Ishita Sharma - My Perspective

Location: Outside Bangla Sahib Gurudwara, 9:20 AM

An hour.

An entire hour of sitting inside peace.

I bowed my head, folded my hands, and prayed like I always do-like I'm speaking to a best friend I can't see but always believe is listening.

I prayed for strength, for dreams... and yes-for love.

That magical love. The kind that turns hearts inside out.

The kind I read in books... feel in songs... see in Prachi's eyes when she talks about her boyfriend.

And his face kept flashing in my mind.

His silence.

His gaze.

His presence.

Why?

Why is someone I don't even know... affecting my prayers?

I walked out of the gurudwara barefoot, dupatta still covering my hair, feeling calm but strangely heavy-hearted. The marble under my feet was warm now from the sun, and I blinked as the light hit my eyes-

And then it happened

There he was.

Helping his dadi into the backseat of the car again.

Bent slightly, one arm on the door, other holding her hand gently.

He didn't look heartless now.

Not cold. Not intimidating.

He looked... soft. Human.

And then... he looked up.

Through the car window.

Our eyes met.

Again.

My breath caught.

His stare was deep. Unreadable. Focused.

For one long moment, we said nothing, did nothing.

Just watched.

Like some invisible thread kept pulling us to each other every time we drifted apart.

Then I blinked.

The moment shattered.

I turned away.

Slipped on my sandals and walked towards the metro station, hugging my dupatta tightly around me.

My heart pounding.

I didn't look back.

But God, did I want to.

Rudra Singh Rathore - His Perspective

Location: Inside SUV, Bangla Sahib Gate, 9:20 AM

"Dadi, sambhaal ke..." I said gently, holding her hand as she settled inside.

She smiled, patting my wrist. "Tu bilkul Tara jaisa hai... same calm nature. Same way of holding my hand. Bas woh rab vich bahut vishvaas karti thi, tu nahin karta..."

I didn't respond.

Because at that exact moment...

She walked out.

I didn't have to look.

My eyes just found her.

I was inside the car now, but I turned slightly, resting my hand on the window ledge.

She stepped out with folded hands, dupatta still on her head, walking slowly, gracefully. There was something pure in her.

Something untouched by the world I belong to.

And then...

She looked at me.

Just one glance.

And everything around us blurred.

No noise. No chaos. No Delhi traffic.

Only us.

Again.

My heart did something it never does-it clenched.

We stared.

Seconds passed.

She blinked first.

And just like that... she walked away.

Like the first time.

Like she always would.

Until I stopped letting her.

My fingers curled slightly on the window ledge. Dadi was speaking to me, but I didn't hear.

I kept watching her retreating figure.

She didn't look back once.

But I did.

And the strange thing?

Even though she walked away again...

I felt a little more alive.

Two glances. Two silences.

One story starting to write itself.

Rudra Singh Rathore - His Perspective

Time: 12:47 AM

Location: Private gym inside Rathore Mansion

The weights clanked down on the floor with a heavy thud, sweat trailing from his temple to the base of his neck.

12:47 AM.

Everyone in the house asleep.

But not him.

No.

Sleep had stopped being his companion the night he saw her.

The girl from the temple.

The girl with eyes that didn't fear him... didn't try to seduce him...

The girl who simply looked, and left.

He adjusted the barbell again, gritting his teeth and pushing through another set of chest presses.

Why. The. Hell. Can't. I. Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

He slammed the barbell back into the rack and sat up, wiping his face with the towel around his neck. His breath heavy. His jaw clenched.

His reflection in the glass wall stared back.

A man people feared.

A man called cold, unreachable, untouchable.

A man who built his entire world on logic, power, and silence.

And yet here he was.

At nearly 1 AM.

Unable to stop obsessing over a girl he hadn't even spoken more than two words to.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Her face.

The softness.

The kindness.

That stupidly innocent way she said "thank you" a dozen times before running up the temple stairs like she was in a Bollywood film.

He let out a frustrated sigh.

"What if she has a boyfriend?"

The thought slipped in before he could stop it.

No.

No way.

"She looked too young. Barely twenty. Maybe younger."

"Girls like that don't settle. They flirt, they explore, they fall in love too fast."

But then again...

She didn't flirt.

She didn't smile like the girls in parties did.

She didn't try to touch him, didn't whisper compliments, didn't try to trap him in a game of seduction like he was used to.

No.

She just... stared.

And walked away.

Like he was no one.

"What if she... doesn't like me?"

That stupid voice again.

He stood up, irritated with his own thoughts, grabbing a resistance band and pulling it hard-until his muscles ached.

"What if she hates men like me?"

Rich.

Emotionless.

Heartless.

A man who doesn't believe in God, or love, or fate.

What if she sees all of that and walks away?

His heart thudded louder.

He dropped the band.

He never cared about anyone's opinion before.

He never cared if someone liked him.

Admired him.

Feared him.

But with her...

The thought of her turning away from him with disgust made something twist sharply in his chest.

She didn't look like the kind of girl who chased power or money.

She wasn't impressed by his imported car or his Rolex or the guards that opened doors for him.

No.

She smiled at her flowers.

She bowed her head in temples.

She looked at the world with wonder, not calculation.

What if she's the kind of girl who'd never choose someone like him?

He stared down at the dumbbells on the floor.

What the hell was he doing?

He didn't drink.

Didn't smoke.

Didn't party.

Didn't date.

He was 25, and never even held a girl's hand with emotion.

He didn't believe in love.

He hated temples.

He hated noise.

So why...

Why is she still in his head?

He clenched his jaw, flicked off the gym lights, and headed toward the private stairs to his room.

Tomorrow, he decided.

He'll find a reason to get near her.

Even if it means pretending it's for business.

Even if it means doing something totally irrational.

He didn't know what would happen next.

But he knew one thing:

She's already in his blood.

And he's not letting her go.