❝ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔'𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 - 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒈𝒍𝒚. ❞
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Sometimes love doesn't knock on the right door. Sometimes it slips in through a misdial, a l...
4K words! No... 4296 TO BE EXACT!! Still not happy with the chapter but wanted to compensate the delay with a longer chapter. Flow flow mein jyaada hi ho gaya😂
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Author's POV-
(1 week later...)
He awoke before the sun cracked the sky. It was 3:59 a.m.
The room lay in twilight, a liminal space between night's end and dawn's promise. That in-between hour when time held its breath. Shadows draped across the pale walls like sleep that had just slipped away—lingering, but no longer here.
Curtains billowed gently as a cool breeze entered—fresh, sharp, precise—announcing the arrival of something momentous. It slipped through the fabric and stirred the covers, dancing in the silence that had swallowed the house. The fan above groaned softly, echoing the unrest in his chest, as if every spin held a fragment of his racing heart.
Arjun didn't move—not immediately. He simply stared at the darkened ceiling, body cocooned in the kind of stillness that only comes before something monumental. One pillow was tucked beneath his chin, clutched tightly, another wrapped by his legs, his entire body curled inward. Like a child folding into safety. Like someone trying to hold all his scattered pieces close.
This was not habit. This was memory.
It was the shape his childhood self took when everything felt too big. Too final. The pose he always returned to when life tilted at the edge of change and whispered, "Today... or never."
Back then, it was exam results. The final cricket trial. His first school match. His father's proud eyes. And now—now it was something else entirely. Bigger. Sharper.
The mattress felt cooler than usual beneath him. A breeze, quiet and unexpected, slipped through the slightly ajar window, brushing against his ankle and stirring the edge of the curtain. The fabric fluttered, slow and shy, like it didn't want to wake the rest of the room.
Everything was still. But inside him?
He was anything but still.
A battlefield brewed behind closed eyes. Thoughts clashed and collided. Confidence and doubt played tug-of-war. He wasn't afraid—no, fear had a sound, a shadow. This was quieter. This was tension pulled so tight it became silent.
And that silence was deafening.
In the faint haze of that early hour, with the world still fast asleep, Arjun lay there breathing in the weight of it all.
The air carried the scent of night's end—cool, earthy, expectant. As though even the wind knew something was about to change.
Today... or never.
Those words carried a weight that made every breath heavier.
