Karan," Arya says with a smile.
I raise my brows. "Really? When will I meet him, then?
She chuckles. "Don't worry, I'll introduce you to my boyfriend."
She gives me a slightly loving and angry look. "By the way, why didn't you tell me you're the famous author Sunflower? I read your book, and I'm a huge fan of yours.
She becomes excited. "It's unbelievable that my favourite author is here with me!"
"From now on, I am your assistant," she continues. Ask me anything you need.
"Achha, darling," I say, smiling at her.
[Darsh's pov]
I'm at home. It is nine o'clock at night. "Brother, Auntie said that her daughter-in-law is coming this Sunday," Kavi says. Tell me who she is. Are you going to get me a new sister-in-law? That's unfair!
I say, "Let her say it for herself."
"No, but I think Auntie is serious this time," Kavi responds. At last, my sister-in-law will arrive. At last, this iron plant will bloom.
"Do you want this project?" I ask, glancing at him.
"Yes, boss," Kavi replies with a smile. "But wait, who is that girl coming to your house?" he continued.
"She is a cunning liar," I say.
"A liar?" Kavi murmured.
I shake my head. "Nothing."
"Brother, why have you never loved anyone?" Kavi asks after a moment. Why have you been single for so long?
His question brought back memories of my early years. I can't recall the precise year. I was most likely thirteen years old.
At my school, there was a girl named Avnika. I had a simple school crush on her, but I didn't love her. I still recall writing her a letter. But the next day, when I went to school, I noticed the letter pinned to the notice board. It was read by the entire class. I felt embarrassed and heartbroken.
I later learned that it had been done by a girl in a different class. Her name was Inaaya.
She denied everything when I asked. However, every friend I had said it was her. Even the girl I wrote the letter to claimed to have given it to Inaaya. Everyone saw her in possession of it.
Everything was different after that. I never heard from her again after our friendship ended. In the end, I transferred schools.
She also bullied me, calling me names like "pumpkin."
"Darsh, why are you avoiding it?" asks Kavi. Tell me.
"It's not like that," I respond. I moved overseas because I was occupied with my studies. After that, I had to return to India. "I was just busy."
He says. "No, no, no. You did not have to come back. You had the option to stay overseas, but you decided to come here instead.
"Yes, I chose to come here because I have something important to do," I say with a smile.
Kavi smiles. "I understand what that 'important thing' is. You want to find your true love, don't you?
I gave a small smile. "I like her, but it goes beyond that. I'm not sure how, but I respect her. I feel a connection with her. Her words make my day. I don't know, but I am addicted to her. I want to know her. I want to meet her, tell her how she inspires me every time I feel upset. Her words give me motivation. Her Writing has become my safe place.
Kavi smiles. "All right, all right. That implies that Auntie's plan will fail. "But this time, it feels serious," says Kavi. Therefore, you would better make a plan."
My mother enters the room while we are conversing and says, "I called Inaaya a few minutes ago." She will come this Sunday. "Be prepared, wear a good T-shirt, and dress appropriately, okay?"
I look at her, confused. "But why will she be here? I have a meeting that day, Mom.
My mom raised an eyebrow. "Oh my goodness? Do you now have meetings on Sundays?
"No, aunty, Sunday is a holiday," Kavi says. How will he be able to hold a meeting?
I glare at him. What a buddy. Later, I'll deal with him.
Then I turn to my mother and tell her, "Okay, as you say."
This time, I know I need to take a step forward for her.
Then, I finally gathered the courage to send Sunflower an Instagram message. I write, "Hello, you haven't posted anything for a long time." Are you alright? I know it's a very common and possibly lame way to start a conversation, but I'm so nervous talking to her that I can't think of anything new or unusual. Then I want to unsend it because I think it is lame, but she has already seen it."
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