Hey lovelies! 💕

This was the very first touch, the very first spark between Rudra and Ishita — a moment where even time itself paused. 🌸

If you felt the magic, the goosebumps, or even just smiled while reading… do let me know! Your comments, likes, and shares mean the world to me and motivate me to keep weaving their story with more love and intensity. 🥺💖

Tell me — did this moment give you filmy chills? 👀🔥

Stay tuned, because their journey is only just beginning…

They still don’t know each other’s names. But destiny has made the first move.

ISHITA SHARMA

Shiv Mandir – Marble Steps, under temple lights and fallen petals

My heart is still pounding. Not just fast — but violently, as if it wants to tear itself out and fall into his hands.

We’re still… staring. Breathing the same air.

As if time has no permission to move until we blink.

But then reality crashes down like a cymbal.

I blink. I breathe.

We’re in front of a temple. A crowd. Shivratri.

And I’m literally half-wrapped in a stranger’s arms.

Oh my god.

My cheeks burn. My spine stiffens.

I quickly grab his shoulder — large, muscular, firm under my fingers — just to balance myself and not fall again.

“I—I’m so sorry, I slipped— I wasn’t watching my step. Sorry! And thank you! Thank you so much! I mean seriously, that would’ve been such a bad fall and—”

I’m rambling.

Words spilling. Heart racing.

His face… still silent. Unreadable.

He’s just watching me.

Those ocean blue eyes — like glass over a storm — don’t blink, don’t shift.

They just see me.

I bite my lower lip nervously. My fingers are still brushing his shirt.

I let go like I touched fire.

“Sorry again. And... thank you. Really.”

I nod awkwardly, still holding the flower basket in my other hand.

He says nothing.

No smile. No nod.

Just silence.

But something about that silence feels louder than words ever could.

Still breathless, still burning from inside, I finally turn away, my dupatta fluttering with the breeze, and I rush up the stairs toward the temple again.

Each step feels like walking through thunder.

My hands shake as I hold the basket.

My ears ring with my own heartbeat.

My lips part again and again as if I want to say something that doesn’t exist yet.

I don’t even know his name.

But I felt everything.

Rudra Sighn rathor

Shiv Mandir Stairs – Frozen in the aftermath

Her fingers press into my shoulder for balance — soft, frantic, electric.

And then…

She speaks.

A flurry of apologies, thank-yous, nervous stammering — like monsoon rain spilling out after a long summer.

Sweet. Rushed. Genuine.

And all I do is stare.

Because I’m not ready.

Not ready for how this stranger feels more familiar than my own reflection.

Her voice dances.

Her eyes lower.

Her lips move in rhythm, but I can’t absorb the words — only the feel of them.

I should speak. I should nod. I should say “it’s okay.”

But I don’t.

Because I know if I open my mouth right now… something inside me will shatter.

So I stay silent.

Afraid that any sound will break the spell.

She clutches her flower basket tightly, says one more soft “thank you,” and then — she turns.

The back of her anarkali brushes against my thigh as she climbs the stairs, head down, breath uneven.

Each step she takes feels like someone tugging me away from the safest place I’ve ever been.

I don't know her name.

I don't know why she affects me like this.

But I know I’ve never felt anything like this before.

Not in boardrooms.

Not in gyms.

Not in all the billion-dollar moments I’ve ever had.

And the maddening part?

She’s just gone.

Vanished into the temple. Into the crowd. Into the echo of bells and drums.

I don’t move.

I just stand there — chest tight, hands clenched, brain blank.

And for the first time in 20 years…

I wonder if maybe, just maybe —

God isn’t a myth