Riddhima pov
The weight on my chest was heavy, a suffocating pressure that pulled me out of the depths of sleep. I woke up with a sharp, ragged scream torn from my throat.
Beads of cold sweat broke out across my forehead, slicking my skin as my breathing turned harsh and erratic. The room felt entirely too small, the air too thin, as I gasped for breath, my chest heaving in a desperate attempt to regain control over the sudden surge of adrenaline.
I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees, shivering despite the warmth of the room. My mind was a tangled mess of unresolved emotions, tormented by a ghostly memory I couldn't seem to shake.
Clenching my fists against the soft fabric of my duvet, I whispered into the quiet darkness of the room, my voice trembling with a mixture of raw agony and profound bitterness.
"Mujhe tumse nafrat hai kyunki jab tum mujhe bina alvida kahe chhod kar chale gaye, tab bhi main tumhe bhool nahi paati. Aur mujhe tumse pyar hai kyunki jab mujhe bachane wala koi nahi tha, tab tumne mujhe andhere mein doobne se bachaya, mujhe apni baahon mein thaam liya aur meri jaan bachai."
(I hate you because I can't forget you when you left me without saying goodbye to me, and I love you because when no one was there to save me, you were the one who saved me. When I was drowning in darkness, you pulled me into your arms and saved me.)
The silence of the room offered no comfort, only echoing the void inside me. A sudden wave of intense frustration boiled over, shattering my frail composure. I buried my face in my hands and screamed, letting the anger, confusion, and grief pour out of me.
"Main tumse aage kyun nahi badh pa rahi hoon jabki maine tumhara chehra tak nahi dekha? Maine sirf tumhari aankhen dekhi thi, aur mujhe ek naadaani se bhare teenager ki tarah tumse pyar ho gaya!"
(Why can't I move on from you when I didn't even see your face? I just saw your eyes and I fell in love with you like a damn teenager!)
The furious outburst drained the immediate rage from my system, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion. I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing my racing thoughts to settle. I couldn't keep doing this to myself. I couldn't allow a shadow from my past to dictate my future or destroy the life I was trying so hard to build.
"Lekin main usse aage badh jaungi. Main uski wajah se apni zindagi barbaad nahi kar sakti. Main Ayush ko hamare rishte ke liye ek mauka zaroor doongi."
(But I will move on from him. I can't ruin my life because of him. I will give a chance to Ayush for our relationship.)
Determination settled into my bones, fragile yet stubborn. I sighed tiredly, rubbing my temples as a weary feeling washed over me.
"Mere khayalon mein aana kam tha ki ab tum mere sapno mein bhi aane lage?"
(Was coming into my thoughts not enough that now you've started appearing in my dreams too?)
Defeated by my own mind, I fell backward onto the mattress, staring up at the shadowy ceiling. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes, desperately wishing for sleep to claim me. But rest remained elusive. His eyes those intense, unforgettable eyes haunted the dark behind my eyelids, consuming every corner of my mind.
Thoughts of him circled relentlessly, keeping me captive in a loop of memories until, without me even realizing it, sheer mental fatigue dragged me into a deep, dreamless slumber.
---
The harsh, abrasive ring of my alarm shattered the peace of the morning.
I groaned loudly, burying my face deep into the soft fluff of my pillow to block out the noise. I reached out blindly, trying to slap the phone off the nightstand, but before my fingers could make contact, a sudden realization struck my brain like a lightning bolt.
'What time was it?'
My eyes snapped open. I sat up abruptly and stared wide-eyed at the digital wall clock hanging right across from my bed.
'9:44 AM.'
"Oh no, late ho gayi! Woh daanav aka mera boss toh mujhe kacha chaba jaayega!"
(Oh no, I'm late! That monster, aka my boss, will chew me up alive!)
Panic surged through my veins. I threw the blanket aside and made a chaotic dash to get out of bed, but fate had other plans. My ankles got completely tangled in the messy folds of the duvet. Before I could catch my balance, my center of gravity shifted forward, and I took a spectacular, undignified dive off the edge of the bed.
THUD!
My face collided directly with the hardwood floor. I lay there for a solid three seconds, staring blankly at the dust motes under my nightstand, processing the absolute disaster of my morning routine.
"Woah, kya khoobsurat din hai!"
(Woah, what a beautiful day!)
Sarcasm dripped from every word. Frustrated, I swung my leg back and kicked the wooden bedpost in sheer annoyance. A sharp, excruciating pain shot up my toes immediately.
"Uyi amma!"
(Ouch!)
I clutched my foot, wincing in agony. My leg was officially damaged. Realizing I didn't have a single second to waste feeling sorry for myself, I dragged myself up and began hopping toward the bathroom on one leg like a wildly disoriented kangaroo.
Once inside, I assessed the time situation. A shower was completely out of the question if I wanted to survive my boss's wrath. I rapidly brushed my teeth, threw on my professional attire at breakneck speed, and compensated for the lack of a bath by dousing myself in a generous, borderline lethal amount of high-end perfume.
I paused in front of the full-length mirror to inspect the final look. Despite the absolute chaos of the last fifteen minutes, my reflection looked surprisingly put-together. A wave of shameless self-love wiped away my previous panic.
"Tumhe toh ek actress hona chahiye tha. Kya kamaal dikhti ho tum, galat profession mein fas gayi. Chalo, koi na!"
(You should have been an actress. You look so amazing; you got stuck in the wrong profession. Oh well, never mind!)
I dramatically flipped my hair over my shoulder, striking a glamorous pose in the mirror.
"Tumhe itna khoobsurat dikhne ka koi haq nahi hai."
(You have no right to look this beautiful.)
I blew a dramatic flying kiss to my own reflection, completely satisfied with my visual presentation, before grabbing my bag and rushing out of the bedroom.
I scurried down the staircase, skipping steps haphazardly in my rush to reach the front door. At the bottom of the stairs, the soothing aroma of fresh tea filled the hallway. My father was sitting calmly in his favorite armchair, sipping his morning chai while reading the daily newspaper.
I darted past him, leaning down just long enough to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Good morning, baba!"
(Good morning, Dad!)
He instinctively wrapped an arm around me, giving me a warm hug and pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Sensing my frantic energy, he looked up in amusement as I pulled away and hurried toward the exit.
"Baba, main jaa rahi hoon!"
(Dad, I'm leaving!)
He folded his newspaper slightly, looking at me with a bewildered expression as I reached for the door handle.
"Kaha jaa rahi ho?"
(Where are you going?)
I paused, turning my head back toward him with a look of utter panic.
"Office, baba!"
(To the office, Dad!)
My father stared at me for a moment, his eyebrows pulling together in utter confusion before a slow smile spread across his face.
"Beta, aaj toh Sunday hai."
(Child, today is Sunday.)
The world came to a screeching halt. I stood frozen by the doorway, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Slowly, cautiously, I pulled my phone out of my bag and tapped the screen.
Sunday.
The color completely drained from my face. My father took one look at my thunderstruck expression and burst into a fit of warm, hearty laughter. He shook his head, looking at me with playful, mock seriousness.
"Mujhe mat kehna ki tumhe nahi pata tha aaj Sunday hai?"
(Don't tell me you didn't know today is Sunday?)
"Ugh, baba!"
I whined dramatically, dragging my feet back across the living room before tossing myself down onto the sofa right beside him. I buried my face in the cushions, letting out a long, exhausted groan.
My father chuckled softly, his gaze softening with affection as he noted the dark circles and tired posture I was sporting. He reached out, gently rubbing my shoulder.
"Tum apni company se resign kyun nahi kar deti jab yeh tumhe itna thaka deti hai? Tum apni khud ki firm khol sakti ho."
(Why don't you resign from your company when it exhausts you to the core? You can open your own firm.)
I lifted my head from the cushion, looking at him earnestly.
"Mujhe pata hai, baba, lekin main aapke paise aur naam ka istemaal nahi karna chahti. Main apni mehnat se kamana chahti hoon."
(I know, Dad, but I don't want to use your money and fame. I want to earn things through my own hard work.)
A proud, tender smile bloomed on my father's face. He patted my head gently, his eyes filled with warmth.
"Yeh hui na meri beti wali baat!"
(That's my girl!)
I grinned, my dramatic energy returning as I sat up straight, tossing my head back proudly.
"Aur vaise bhi, main India ki number one firm mein kaam karti hoon, isse badi achievement kya hi hogi? Aur mujhe apni firm kholne se pehle achha experience lena hai."
(And anyway, I work in India's number one firm what bigger achievement could there be than this? Besides, I want to gain solid experience before opening my own firm.)
Satisfied with my argument, I stretched my arms wide, letting out a massive, bone-deep yawn that nearly cracked my jaw.
"Acha baba, main jaa rahi hoon sone ke liye."
(Okay Dad, I'm going back to sleep.)
He chuckled and shook his head, returning to his newspaper as I dragged myself back up the stairs.
Reaching my bedroom, I opened the door, marched straight to the bed, and face-planted directly into the middle of the mattress, my legs dangling casually over the edge. I closed my eyes, ready to surrender to the blissful sleep I had been robbed of earlier.
Ringtone blasts.
I let out a loud, agonized groan, smothering my face with a pillow. Who could possibly be calling me at this hour on a Sunday? I reached out blindly, grabbed the phone, and pried one eye open to look at the screen.
Caller ID: Ayush.
"Yeh kyun mujhe iss time phone kar raha hai?"
(Why is he calling me at this time?)
I whined inwardly, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before finally swiping to accept the call and bringing the phone to my ear.
"Hello, Riddhima?"
"Hello, Ayush."
I didn't want to linger on the phone, so I decided to get straight to the point before my sleep completely evaporated.
"Kuch kaam tha?"
(Did you need something?)
My voice was blunt, driven by sheer sleep deprivation. Ayush cleared his throat on the other end, his tone remarkably polite and gentle.
"Woh... tum chahti thi na ki hum ek doosre ko achhi tarah se jaanein? Toh maine aaj ek date plan ki hai. Aaj shaam chhe baje main tumhe pick up karne aa jaunga. Is that okay with you?"
(Well... you wanted us to get to know each other better, right? So I've planned a date for today. I'll come to pick you up at 6:00 PM today. Is that okay with you?)
The instinctive urge to decline flashed through my mind. All I wanted was to sleep for the next twelve hours. But then, his memory flickered in the dark corners of my thoughts the mystery man, the eyes that haunted my dreams, the hold he still had over my heart.
If I was ever going to move on, if I was ever going to build a normal, real-life future, I needed to step out of my past. I needed to give Ayush a real chance.
"Haan, thik hai. Main taiyar rahungi."
(Yes, alright. I'll be ready.)
I agreed, keeping the conversation short before hanging up the call. Tossing the phone aside, I finally let sleep claim me.
---
By five o'clock in the evening, my room looked like a hurricane had hit it. Clothes were strewn across the chair, makeup brushes scattered across the vanity, and perfume filled the air once again.
By six o'clock sharp, I stood in front of the mirror, taking in my final appearance. I was dressed in an elegant, full-length black dress with a striking open-back detail.
The fabric clung smoothly to my silhouette before falling gracefully to the floor. My hair was styled in soft, cascading waves over one shoulder, and my makeup was subtle yet refined, emphasizing my eyes and lips.
A horn honked gently outside. I grabbed my clutch, took a deep stabilizing breath, and walked downstairs to meet my date.
Ayush's slick black car was pulled up neatly at the doorstep. As I stepped out into the evening ambient light, he opened his driver-side door and stepped out to greet me.
He was impeccably dressed in a tailored three-piece suit a dark blue blazer layered over a crisp black button-down shirt, paired with matching blue trousers. His hair was meticulously styled back with gel, not a single strand out of place. As he walked toward me, his striking green eyes locked onto mine, scanning my appearance with an intense, unreadable gaze.
Under the sharp focus of his attention, a sudden rush of heat hit my cheeks. I lowered my gaze, feeling an awkward blush creeping up my neck.
He approached me slowly, deliberately closing the distance between us until there was barely a foot or two of space left. He reached out, taking my hand softly into his, his fingers brushing against my knuckles as he brought his gaze back to mine.
"You're looking gorgeous, baby."
The compliment was sweet, but the moment the nickname left his lips, an internal cringe violently rippled through my entire body. I utterly loathed pet names. Baby? Shaby? Absolute nightmare material. It felt unnatural, forced, and completely unearned.
I carefully extracted my hand from his grip, taking a subtle half-step back while hastily shifting the subject.
"Shall we go?"
He paused for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by my reaction, but quickly recovered with a polite nod.
"Yeah, let's go."
He turned around and walked back to the car, immediately sliding into the driver's seat. I stood on the pavement, staring at the closed passenger door in absolute disbelief. He was already sitting inside, adjusting his rear-view mirror.
"Baby, baitho na gaadi mein!"
(Baby, get in the car!)
He called out through the open window, offering me a pleasant smile.
I plastered a deeply awkward, strained smile on my face and moved toward the car, pulling the passenger door open myself. As I settled into the leather seat and pulled the seatbelt across my chest, a silent, chaotic monologue erupted in my mind.
"Humesha ladko ko ladkiyon ke liye door kholna chahiye! Ye toh bare minimum hai, yaar!"
(Guys should always open the door for girls! This is the absolute bare minimum, man!)
I screamed frantically inside my head, rolling my eyes internally.
"Huh, men!"
I started laughing like a lunatic in the privacy of my own thoughts, questioning all my life choices.
"Mujhe mera fictional man chahiye, kyunki real world ke men toh bilkul yuck hain!"
(I want my fictional man, because real-world men are totally yuck!)
I whined silently, staring out the window as Ayush navigated through the evening city traffic.
After a twenty-minute drive, the car smoothly pulled up to the valet stand of an upscale, high-end restaurant. Ayush killed the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and quickly opened his door. Seeing him hurry out, I realized he was probably trying to make up for his earlier mistake by rushing around to open my door this time.
Determined not to sit there awkwardly waiting, I beat him to the punch. I unlatched my door, swung it open, and stepped out onto the pavement just as he rounded the back of the car.
He stopped mid-stride, catching himself, and offered me another thoroughly awkward smile. I gave him a bright, innocent grin in return, pretending not to notice his slight embarrassment.
He stepped closer and offered his hand. I took it, and he gently intertwined his fingers with mine, leading us through the grand entrance of the establishment. The ambient lighting was dim and warm, smooth jazz playing quietly in the background as the maitre d' led us toward our reservation.
Ayush had booked a quiet, secluded corner table that offered a degree of privacy away from the main dining room floor.
We took our seats opposite each other. The waiter arrived moments later, placing crisp leather-bound menus in front of us.
"Order whatever you want," Ayush offered generously, opening his menu.
"Thank you," I replied, opening mine and scanning the elaborate list of gourmet dishes.
We placed our food orders with the waiter and settled into conversation. As the multi-course meal was served, the atmosphere relaxed significantly. Ayush was polite, articulate, and attentive. We talked about our respective jobs, shared childhood anecdotes, debated our favorite movies, and discussed our long-term goals and hobbies.
The food was exquisite, the conversation flowed naturally, and for the first time all evening, I found myself genuinely enjoying the date, letting my guard down step by step.
By the time dessert was finished, the restaurant had quieted down. The warm glow of the candlelight flickered softly between us, casting long shadows across the table.
Ayush shifted in his seat, extending his arm across the small table to cover my hand with his. His touch was warm and steady.
I looked up, meeting his gaze. He was staring directly into my eyes with an intensity that made the surrounding room fade into the background.
Slowly, deliberately, he began leaning across the narrow table, his eyes darting down to my lips before rising back to meet my gaze. The intention was unmistakable he was leaning in for a kiss to end the perfect night.
I felt my heart skip a beat. This is it, I thought. A fresh start.
I took a soft breath and slowly closed my eyes, tilting my face upward slightly, waiting for his lips to meet mine.
The weight on my chest was heavy, a suffocating pressure that pulled me out of the depths of sleep. I woke up with a sharp, ragged scream torn from my throat.
Beads of cold sweat broke out across my forehead, slicking my skin as my breathing turned harsh and erratic. The room felt entirely too small, the air too thin, as I gasped for breath, my chest heaving in a desperate attempt to regain control over the sudden surge of adrenaline.
I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees, shivering despite the warmth of the room. My mind was a tangled mess of unresolved emotions, tormented by a ghostly memory I couldn't seem to shake.
Clenching my fists against the soft fabric of my duvet, I whispered into the quiet darkness of the room, my voice trembling with a mixture of raw agony and profound bitterness.
"Mujhe tumse nafrat hai kyunki jab tum mujhe bina alvida kahe chhod kar chale gaye, tab bhi main tumhe bhool nahi paati. Aur mujhe tumse pyar hai kyunki jab mujhe bachane wala koi nahi tha, tab tumne mujhe andhere mein doobne se bachaya, mujhe apni baahon mein thaam liya aur meri jaan bachai."
(I hate you because I can't forget you when you left me without saying goodbye to me, and I love you because when no one was there to save me, you were the one who saved me. When I was drowning in darkness, you pulled me into your arms and saved me.)
The silence of the room offered no comfort, only echoing the void inside me. A sudden wave of intense frustration boiled over, shattering my frail composure. I buried my face in my hands and screamed, letting the anger, confusion, and grief pour out of me.
"Main tumse aage kyun nahi badh pa rahi hoon jabki maine tumhara chehra tak nahi dekha? Maine sirf tumhari aankhen dekhi thi, aur mujhe ek naadaani se bhare teenager ki tarah tumse pyar ho gaya!"
(Why can't I move on from you when I didn't even see your face? I just saw your eyes and I fell in love with you like a damn teenager!)
The furious outburst drained the immediate rage from my system, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion. I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing my racing thoughts to settle. I couldn't keep doing this to myself. I couldn't allow a shadow from my past to dictate my future or destroy the life I was trying so hard to build.
"Lekin main usse aage badh jaungi. Main uski wajah se apni zindagi barbaad nahi kar sakti. Main Ayush ko hamare rishte ke liye ek mauka zaroor doongi."
(But I will move on from him. I can't ruin my life because of him. I will give a chance to Ayush for our relationship.)
Determination settled into my bones, fragile yet stubborn. I sighed tiredly, rubbing my temples as a weary feeling washed over me.
"Mere khayalon mein aana kam tha ki ab tum mere sapno mein bhi aane lage?"
(Was coming into my thoughts not enough that now you've started appearing in my dreams too?)
Defeated by my own mind, I fell backward onto the mattress, staring up at the shadowy ceiling. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes, desperately wishing for sleep to claim me. But rest remained elusive. His eyes those intense, unforgettable eyes haunted the dark behind my eyelids, consuming every corner of my mind.
Thoughts of him circled relentlessly, keeping me captive in a loop of memories until, without me even realizing it, sheer mental fatigue dragged me into a deep, dreamless slumber.
---
The harsh, abrasive ring of my alarm shattered the peace of the morning.
I groaned loudly, burying my face deep into the soft fluff of my pillow to block out the noise. I reached out blindly, trying to slap the phone off the nightstand, but before my fingers could make contact, a sudden realization struck my brain like a lightning bolt.
'What time was it?'
My eyes snapped open. I sat up abruptly and stared wide-eyed at the digital wall clock hanging right across from my bed.
'9:44 AM.'
"Oh no, late ho gayi! Woh daanav aka mera boss toh mujhe kacha chaba jaayega!"
(Oh no, I'm late! That monster, aka my boss, will chew me up alive!)
Panic surged through my veins. I threw the blanket aside and made a chaotic dash to get out of bed, but fate had other plans. My ankles got completely tangled in the messy folds of the duvet. Before I could catch my balance, my center of gravity shifted forward, and I took a spectacular, undignified dive off the edge of the bed.
THUD!
My face collided directly with the hardwood floor. I lay there for a solid three seconds, staring blankly at the dust motes under my nightstand, processing the absolute disaster of my morning routine.
"Woah, kya khoobsurat din hai!"
(Woah, what a beautiful day!)
Sarcasm dripped from every word. Frustrated, I swung my leg back and kicked the wooden bedpost in sheer annoyance. A sharp, excruciating pain shot up my toes immediately.
"Uyi amma!"
(Ouch!)
I clutched my foot, wincing in agony. My leg was officially damaged. Realizing I didn't have a single second to waste feeling sorry for myself, I dragged myself up and began hopping toward the bathroom on one leg like a wildly disoriented kangaroo.
Once inside, I assessed the time situation. A shower was completely out of the question if I wanted to survive my boss's wrath. I rapidly brushed my teeth, threw on my professional attire at breakneck speed, and compensated for the lack of a bath by dousing myself in a generous, borderline lethal amount of high-end perfume.
I paused in front of the full-length mirror to inspect the final look. Despite the absolute chaos of the last fifteen minutes, my reflection looked surprisingly put-together. A wave of shameless self-love wiped away my previous panic.
"Tumhe toh ek actress hona chahiye tha. Kya kamaal dikhti ho tum, galat profession mein fas gayi. Chalo, koi na!"
(You should have been an actress. You look so amazing; you got stuck in the wrong profession. Oh well, never mind!)
I dramatically flipped my hair over my shoulder, striking a glamorous pose in the mirror.
"Tumhe itna khoobsurat dikhne ka koi haq nahi hai."
(You have no right to look this beautiful.)
I blew a dramatic flying kiss to my own reflection, completely satisfied with my visual presentation, before grabbing my bag and rushing out of the bedroom.
I scurried down the staircase, skipping steps haphazardly in my rush to reach the front door. At the bottom of the stairs, the soothing aroma of fresh tea filled the hallway. My father was sitting calmly in his favorite armchair, sipping his morning chai while reading the daily newspaper.
I darted past him, leaning down just long enough to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Good morning, baba!"
(Good morning, Dad!)
He instinctively wrapped an arm around me, giving me a warm hug and pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Sensing my frantic energy, he looked up in amusement as I pulled away and hurried toward the exit.
"Baba, main jaa rahi hoon!"
(Dad, I'm leaving!)
He folded his newspaper slightly, looking at me with a bewildered expression as I reached for the door handle.
"Kaha jaa rahi ho?"
(Where are you going?)
I paused, turning my head back toward him with a look of utter panic.
"Office, baba!"
(To the office, Dad!)
My father stared at me for a moment, his eyebrows pulling together in utter confusion before a slow smile spread across his face.
"Beta, aaj toh Sunday hai."
(Child, today is Sunday.)
The world came to a screeching halt. I stood frozen by the doorway, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Slowly, cautiously, I pulled my phone out of my bag and tapped the screen.
Sunday.
The color completely drained from my face. My father took one look at my thunderstruck expression and burst into a fit of warm, hearty laughter. He shook his head, looking at me with playful, mock seriousness.
"Mujhe mat kehna ki tumhe nahi pata tha aaj Sunday hai?"
(Don't tell me you didn't know today is Sunday?)
"Ugh, baba!"
I whined dramatically, dragging my feet back across the living room before tossing myself down onto the sofa right beside him. I buried my face in the cushions, letting out a long, exhausted groan.
My father chuckled softly, his gaze softening with affection as he noted the dark circles and tired posture I was sporting. He reached out, gently rubbing my shoulder.
"Tum apni company se resign kyun nahi kar deti jab yeh tumhe itna thaka deti hai? Tum apni khud ki firm khol sakti ho."
(Why don't you resign from your company when it exhausts you to the core? You can open your own firm.)
I lifted my head from the cushion, looking at him earnestly.
"Mujhe pata hai, baba, lekin main aapke paise aur naam ka istemaal nahi karna chahti. Main apni mehnat se kamana chahti hoon."
(I know, Dad, but I don't want to use your money and fame. I want to earn things through my own hard work.)
A proud, tender smile bloomed on my father's face. He patted my head gently, his eyes filled with warmth.
"Yeh hui na meri beti wali baat!"
(That's my girl!)
I grinned, my dramatic energy returning as I sat up straight, tossing my head back proudly.
"Aur vaise bhi, main India ki number one firm mein kaam karti hoon, isse badi achievement kya hi hogi? Aur mujhe apni firm kholne se pehle achha experience lena hai."
(And anyway, I work in India's number one firm what bigger achievement could there be than this? Besides, I want to gain solid experience before opening my own firm.)
Satisfied with my argument, I stretched my arms wide, letting out a massive, bone-deep yawn that nearly cracked my jaw.
"Acha baba, main jaa rahi hoon sone ke liye."
(Okay Dad, I'm going back to sleep.)
He chuckled and shook his head, returning to his newspaper as I dragged myself back up the stairs.
Reaching my bedroom, I opened the door, marched straight to the bed, and face-planted directly into the middle of the mattress, my legs dangling casually over the edge. I closed my eyes, ready to surrender to the blissful sleep I had been robbed of earlier.
Ringtone blasts.
I let out a loud, agonized groan, smothering my face with a pillow. Who could possibly be calling me at this hour on a Sunday? I reached out blindly, grabbed the phone, and pried one eye open to look at the screen.
Caller ID: Ayush.
"Yeh kyun mujhe iss time phone kar raha hai?"
(Why is he calling me at this time?)
I whined inwardly, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before finally swiping to accept the call and bringing the phone to my ear.
"Hello, Riddhima?"
"Hello, Ayush."
I didn't want to linger on the phone, so I decided to get straight to the point before my sleep completely evaporated.
"Kuch kaam tha?"
(Did you need something?)
My voice was blunt, driven by sheer sleep deprivation. Ayush cleared his throat on the other end, his tone remarkably polite and gentle.
"Woh... tum chahti thi na ki hum ek doosre ko achhi tarah se jaanein? Toh maine aaj ek date plan ki hai. Aaj shaam chhe baje main tumhe pick up karne aa jaunga. Is that okay with you?"
(Well... you wanted us to get to know each other better, right? So I've planned a date for today. I'll come to pick you up at 6:00 PM today. Is that okay with you?)
The instinctive urge to decline flashed through my mind. All I wanted was to sleep for the next twelve hours. But then, his memory flickered in the dark corners of my thoughts the mystery man, the eyes that haunted my dreams, the hold he still had over my heart.
If I was ever going to move on, if I was ever going to build a normal, real-life future, I needed to step out of my past. I needed to give Ayush a real chance.
"Haan, thik hai. Main taiyar rahungi."
(Yes, alright. I'll be ready.)
I agreed, keeping the conversation short before hanging up the call. Tossing the phone aside, I finally let sleep claim me.
---
By five o'clock in the evening, my room looked like a hurricane had hit it. Clothes were strewn across the chair, makeup brushes scattered across the vanity, and perfume filled the air once again.
By six o'clock sharp, I stood in front of the mirror, taking in my final appearance. I was dressed in an elegant, full-length black dress with a striking open-back detail.
The fabric clung smoothly to my silhouette before falling gracefully to the floor. My hair was styled in soft, cascading waves over one shoulder, and my makeup was subtle yet refined, emphasizing my eyes and lips.
A horn honked gently outside. I grabbed my clutch, took a deep stabilizing breath, and walked downstairs to meet my date.
Ayush's slick black car was pulled up neatly at the doorstep. As I stepped out into the evening ambient light, he opened his driver-side door and stepped out to greet me.
He was impeccably dressed in a tailored three-piece suit a dark blue blazer layered over a crisp black button-down shirt, paired with matching blue trousers. His hair was meticulously styled back with gel, not a single strand out of place. As he walked toward me, his striking green eyes locked onto mine, scanning my appearance with an intense, unreadable gaze.
Under the sharp focus of his attention, a sudden rush of heat hit my cheeks. I lowered my gaze, feeling an awkward blush creeping up my neck.
He approached me slowly, deliberately closing the distance between us until there was barely a foot or two of space left. He reached out, taking my hand softly into his, his fingers brushing against my knuckles as he brought his gaze back to mine.
"You're looking gorgeous, baby."
The compliment was sweet, but the moment the nickname left his lips, an internal cringe violently rippled through my entire body. I utterly loathed pet names. Baby? Shaby? Absolute nightmare material. It felt unnatural, forced, and completely unearned.
I carefully extracted my hand from his grip, taking a subtle half-step back while hastily shifting the subject.
"Shall we go?"
He paused for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by my reaction, but quickly recovered with a polite nod.
"Yeah, let's go."
He turned around and walked back to the car, immediately sliding into the driver's seat. I stood on the pavement, staring at the closed passenger door in absolute disbelief. He was already sitting inside, adjusting his rear-view mirror.
"Baby, baitho na gaadi mein!"
(Baby, get in the car!)
He called out through the open window, offering me a pleasant smile.
I plastered a deeply awkward, strained smile on my face and moved toward the car, pulling the passenger door open myself. As I settled into the leather seat and pulled the seatbelt across my chest, a silent, chaotic monologue erupted in my mind.
"Humesha ladko ko ladkiyon ke liye door kholna chahiye! Ye toh bare minimum hai, yaar!"
(Guys should always open the door for girls! This is the absolute bare minimum, man!)
I screamed frantically inside my head, rolling my eyes internally.
"Huh, men!"
I started laughing like a lunatic in the privacy of my own thoughts, questioning all my life choices.
"Mujhe mera fictional man chahiye, kyunki real world ke men toh bilkul yuck hain!"
(I want my fictional man, because real-world men are totally yuck!)
I whined silently, staring out the window as Ayush navigated through the evening city traffic.
After a twenty-minute drive, the car smoothly pulled up to the valet stand of an upscale, high-end restaurant. Ayush killed the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and quickly opened his door. Seeing him hurry out, I realized he was probably trying to make up for his earlier mistake by rushing around to open my door this time.
Determined not to sit there awkwardly waiting, I beat him to the punch. I unlatched my door, swung it open, and stepped out onto the pavement just as he rounded the back of the car.
He stopped mid-stride, catching himself, and offered me another thoroughly awkward smile. I gave him a bright, innocent grin in return, pretending not to notice his slight embarrassment.
He stepped closer and offered his hand. I took it, and he gently intertwined his fingers with mine, leading us through the grand entrance of the establishment. The ambient lighting was dim and warm, smooth jazz playing quietly in the background as the maitre d' led us toward our reservation.
Ayush had booked a quiet, secluded corner table that offered a degree of privacy away from the main dining room floor.
We took our seats opposite each other. The waiter arrived moments later, placing crisp leather-bound menus in front of us.
"Order whatever you want," Ayush offered generously, opening his menu.
"Thank you," I replied, opening mine and scanning the elaborate list of gourmet dishes.
We placed our food orders with the waiter and settled into conversation. As the multi-course meal was served, the atmosphere relaxed significantly. Ayush was polite, articulate, and attentive. We talked about our respective jobs, shared childhood anecdotes, debated our favorite movies, and discussed our long-term goals and hobbies.
The food was exquisite, the conversation flowed naturally, and for the first time all evening, I found myself genuinely enjoying the date, letting my guard down step by step.
By the time dessert was finished, the restaurant had quieted down. The warm glow of the candlelight flickered softly between us, casting long shadows across the table.
Ayush shifted in his seat, extending his arm across the small table to cover my hand with his. His touch was warm and steady.
I looked up, meeting his gaze. He was staring directly into my eyes with an intensity that made the surrounding room fade into the background.
Slowly, deliberately, he began leaning across the narrow table, his eyes darting down to my lips before rising back to
meet my gaze. The intention was unmistakable he was leaning in for a kiss to end the perfect night.
I felt my heart skip a beat. This is it, I thought. A fresh start.
I took a soft breath and slowly closed my eyes, tilting my face upward slightly, waiting for his lips to meet mine.
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