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The Maheshwari household was, as always, buzzing with chaos. Laughter, bickering, and loud conversations filled the living room as everyone sat together, engaged in their usual banter.

Samiksha sat cross-legged on the couch, munching on a packet of chips while eavesdropping on her parents’ conversation. Her father, flipping through the newspaper, suddenly cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention.

"We have to go to the Rajvansh’s place tomorrow," he announced. "They’ve organized a small pooja, and we’ve all been invited."

The moment the words left his mouth, Samiksha froze mid-bite. Rajvansh’s? That meant Abeer’s house. Her heart did a somersault, and she immediately sat up straight, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"We are going? Like, for sure?" she asked, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

Her mother gave her a side-eye "Nahi, hum toh sirf isliye bata rahe hai taaki tum unke Ghar ka jhaadu-poocha karko aao Pooja ke pehle."

Samiksha ignored the sarcasm, already lost in the fantasy of seeing Abeer in a traditional kurta. Would he wear white again? The way his hands looked in those rolled-up sleeves—Stop, Samiksha, STOP!

Meanwhile, Avya, who had been scrolling through her phone, looked up with equal enthusiasm. The Rajvanshs were close family friends, and she had always admired their warmth and hospitality. Plus, it would give her a chance to meet Ekansh. Not that she’d admit it out loud.

"We should reach early and help out," Avya suggested.

Samiksha, however, had other priorities. "Or we could reach fashionably late, you know, so that when I enter, Abeer is just—"

"—Rolling his eyes at you?" Avya smirked, cutting her off.

Samiksha huffed. "Shut up."

The night passed in excited anticipation. Samiksha barely slept, going through her wardrobe multiple times, trying to pick the perfect outfit.

---

The next morning, the Maheshwaris arrived at the Rajvansh house. It was grand and welcoming, decorated beautifully for the pooja. As soon as they stepped inside, Samiksha’s eyes darted around, searching for him.

And then, she saw him.

Abeer stood near the entrance, dressed in a white kurta, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, his veins subtly visible. His usually neat hair was slightly tousled, and he looked effortlessly breathtaking.

Samiksha felt her stomach flip. Her palms got clammy, and she suddenly became hyper-aware of every movement she made. Aarohi, standing beside her, noticed the shift in her demeanor and smirked.

"You’re staring," Aarohi whispered, nudging her elbow.

"I’m not," Samiksha protested weakly, eyes still glued to Abeer.

"Right. And I’m not standing next to you."

Before Samiksha could retort, Abeer’s gaze lifted, and their eyes met. His usual composed expression faltered for a second, something unreadable flickering in his eyes as he took her in.

She was wearing a pastel pink kurta, delicate embroidery adorning the fabric. Her hair was left open, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves. She looked… different. Elegant. Breathtaking.

Abeer’s heart skipped a beat before he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as if trying to suppress the sudden rush of emotions.

Samiksha turned to Aarohi in panic. "Did he just—"

"Oh, he definitely just," Aarohi grinned, enjoying every second of Samiksha’s flustered state.

Amidst the chaos of the pooja preparations, Aarohi and Vidyut found themselves away from the crowd, standing near the back garden.

"You look beautiful," Vidyut said casually, his voice softer than usual.

Aarohi, caught off guard, raised an eyebrow. "Trying to be smooth, are we?"

Vidyut chuckled. "No, just stating facts."

For the first time in a long time, Aarohi had no witty comeback. Instead, she found herself holding his gaze for a beat too long, feeling something stir within her.

---

Inside, Avya had already immersed herself in helping the Rajvansh women with the arrangements, laughing and joking as she worked.

"You’re just like a daughter to us," Abeer’s mother smiled, patting Avya’s head fondly. "Beta, can you call Ekansh from his room? He must be lazing around as usual."

Avya hesitated for a moment but nodded. Making her way upstairs, she knocked on Ekansh’s door.

"Come in," came his lazy voice from inside.

She pushed the door open—and immediately regretted it.

Ekansh stood in the middle of the room, completely shirtless. His damp hair suggested he had just showered, and his well-defined muscles flexed slightly as he ruffled his hair.

Avya’s breath hitched, and she turned instantly, facing the other way. "Uh—I—your mom is calling you," she stammered, her voice suddenly ten times softer.

Ekansh looked up, expecting to see Abeer. But instead, his eyes landed on her.

Avya.

His heart did something weird—something that had never happened before. A slow, involuntary smile crept onto his face.

"You’re blushing," he teased, stepping closer.

"I—I am not," she stuttered, still refusing to turn around.

Ekansh, being himself, found her flustered state utterly amusing. Without thinking much, he reached out, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her back against him.

Avya gasped as her back met his bare chest, heat radiating from his skin. She was so close that she could feel his heartbeat. Her own heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

"Still not blushing?" he murmured near her ear.

Avya squeezed her eyes shut. Oh god, help me.

Before either of them could process what was happening, a voice from downstairs called out, breaking the moment.

Avya practically ran out of the room, leaving behind a very amused and slightly flustered Ekansh.

Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. "Interesting," he muttered, throwing on a shirt before heading downstairs, a small smirk still playing on his lips.

.............................. ... .. .

The pooja was proceeding smoothly—well, as smoothly as any Indian family gathering could. The priest was chanting, the incense filled the air with a divine fragrance, and everyone sat obediently in a semi-circle. But then, just as the priest asked Abeer’s father to pour ghee into the sacred fire, chaos unfolded.

Instead of picking up the silver container of ghee, Mr. Rajvansh absentmindedly grabbed a bowl of halwa that had been kept beside it. And before anyone could stop him, he tipped the entire thing into the fire.

A second of stunned silence passed.

Then—WHOOSH!

A small flame burst up, and the priest let out a scandalized gasp, his eyes widening in horror.

"Hai bhagwan! Yeh kya kar diya?" Abeer’s mother shrieked.

"What—what happened?" Mr. Rajvansh looked around, confused, while the Maheshwaris tried (and failed) to hold back their laughter.

"The fire just got blessed with extra sweetness," Samiksha whispered to Avya, who snorted.

Vidyut, being the menace he was, leaned towards Aarohi. "So technically, this is now a dessert bonfire."

Aarohi pursed her lips, suppressing a giggle. "Should we get marshmallows?"

Meanwhile, the priest, looking thoroughly scandalized, was mumbling prayers to neutralize whatever had just happened.

"Papa, how do you even mistake halwa for ghee?" Abeer asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It was in a silver bowl! Everything looks the same!"

The families erupted into laughter, the air filled with good-natured teasing. Even the priest eventually cracked a smile, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

---

As the Maheshwaris were preparing to leave, Abeer stood near the entrance, bidding everyone a warm goodbye. He smiled at Avya, nodded at Mr. and Mrs. Maheshwari, exchanged teasing remarks with Aarohi—but when his eyes met Samiksha’s, something shifted.

He didn’t say a word.

He just stood there, staring at her, as if time had frozen.

Samiksha felt her heart pound against her ribs. The way he looked at her, with that unreadable yet intense expression, sent a shiver down her spine.

And in that moment, an unspoken vow settled between them.

No words were exchanged, yet everything was felt.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Abeer gave a small nod before stepping back.

Samiksha swallowed, forcing herself to turn away, but the moment stayed with her long after she had left.

---

Back at home, in their room, Avya was practically glowing with excitement as she animatedly narrated the Ekansh incident to Samiksha.

"And then—then he just pulled me back, and my back was against his bare chest," she emphasized dramatically, clutching her heart. "Samiksha, do you understand? Bare. Chest."

Samiksha grinned, hugging her pillow. "Di, you are so in love."

Avya paused. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as she considered the words. Then, exhaling softly, she nodded. "Yeah. I think I am."

---

Meanwhile, at the Rajvansh house, Abeer was pacing his room, his thoughts a complete mess.

Why had he looked at Samiksha like that? Why had his heart skipped when he saw her in that pink kurta? And why—why—was her face the only thing replaying in his mind?

He shook his head. No. This wasn’t happening. It was just a fleeting moment.

But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself.

Vidyut was walking through the park, mindlessly scrolling through his phone when—bam!—he collided into someone.

"Ugh, are you blind?" came an irritated voice.

He looked up. Aarohi.

For a second, neither of them moved. There was something about these random encounters—always so unexpected, yet always so… charged.

Before the tension could build further, a group of kids ran past them, shrieking. One of them tugged at Vidyut’s sleeve.

"Bhaiya, will you play Ice Water with us?"

Aarohi smirked. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Vidyut scoffed. "You wish."

And so, the game began.

Laughter and playful screams echoed in the air as they ran through the park, dodging and chasing. At one point, Aarohi was sprinting towards Vidyut, both of them completely in sync with their childlike excitement.

Then—without thinking—Vidyut grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into the air.

For a split second, it was perfect. Her laughter mixed with his, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

But then reality sank in.

His arms loosened, and—thud!—she landed straight on her back.

Aarohi gasped. "Vidyut!"

"Shit. Shit. That was not—"

"You threw me!"

"Technically, I just… let go?"

"I’m going to kill you."

And just like that, the enemies were back to enemy-ing.

---

That night, Samiksha sat on her bed, her diary open in front of her. She traced her fingers over an old poem she had written about Abeer.

You are the storm I never saw coming,

and the calm I never expected to need.

You walk in, and the world feels smaller,

because my universe is standing right in front of me.

Sighing, she grabbed her pen and began writing again.

Today, you were the moonlight in a white kurta,

silver threads whispering against your skin.

I looked at you, and my heart wrote poetry,

but my lips remained silent.

Once she finished, she reached for a small box tucked inside her closet. Inside were countless folded letters—letters she had written to Abeer but never sent.

She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began writing.

---

Dear Abeer,

I don’t know why I do this. Maybe because I’m too much of a coward to say these things out loud. Maybe because I don’t have the courage to look into your eyes and tell you that I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

You looked so… ridiculously hot today. And I hate that you talk to everyone but not me. I was right there, waiting—hoping—you’d say something. Anything. Maybe a compliment, maybe just my name. But you didn’t.

Do you know how unfair that is?

I wanted to tell you that I’m falling for you. Every day. Every time you smile, every time you roll your eyes, every time you exist. And it’s so frustrating because you don’t even notice.

Next time, when you wear that kurta again, I swear I’m going to kiss you. I don’t care if my heart explodes.

But for now, I’ll just keep writing these letters.

Yours (even if you don’t know it yet),

Samiksha.

---

Folding the letter neatly, she placed it in the box and closed the lid, a soft smile on her face.

One day. One day she’d tell him.

Just… not today.

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