he is totally workaholic person and gym freak never eat oliy food and no cheat day never touch smoking and drinking and totally vegetarian in fact whole house because they are totally shiv parvati devotee except him because he doesn't believe in love and god you know And her family also same pure vegetarian no smoking no drinking totally radha krishan devotee And her father is gym trainer and her brother is 21 years old a totally editior

Two souls raised in devotion. One immersed in silence, the other in chaos. Both untouched by love. Both unaware they are destined to rewrite each other's beliefs.

Continued from both perspectives

- Rudra Singh Rathore & Ishita Sharma.

RUDRA SINGH RATHORE

Location: Rathore Mansion - Private Dining Area, 8:00 p.m. The table is full of food. Traditional. Pure. Satvik. No garlic. No onion. Cooked exactly the way my mother wants. Because the Rathores are devoted to Shiv-Parvati. Every corner of the mansion echoes with mantras in the morning, bells in the evening. Except... my corner. I sit at the farthest end, dressed in black, eyes on the file in my hand instead of the roti on my plate.

"Rudra, at least have ghee once a week. Health ke liye accha hota hai,"

Mom says softly, sliding the bowl toward me. "No oil. No ghee. I've told the kitchen a hundred times."

I don't even look up. I eat clean. Boiled, grilled, raw. No sugar. No processed food. No drinking. No smoking. Never touched it. Never needed it. Never wanted it. I train at 4:30 a.m. daily. 90 minutes of lifting, 20 minutes of breathwork, 10 minutes of absolute silence. Discipline is my god. Pain is my prayer. And while everyone in this mansion bows to Shiv-Parvati, keeps fasts, chants mantras, lights diyas - I walk away from all of it. I loved once. Tara. My elder sister. My protector. I lost her during a Shiv pilgrimage. So no, I don't care for their rituals. Their gods. Dad tells people I'm a "karm-yogi", silent, focused. Akshat calls me "a robot in a Rolex". Jay teases that I need a "woman to mess me up." But no woman has ever touched me - not my body, not my soul. I am still. I am silent. I am untouched. Because somewhere, beneath all this strength... I am still scared to feel.

ISHITA SHARMA

Location: Kitchen Floor, Sharma House - with mom making rotis and bhaiya editing on his laptop

"Mummy, Ab phir roti ke saath salad?" I pout as I sit cross-legged, rolling my eyes while chopping cucumbers. "Because your dad will kill us if we don't follow his diet. And salad is holy in this house,"

Bhaiya mutters from the other side, laptop open, Premiere Pro on screen, fingers dancing. Our house smells like haldi, incense, and sometimes... sweat. Because Papa is a certified gym trainer - with abs even at 45. He trains early mornings, gives diet plans, and yes, he's the kind of dad who checks your lunchbox macros. Bhaiya - abhya- is 21, quiet, tech-savvy, and always glued to his editor's chair. He edits reels, wedding videos, fitness promos - even my makeup tutorials when he's in the mood. We are a Radha-Krishna-loving family. Morning bhajans, evening aartis, full fasts on Janmashtami and Ekadashi. No meat. No alcohol. Ever. Not even outside food unless it's been triple-checked. Birthday cakes? Homemade. Street food? Rare, and always "without onion and garlic, please." And honestly, I don't mind. I've grown up surrounded by love, by purity, by warmth. But sometimes... when I watch rom-coms alone at night, or when I see Prachi's boyfriend pick her up with flowers, or even when I hear soft ghazals on radio... Something inside me whispers, "Will I ever have someone who chooses me?" I've never had a boyfriend. Never even kissed. Not because I didn't want to - but because no one ever made me feel safe enough. Real enough. Wanted enough. So I laugh

more. Talk louder. Stay busy. But some nights, after applying my skincare and scrolling past another proposal video... I hug Kira and whisper to her, "I just want one person, bas ek, jo mujhe pyaar kare bilkul jaise Krishna ne Radha se kiya tha." Someone who doesn't want to change me. Just... see me.

Two Lives, Still Apart He lives in a fortress of silence, where god is dead and emotions are weakness. She lives in a temple of colors, prayers, and loud love... yet feels deeply lonely inside. Both raised with the same roots - devotion, discipline, and

RUDRA SINGH RATHORE

Location: Rathore Mansion - Private Gym, 5:00 a.m.

The steel clangs.

Barbell. 120 kilos.

Straight back. Controlled breath. No distraction.

I don't need music.

I don't need company.

The silence of iron and sweat is enough.

The mirror in front of me reflects not just my body but my control.

Broad shoulders. Veins tight against skin. Chest heaving but disciplined.

People call it strength.

I call it survival.

Because when I'm under this weight, I don't think about Tara.

I don't think about the gods my family prays to.

I don't think about the emptiness that sits at the dining table with me every night.

I only think about the count.

The lift.

The release.

90 minutes.

Every day.

Without fail.

"Bhaiya, at least Sunday ko rest kar lo,"

Jay had said yesterday, half-asleep at 6 a.m. when he passed by my gym.

I didn't answer. I never do.

Rest? Rest is for people who have the luxury of weakness.

I wipe sweat from my forehead, sip plain water, and check the clock.

5:00 a.m. sharp. The world outside is still dreaming.

But I don't dream.

I plan.

I build.

I control.

Love?

It's chaos.

It's weakness.

It's... faith.

And faith is exactly what killed Tara.

So I lock every door inside me tighter.

Because if I open even one, the whole fortress will fall.

ISHITA SHARMA

Location: Sharma House - Bedroom, 9:30 p.m.

The fairy lights above my bed flicker, soft yellow spilling across the walls.

Kira, my little german shepherd

, is curled beside me, paws twitching in a dream I'll never know.

I scroll through Instagram reels.

One by one.

A bride blushing in red lehenga.

A groom holding his wife's hand like she's the only woman in the world.

A song playing in the background - the kind that makes your chest ache.

I pause. Watch again.

And again.

It's silly. I know.

But somewhere inside, it hurts.

Like a tiny thorn in my heart that refuses to come out.

Because I want that.

Not the big wedding, not the designer lehenga, not even the 2 million views on a reel.

Just... the look.

That look in his eyes.

That look that says, You are mine. And I am yours.

"Pagli," Bhaiya's voice breaks my bubble. He's standing at the door, rubbing his eyes, hair messy from editing all evening.

"Phone bandh kar. Kal subah Papa ke saath cardio karna hai. Varna fir lecture milega."

I roll my eyes but put the phone aside.

"Bhaiya, tumhe kabhi... kabhi lagta hai ki koi tumhe chune, bas tumhe?"

I ask softly, tracing circles on Kira's fur.

He pauses.

Smiles faintly.

"Har kisi ko lagta hai. Par tujhe tension lene ki zarurat nahi. Tu itni loud hai, duniya tujhe ignore kar hi nahi sakti."

I laugh at his teasing, but when he shuts the door and leaves, the laugh dissolves into silence.

Because what if the world does ignore me?

What if no one ever sees past the laughter, the colors, the endless chatter?

What if no one ever touches the part of me that waits quietly for Radha-Krishna kind of love?

I hug Kira tighter.

Close my eyes.

And whisper into the dark,

"Krishna ji, bas ek insaan bhejna jo mujhe jaise hoon waisa hLocation: Rathore Mansion - Study, 11:00 p.m.

The world outside is silent, but my phone doesn't stop buzzing.

Emails. Proposals. Mergers.

I scroll through reports, highlight errors, sign documents.

My life is measured in numbers.

Profits. Percentages. Deadlines.

But sometimes, when the screen light hits too hard and my eyes burn, I lean back in my chair and stare out the giant glass window.

The mansion looks beautiful from here.

Lit diyas flickering in the courtyard.

Mom's soft mantras echoing in the background.

The whole family sitting together for night aarti.

Except me.

I can never sit there.

I can never fold my hands and pretend.

Because God didn't save Tara.

And if he couldn't save her, he doesn't exist.

So I work.

Because work doesn't betray.

Work doesn't vanish in a second, leaving you broken.

Work doesn't lie.

Akshat once told me, "Rudra bhaiya, aap chahe duniya jeet le, par ek din aap khud se haar jaoyge."

Maybe he's right.

Maybe he's wrong.

But for now... I'd rather lose to sleep than to love.

I shut the laptop at 11:45 sharp.

Another day gone.

Another day won.

Another day... empty.

ISHITA SHARMA

chaahe. Bas ek."

RUDRA SINGH RATHORE

Location: Rathore Mansion - Study, 11:00 p.m.

The world outside is silent, but my phone doesn't stop buzzing.

Emails. Proposals. Mergers.

I scroll through reports, highlight errors, sign documents.

My life is measured in numbers.

Profits. Percentages. Deadlines.

But sometimes, when the screen light hits too hard and my eyes burn, I lean back in my chair and stare out the giant glass window.

The mansion looks beautiful from here.

Lit diyas flickering in the courtyard.

Mom's soft mantras echoing in the background.

The whole family sitting together for night aarti.

Except me.

I can never sit there.

I can never fold my hands and pretend.

Because God didn't save Tara.

And if he couldn't save her, he doesn't exist.

So I work.

Because work doesn't betray.

Work doesn't vanish in a second, leaving you broken.

Work doesn't lie.

Akshat once told me, "Rudra bhaiya, aap chahe duniya jeet le, par ek din aap khud se haar jaoyge."

Maybe he's right.

Maybe he's wrong.

But for now... I'd rather lose to sleep than to love.

I shut the laptop at 11:45 sharp.

Another day gone.

Another day won.

Another day... empty.

ISHITA SHARMA

Location: Sharma House - Rooftop, 6:00 a.m.

The sky is pink. The kind of pink that poets write about.

I sit on the rooftop, knees pulled to my chest, hair messy, holding a cup of ginger tea.

Papa is downstairs, training his clients. I can hear the echo of dumbbells hitting the floor.

Mummy is lighting incense in the temple.

Bhaiya is probably still asleep, hugging his laptop.

And me?

I'm just here.

Watching the world wake up.

Wondering if someone, somewhere, is also looking at the same sky.

I don't know why I feel it.

But deep in my chest, I know.

Someone exists.

Someone who will look at me once and never look away.

Maybe he's far.

Maybe he's near.

Maybe he's staring at the same dawn but from behind walls I cannot imagine.

But he exists.

And when our paths collide...

everything I believe will be tested.

Everything he denies will be rewritten.

TWO LIVES, STILL APART

He lifts weights to forget.

She folds her hands to remember.

He denies faith.

She breathes it.

He trusts nothing but discipline.

She waits for love like it's written in the stars.

Two souls. Same roots.

Yet galaxies apart.

They don't know it yet.

But fate has already placed the arrow.

And when it strikes-

silence will meet laughter.

Fortress will meet temple.

And two untouched hearts will finally bleed... together.