A U T H O R

The club oozed opulence, alive with heat and hunger. Young bodies swayed under a haze of dim lights and strobing disco beams that sliced through the darkness like electricity. Girls in short, seductive dresses moved like fire, their beauty impossible to ignore. Eyes followed them—some with desire, others with envy. The air pulsed with deep, throbbing bass, drowning out voices, heightening every sensation.

Glasses clinked, liquor flowed like a river—shots slammed, cocktails stirred, champagne spilled over lips. Laughter grew wild, slurred words turned into reckless flirtation. Some collapsed into each other’s arms, lips colliding in raw urgency, making out with each other freely, uncaring of who watched. Others, driven by deeper urges, disappeared hand-in-hand into private rooms, to quench their thirst. Lust crackled in the air as the night spiraled into beautiful, intoxicating chaos.

Three boys sat in the corner, lounging on a plush couch, the dim lights casting a soft glow around them. One of them was completely lost in the moment, a girl sitting on his lap as he kissed her neck and shoulders, his hands roaming carelessly. The second boy, equally engrossed, shared an intimate kiss with another girl, their connection palpable.

The third boy, however, seemed detached from the scene. With a beer in hand, his arm rested lazily on the armrest, his legs casually crossed. He gave his friends a bored look, rolling his eyes as he took another slow sip of his drink, clearly uninterested in the chaos unfolding around him. With a bored look, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

Just then, the headlights of a sleek black and blue sports car flashed briefly before fading, and the engine hummed to a stop outside the club. The door swung open, and a tall figure stepped out standing at 6 '3", dressed in black denim and a white T-shirt, his black leather jacket exuding an effortless cool.

His sleek black goggles shielded his intense, hunter-like eyes, but he slowly removed them, scanning the crowd with a calm, confident gaze. As his eyes swept across the club, the girls walking by froze, mouths slightly parted, their eyes locked onto him with lustful admiration. His lips curled into a smirk as he caught their gazes, offering a casual side-eye before winking, slipping his shades back on effortlessly.

With a whistle, he tossed his car keys up, catching them skillfully, and strutted inside the club, completely unfazed by the attention he’d just stirred, leaving the girls behind, still sending him hungry, lingering looks.

As he walked into the club, his sharp amber eyes scanned the room with careful calculation. The girls who had been kissing other guys just moments ago suddenly pushed them away, their attention now fixed on him. They stared, sending him bold, lustful glances, unable to hide their interest. He noticed and responded with a slow, knowing smirk as he made his way to the corner where his friends were waiting.

The friend who had been calling him stood up with an annoyed expression, his face clearly fed up. Without a word, they shared a brief side hug—one with a frown, the other with a wide, cocky smirk. They both sat down beside each other, and with a casual flick, he tossed his car keys onto the table in front of him, the metallic clink cutting through the heavy music.

“You, walking statue of narcissism, where the hell have you been? Did you drop dead, you motherfucker?” his best friend snapped, his tone sharp, but his eyes weren’t even on him. Instead, they were locked on their two other friends across the table, whose make-out sessions had now turned more shameless and bold.

One of them was finger-fucking the girl on his lap, his hand buried under her short skirt, moving with a filthy rhythm. The lewd, wet sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of her filled the small space around them, barely drowned out by the club’s heavy bass. She was gasping against his lips, moaning into their kiss, her hips rocking helplessly against his hand, lost in pleasure.

Beside them, the other boy was no less wild, his mouth latched onto the other girl’s chest, sucking greedily over her bra. His hands roamed her body with no restraint as she clung to him, fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on.

“The fuck is going on here, bro?” he muttered, cocking a brow at the shameless display. His best friend, unfazed, poured himself a drink, not bothering to look up. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a cigarette toward him.

He caught it effortlessly, slid it between his lips, and lit it with a calm ease. The lighter’s flame flickered in his amber eyes as he took a slow drag, smoke curling lazily from his mouth. He didn’t look away from the scene, watching with that same crooked smirk—amused he entertained.

One hand draped lazily over the armrest of the plush couch, he sat back with one leg crossed over the other, a picture of effortless confidence. Turning his sharp gaze to his best friend, he took a slow drag of his cigarette, lips curling into a teasing grin.

“Still wondering why there’s no chick warming your lap?” he mocked, exhaling smoke as if the question amused him more than it should.

His best friend shot him a deadpan look, rolling his eyes before downing his drink in a single gulp. Wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, he fired back smoothly, “Because I’m not a jackass like them. You know that. I’m a one-woman man.”

He chuckled, leaning in slightly, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “That I know, my saintly friend. But there’s not even a shadow of a W in your life, let alone an actual woman.”

Setting his glass down with a soft clink, he looked at him, "I'm just not into this casual hookup stuff. Whatever happens in my life, it'll be after my arranged marriage, and you know I'm not into all that love drama." He says casually taking another drag of his cigerette.

With a smirk, he raised his brows in mock surrender, lifting his cigarette for another slow drag. "Ah, how romantic. I bet your mother’s already choosing your bride while you sit here sipping whiskey, patiently waiting for your perfectly loveless marriage to begin.” His best friend only scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk of his own.

“You just remember, we have final exams starting tomorrow,” his best friend reminded, his tone serious.

He made a face, turning his head away with a lazy grin. “As if I give a single fuck.” He took another slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily as his sharp eyes followed his other two friends. One of them was already getting up, carrying the girl in his arms.

“Finally, you assholes decided to get a room and spare us the live show,” he mocked, shaking his head.

Just then, the other girl, the one who had been moaning on his friend's lap minutes ago walked towards him. She leaned over, her fingers reaching out to touch his face. Before she could, he casually held up two fingers in front of her, signaling her to stop. “Don’t. Touch.” His voice was low but clear.

She pouted, her voice dripping with seduction. “Then why don’t you join us?”

He met her eyes, his gaze so intense it made her legs weak. His lips curled into a slow smirk. “Ranveer Singh Raghuvanshi doesn’t share, ma’am.” The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. His stare was so piercing, so dominant, she felt like cumming right there, just from his look.

Biting her lip, she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. “Then take me to your room. Let me show you how good life can be.”

His smile deepened, dimples appearing as he looked away for a second, then back at her. “First of all, sweetheart, you don’t have the slightest idea what it takes to make my life good. Not even close.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “And second, you’re not my type. Not at all. Come even an inch closer now, and I promise you, I’ll make you disappear so well, not even the best CBI officer will find a trace.”

The girl paused, biting her lip harder, clearly turned on despite his harsh words. “Hot enough,” she murmured, stepping back reluctantly. He chuckled darkly. “Unlike you.”

Giving him one last seductive look, she finally walked away with his friend, joining the other two as they disappeared into the crowd.

His best friend spoke up, tilting his head, “Why didn’t you go with her? You’ve always been the guy dying to be with hot chicks.”

He looked at him with a mocking smile, cigarette still between his fingers. “Hot chicks die to be with me, bro. I don’t chase them. They chase me.”

Vidyut raised a brow, clicking his tongue. “So what, Are you finally thinking of settling down like me? A one-woman man?”

He turned to him with a deadpan look. “Oh, please, Vidyut. Don’t drag me into your sanskari fantasy. Your sick little dream of being a one-woman man is beyond me. I just don't get it. How the hell can anyone spend their entire life with just one person? Like seriously, cut me out of that crap, I'd rather set myself on fire than waste my life in that kind of boring existence.”

Shrugging casually, he continued, “Life’s short. Have fun, enjoy with as many hot girls as you want. Why chain yourself to one woman like a slave?”

Vidyut shook his head with a sigh, lips curling into a small smirk. “And I don’t get your logic, bro. First, you don’t even let anyone touch you. And then you say you want to spend life with tons of hot chicks. Make up your mind, man.”

“Ranveer ko samajhne waala abhi tak is duniya mein paida hi nahi hua,” Ranveer said with a sly smirk, lazily waving his fingers at a girl passing by.

(Someone who understands Ranveer hasn't been born in this world yet)

Vidyut shook his head, completely done with his nonsense. “Anyway, pour me a drink, you drunken idiot. Or are you planning to finish the whole bottle by yourself?”

Vidyut grumbled under his breath, “Haan haan, tere baap ka maal hoon na, jo tere liye drink banaun?” Yet, he still reached out and started pouring the drink.

(Yes yes, I am your father's property, shouldn't I make a drink for you?)

Ranveer’s lips curved into a teasing smirk as he gave Vidyut a slow, sultry look, licking his lips deliberately, "Par tu toh mera maal hai, bol kab chal raha hai room mein?” he teased, his hand boldly sliding over Vidyut’s thigh.

(But you are mine, tell me when are you going to the room?)

But Vidyut was faster. Without missing a beat, he landed a solid punch to Ranveer’s stomach. “Yeh kutta, bina piye hi iski chadhi rehti hai.” Ranveer winced, chuckling as he leaned back, rubbing his stomach but still wearing that same shameless grin.

(This dog remains high even without drinking)

“Par chal tere liye toh woh bhi ban jaaunga,” Vidyut said sultrily, wrapping his arms around Ranveer's neck. Ranveer raised his brows, curious. “Woh kya?”

(But for you, I'll become that too)

(That what?)

Vidyut leaned in and whispered with a playful smirk, “Your personal hot chick.”

Ranveer quickly pulled back, his face scrunching up. “Abey cheeh.” And just like that, both of them burst out laughing.

💋💋💋

The sun rose bright and golden in the wide blue sky, soft clouds drifting gently like strokes of a painter’s brush. Birds chirped sweetly, filling the air with music. The first rays of sunlight touched the flower fields, bathing them in a soft, magical glow. Rows of tulips in every shade—pink, yellow, red, white stood tall, swaying gently in the morning breeze, the air filled with their sweet scent.

A soft, feminine laugh echoed through the blooming field. Her silver anklets jingled with every step, joined by the soft chime of her bangles and earrings. She ran through the endless sea of tulips, her silk baby pink dupatta trailing behind her like a ribbon of air.

Behind her, a tall, striking young man chased after her, a wide, teasing grin lighting up his face. His eyes sparkled with playful mischief as he reached out. The sunlight played over his sharp features, and he finally caught her—his hand wrapping around her delicate, bangle-adorned wrist.

She gasped lightly, her laughter fading as he pulled her close. Her dupatta flew up in the breeze and wrapped around his face blocking his view. His eyes fluttered shut as the soft silk brushed his skin and her sweet perfume surrounded him. It was the first time he’d ever breathed in the scent of a woman and it made his heart skip a beat.

Slowly, he pulled the dupatta away from his face, his eyes still shut, breathing in the soft scent that lingered in the air. Just as he was about to open his eyes and finally look at her, she quickly placed her delicate hand over them, stopping him.

“Aaj toh mere aankhon se yeh parda hata do,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, filled with longing. “Aaj toh mujhe khudka deedaar kara do. Kab tak aise chupogi mujhse, waapis aana toh tumhe yahi meri baahon mein hain.”

(Today, remove this veil from my eyes. Today, let me see yourself. How long will you keep hiding from me like this? You have to come back here in my arms.)

His heart pounded wildly in his chest as she leaned in close. Her warm breath touched his skin, soft like a feather, sending shivers down his spine. He had never been this close to any woman before—except his mother. But now, standing this close to someone unknown, someone he hadn’t even seen yet, made his whole body come alive. A strange warmth filled him, her nearness wrapping around him like a dream he didn’t want to wake from.

"Itni bhi jaldi kya hai? Dekh lena araam se, saari umr hai dekhne ko. Itna bhi intezaar nahi kar sakte tum mera?" she murmured, her voice soft yet so magical that it felt like music to his ears. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

(What's the hurry? You can see it at your leisure, you have your whole life to see it. Can't you wait for me even this long?)

Just her voice is so hypnotising… I wonder how beautiful she must be, he thought.

"Itne dinon se intezaar hi toh kar raha hoon, lekin tum roz aati ho aur yeh aasra dekar chali jaati ho. Lekin chalo yahi sahi, kar lete hai intezaar, saari umr hai paas mein. Magar tum aaogi na?" he whispered with a smile, his dimples showing perfectly, catching her gaze.

(I have been waiting for you for so many days, but you come everyday and leave after giving me this assurance. But okay, let's wait, we have you with us our whole life. But you will come, right?)

With a sweet smile, she leaned in and gently kissed his dimple. His heart skipped a beat, a rush of goosebumps spreading over his skin as her lips touched his cheek.

"Tumhare liye hamesha aaungi," she murmured softly, her words wrapping around his heart like a promise.

(For you, I'll always come)

💋💋💋

R A N V E E R

"Main tumhara intezar karunga," I said with a bright, dreamy smile. But just then suddenly it started raining.

(I'll wait for you)

"Toofan aa gaya, baarish ho rahi hai… Mummyyy!" I shouted, confused by the sudden downpour.

(The storm has come, it is raining… Mummyyy!)

OUCH!

My eyes snapped open. And here we go, I was lying on the cold floor, soaked from head to toe. Blinking in shock, I looked up only to see Mom standing there with an empty bucket in one hand and her other hand resting on her waist like a superhero in anger mode.

She looked absolutely done with life. And me. The dreamy rain? Yeah, it was Mom’s doing. Reality hit harder than that bucket of water.

I blinked a few times, still dazed, then slowly stood up, wincing as I rubbed my back. "Mom… w-wasn’t it just raining a second ago?" I asked with a nervous smile, still half-lost in my dream.

But the very next second, my eyes went wide. Mom picked up the empty bucket again—her eyes burning with fury. And I ran. I dashed outside my room as fast as I could while she chased me with that evil bucket raised in the air.

"I'll bring an earthquake into your life now, you useless creature!" she shouted, swinging the bucket like a weapon.

"MOMMM! FOR GOD’S SAKE, PLEASE STOP! WHAT DID I EVEN DO?!"

But there was no stopping her now. I could hear her footsteps right behind me, and I knew this was war. Dreamland was long gone—this was survival.

“DADDDDD!!” I yelled, spotting him sitting peacefully on the sofa.

I bolted straight to him, climbed up the sofa like it was a battlefield trench, and hid behind him, clutching his shoulders for protection.

Dad looked up from his newspaper, confused. “What’s going on here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the scene unfolding.

He turned to Mom, who was still holding that deadly bucket. “What are you doing with that bucket?” he asked calmly. Mom exploded.

“Your dear son has exams today, but look at him—sleeping like a donkey! I told him I had to go to the temple this morning, and that he should offer a prayer before his exam. But no—he was too busy dreaming to care!”

I peeked out from behind Dad like a guilty cat, whispering, “It was a really nice dream though…”

Mom pointed the bucket at me like it was a sword. “One more word and I’ll send you flying back into that dream!”

Dad sighed, placing the newspaper down. “Why is every exam day a war zone in this house?”

“Exactly! That’s what I was trying to tell Mom—she needs to take a chill pill. It’s just—” I was halfway through my sentence when her voice exploded through the room again.

“WHERE IS MY SANDAL?!” I froze.

“I swear, Ranveer, if you don’t go get ready in five minutes, I’ll make sure there’s not a single strand of hair left on your head!”

My eyes widened like saucers and without wasting a second, I grabbed Dad’s newspaper and quickly covered my head with it like a helmet, “Dare you touch my hair! It’s my life, okay?” I shouted from behind the paper shield, completely horrified.

Mom raised her eyebrow and took a step forward. I took two steps back. “Your life? Then get your ‘life’ moving and go get ready before I show you what real fear looks like!”

“Huh!” I huffed, making a face, and before Mom could take even one step toward me, I dashed to my room like my life depended on it. As soon as I slammed the door shut behind me, I leaned against it and let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Seriously!” I muttered under my breath. “How can she say she’ll rip all my hair out? That’s just brutal. I love my hair!”

Still grumbling, I made my way into the bathroom, peeled off my clothes, and turned on the shower.

The cold water poured over me, rushing from my head down to my face and body. It sent a chill through my skin, but it felt oddly calming.

I closed my eyes. And just like that… that dream came rushing back again. The same damn dream. The same mysterious girl. The same field. The same beautiful voice that haunts my head every time I sleep.

I don’t even know her. I’ve never met anyone like her in my life. So why? Why does she keep showing up in my dreams like she belongs there?

It’s strange… But what can I even do? Humans can’t control what they dream about, right? Or… can they?

Ranveer Singh Raghuvanshi doesn’t care about anyone. But why… Why does she stay on my mind? Why do I keep thinking about her?

Why does my chest feel so heavy every morning, like something’s missing… like my heart is aching for something I can’t even touch?

It was just a dream. Just a fucking dream. So then why does it hurt so much to wake up? Why do I want to see her in real life… like I need to see her? What kind of madness is this?

But then again… it was just a dream. And for god’s sake, I don’t even know why the hell I’m dreaming about it! Shaking off all those crazy thoughts, I finished my shower fast. I stepped out, dried myself, and threw on my blue cargo pants and a baby pink half-sleeve shirt. The colors popped just right.

I laced up my clean white shoes, fixed my precious hair just the way I liked it—messy but perfect—and slid on my black shades. Bag slung over my shoulder, I looked into the mirror once, smirked at myself, and marched out of my room like I owned the damn world.

Ranveer Singh Raghuvanshi—ready to raise hell, because heavens are way too holy for a sinfully handsome bastard like me.

Minutes later, our car pulled up outside the temple. Mom and I stepped out together. She took off her sandals, and just as I was about to climb the stairs, she stopped me with a sharp tone, "How many times do I have to remind you—this is a temple, not your personal property. Take off your shoes!"

I rolled my eyes and bent down to untie my shoes. "You know what, Mom? I have exams today. And I still don't understand why you dragged me here. It’s so annoying."

She gave me a cold glare as we started walking up the steps. "You should learn something from your elder brother. This carelessness of yours won't always help you."

With a lazy shrug, I answered, "Oh, please! Be thankful I even come to the temple. But Bhai? If he ever steps in here, it'll be the biggest news of the century." Mom shot another deadly glare my way. I raised my hands like I surrendered. "Fine, Bro. Not saying anything.”

Just then, an aunty was walking down the stairs. I flashed her a charming smile and teased, “Hello! Aunty. Badi Sundar lag rahi hai kya baat hai, pati bohat pyaar karta hain, hmm hmm?”

(Hello! Aunty. You are looking very beautiful, what's the matter, your husband loves you a lot, hmm hmm?)

She gave me the nastiest death glare ever and hissed, “Hatt, badtameez kahin ka.” I shrugged with a half-smile, mumbling to myself, "Lagta hai pyar nahi karta hai, huh.”

(Get lost, you ill-mannered person)

(Looks like he doesn't love you, huh)

As we reached the top of the temple steps, mom handed the thaali to the priest. She shot me a sharp look—her classic silent way of saying, "Touch his feet."

I let out a long sigh and forced the fakest smile I could manage. Bending down, I touched the priest’s feet to take his blessings.

“Jeete raho,” he said, patting my head. I straightened up quickly, fixing my precious hair, “Pandit jii thoda dhyan se, zindagi toh set hai nahi lekin badi mushkil se Baal set kiye hai usey bhi aap kharab kar denge toh kaise chalega?”

(Pandit ji, easy there! My life may be a mess, but I worked real hard to set this hair just right and if you'll make it wrong too that how will it work?)

The priest coughed awkwardly, and mom sent me another death glare. Oh come on, bro! What’s with all the death glares today? Everyone’s looking at me like I just committed a sin. But do I care? Naah. Not even a little.

We stood there quietly. Mom folded her hands and closed her eyes in front of the idol. I looked at her for a second and then folded my hands too—just staring blankly at the god, letting out a lazy yawn.

He was staring right at me—or that’s what it felt like. I raised my eyebrows, “What? I don’t need anything. Don’t look at me like you’ve done me any great favors.”

I rolled my eyes, “If you really loved me that much, you would’ve had this exam cancelled today. But no! Obviously not. Whatever... I don’t want anything from you anyway.”

Still standing there with my hands folded, I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky—when suddenly… A soft fabric draped over my face, gently blocking my view. I blinked, surprised. It took me a moment to realize that it was a dupatta.

My eyes closed on their own as the delicate scent from the cloth filled my senses. A soft, feminine fragrance—so pure, almost divine. But something about it felt… familiar. I slowly opened my eyes. The dupatta was still draped across my face, but through its sheer material, I could see her.

A girl stood in front of me, dressed in a baby pink short kameez with a light blue salwar. Her dupatta, an ombré mix of pink and blue, still covered my face. And in that moment—for some strange, unknown reason, my heart skipped more than just a few beats.

I slowly pulled the fabric off my face, but my eyes stayed fixed on her back as she stood there with her hands joined in prayer.

“Bhagwan ji... maaf karna,” she said softly, “kal maine mumma se jhooth bola. Aap toh jante hi ho, main kabhi jhoot nahi bolti... but you know, kabhi kabhi bolna padta hai.”

(Bhagwan ji... I am sorry. I lied to mom yesterday. You know I never lie... but you know sometimes we have to lie)

From her side profile, I saw her wink at God.

I let out a quiet chuckle at her little act—she was enchanting, like a breeze you could feel but not catch. Her voice... God, that voice. So soft, so familiar. Like I could hear it every single day and never get tired.

She added sweetly, “Sorry again. Thank you for forgiving me... I love you so much, muah!” She threw a thumbs-up at the idol, and winked again.

Then she started searching for something in her bag, head bent low. She turned to walk away, still looking through her bag, and passed right by me. My eyes followed her like they were tied to her soul. I kept hoping, pleading for her to look back, just once. But she didn’t.

Then suddenly, she bumped into someone. Her phone fell. She quickly bent down, picked it up, and then she turned around—

And everything inside me just... stopped.

My breath hitched. My entire body froze—every nerve, every inch of me felt electric, lit with something I couldn’t name. I forgot how to breathe. My heartbeat halted. My eyes locked on her like the world disappeared.

A fair face, glowing in the morning light. Sharp, perfect nose. Neatly arched brows. And her eyes—God, those eyes. Poets would give up their pens just to write about them. Light brown, deep like secrets, shining like the sun had found its reflection in them. Her lashes brushed against her cheeks with every blink. Her lips—plump, soft, with the slightest curve at the corners that made it look like she was always about to smile.

And her hair... those brown wavy strands kept falling into her eyes. She kept brushing them away, again and again—but they seemed too fond of her to stay away.

Those sparkling earrings danced in the light. I’d never been this captivated. Not even close. And I’ve been around a lot of girls. But this—this felt like fate punching me in the chest.

And then it hit me. The dream girl. It was her.

An old man apologized to her. But she gave him a warm smile and replied gently, "Arey nahi nahi uncle, koi baat nahi. Aise hazaar phone aa jayenge. Aap theek hai na?”

(Oh no no uncle, it's alright. I will get thousands of such phones. Are you okay?)

And just like that… Ranveer Singh Raghuvanshi became a goner.

For the very first time in my 22 years of existence, I felt something I’d never felt before. I wanted someone. Not just anyone but her. I wanted her close to me, in my arms, That dream… It felt awkwardly real. Too real.

The way she smiled, the sound of her voice, The way the sunlight caught her eyes. It all felt like something I'd already lived through… Like I was remembering, not seeing.

And that scared me because Ranveer Singh Raghuvanshi doesn't chase girls, they chase me. But today...Today I stood still, And my heart ran after her.

I kept staring at her like time had stopped… Until I suddenly realized, she had already climbed down half the stairs. My eyes widened. My heart began to pound loud and fast, echoing in my ears.

I was just about to run after her when Mom caught my wrist, “Kya hua? Kahan ja raha hai?” she asked, confused.

(What happened? Where are you going?)

I quickly shook off her hand. “Mom! Please, it’s urgent, I’ll be back in a minute!” And just like that, I ran. I ran as if my heart depended on it. As if I needed her to breathe.

I jumped down the stairs, two or three steps at a time, my eyes searching for her. But it was already too late. She was gone. Already sitting in the car… And the car was moving away. Leaving me and my restless heart behind.

It felt like something slipped through my fingers.

Something I didn’t even know I was holding onto until it was gone.

Punching in the air, I scratched my head, panic crawling under my skin, "Shit! Shit! Shit! No… she can’t just disappear like that!" My hands curled in the air helplessly. I had to find her. I needed to.

I turned around with a heavy heart, feeling like something inside me was slipping away. And that’s when something caught my eye. It shimmered softly under the sunlight. I bent down and picked it up. A handkerchief.

Plain… soft… light pink. Delicate in my hand. In one corner, a white thread shaped the letter ‘M’, right beside a small, neatly stitched bow.

I slowly brought it closer to my nose, my eyes shutting on their own. That same divine scent. The same dream. The same girl.

I looked up at the empty road, the one her car had taken just moments ago. I held the handkerchief tightly and whispered to the wind, "We’ll meet soon, Mermaid."

Because I didn’t know her name… Only that one letter ‘M’, And that she was too beautiful, too magical to be called anything else.

She had jumped into the dark, quiet ocean of my life, And left it glowing…With just her smile.

A U T H O R

The exam room felt like a prison, extremely suffocating. The only sound was the ticking clock and the scratch of pens on paper. But Ranveer… he sat frozen. The question paper lay open on the desk, but the words blurred, meaningless. His hand held the pen tightly, but he hadn’t written a single word.

All he could see was her. The girl in the temple. That dupatta. That voice that felt like a melody crafted by the gods. And then… that moment. She hadn’t even touched him. She hadn’t even looked his way. She had just… come into view. That was all it took. One glimpse and something in his chest had shifted forever.

Ranveer tried to blink her away, to bring himself back to reality. But her image danced behind his eyes like sunlight on water. Her face shimmered in his thoughts—the way her hair fell into her eyes, the way she pushed it back, again and again. The softness of her features, the calm in her aura, the quiet power of her presence.

He cursed under his breath. "This is insane," he whispered to himself, eyes scanning the paper. But again, nothing made sense.

It felt like his heart had grown heavier and lighter at the same time. He sighed, gripped his pen again—but instead of answers, his hand moved on its own.

First a gentle curve, then another. Eyes. Nose. Lips.

His pencil sketched what his heart remembered—her. Exactly how she stood in the temple, that calm expression, those eyes that hadn’t even met his but still haunted him. His strokes turned urgent, almost desperate, as if the only way to breathe again was to finish her face.

Line by line, stroke by stroke—he dragged her out of memory and onto the page. His pen moved with obsession, not technique. He drew with hunger. With fire. With a need so raw, it made his breathing shaky.

Her eyes.

Her smile.

That damn dupatta.

The paper wasn’t enough. His hand hurt. His breath hitched. And yet, he didn’t stop. Because at that moment, Ranveer didn’t care about the exam. Or the world. Or his future. All he cared about… was her.

And the haunting fact that he didn’t know her name. Didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. Didn’t even know if she was real. She came alive in lines and shadows on his exam paper. A masterpiece born not from imagination, but obsession. His obsession.

Time ticked on, students flipped pages, but Ranveer didn’t care. He sat with a wild heart and a hollow mind, staring at her portrait—his unnamed mermaid, drawn with trembling fingers and something close to longing.

He leaned back, his breathing uneven. "Who are you?" he whispered. "And what have you done to me?" And somewhere deep down, he already knew, He wasn't just distracted. He was caught. Completely.

Ranveer Singh Raghuvanshi was no longer his own.

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