The Dance Of Destiny

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨 : 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

I mustered a half-hearted nod. "Yeah, I had gotten a fever," I muttered, my disinterest evident.

Her lips curved into a sympathetic smile before a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. "Ohh," she responded, her voice laced with playful teasing, "no worries, aise bhi, bukhar to tere ko bahut pehle se hi chadha hai!"

("No worries, anyway, you've been feverish for a long time!")

My eyebrows shot up in surprise at her remark, prompting me to question, "What?"

With a chuckle, she leaned in closer, her teasing tone accentuating her words, "Pyaar ka bukhar."

("The fever of love.")

I turned to face her, my frustration simmering beneath the surface as I demanded, "What the hell is going on in your head, huh?"

Keerti met my gaze squarely, exhaling a sigh before placing her hands on her waist in a gesture of exasperation.

"Parth, are you really a fool or do you just pretend to be?" she retorted, her tone edged with a hint of irritation.

She didn't pause for my response, continuing with her probing questions. "Don't you have feelings for Sharvi?"

Her words hit me like a sudden gust of wind, leaving me momentarily stunned. "No, of course not," I protested, my voice tinged with disbelief, "we are just friends!"

But even as the words escaped my lips, a nagging doubt crept into my mind. Was I trying to convince her, or myself?

Whatever, but, Parth, remember, Sharvi and you are just friends.

She pressed on, her voice tinged with scepticism, "Of course, you are just friends! But don't you think you look at her a little too long to be just friends?"

Her words struck a chord within me. Realisation dawned upon me like a cold wave crashing over my senses.

Indeed!

After all, I had just spent the past one complete hour lost in her, my eyes unable to tear themselves away from her captivating presence. I felt a pang of guilt wash over me once again.

"Are you understanding?" Keerti persisted, her tone insistent.

I attempted to deflect her probing question with a light-hearted remark, "Come on, yaar, Keerti, nice joke, huh!"

But deep down, I knew her words had struck a chord, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me.

"Joke! I mean, you, dude, you're hopeless! If you think I came here one night just before my wedding to joke around with you, then you're crazy! Anyways, think whatever you want! What do I care about? I'd rather go cry with my mom than talk to you!" she replied irritably.

Hearing Keerti mention crying, I suddenly recalled Sharvi's tears from the previous day and a surge of concern washed over me. I had wanted to inquire about the cause of her distress but hesitated, fearful of causing her further pain. As Keerti turned to leave, I reached out and grasped her arm, halting her departure.

"Wait, one more thing," I interjected.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper, "Wasn't Sharvi supposed to get married five years ago?"

Keerti's eyes widened in surprise, her disbelief evident as she responded, "How the hell do you know this!"

"Tell me, her wedding was supposed to happen, right?" I pressed gently.

Keerti's expression softened, a flicker of sympathy crossing her features. "Yeah, but listen, Parth, getting married that year was the worst decision of her life! I don't know how you got to know about it, but please don't mention it in front of her."