When Our Worlds Collided

chapter 19

He opened the door and turned back, finding Shehnaaz still staring at the floor, completely lost in her thoughts thoughts that had been shaken ever since the conversation downstairs. “Come, Shehnaaz,” he said quietly, and she followed him inside without really seeing the room she was stepping into. But Sidharth felt everything. His heartbeat had been loud in his ears from the moment he decided this  from the moment he chose to bring her into this room… his room… the only place in the house that held untouched pieces of his mother. No one stayed long here. No one touched his things. Not Vani, not even his father unless necessary. This room was his sanctuary, his memory, his anchor… and today, he was letting her in. Shehnaaz  the girl he silently, fiercely, undeniably claimed somewhere inside his heart. He walked her to his study table, the same table where his mother once sat beside him, the same chair he guarded so carefully. He pulled it out gently and said, “Sit here.” And she did  quietly, obediently, unaware of the storm her presence stirred in him. Seeing her sit in that chair… his chair… his mother’s place… it felt too right. Too intimate. Too much. Shehnaaz still looked shaken, her lashes lowered, her breath uneven, her mind clearly somewhere else  replaying the painful truth she had just spoken to his father. He could feel her sadness, the heaviness clinging to her like a shadow. So he steadied his voice, softened it just for her, and said, “Hmm… Shehnaaz, just sit here for now. I’ll be back in a moment, okay?” She nodded faintly, still not realising the significance of the space she was sitting in… still not realising the significance she held for him.

The moment the chair beneath her shifted, Shehnaaz finally looked up… and froze. This wasn’t Vani’s room. This wasn’t any guest space. As her gaze travelled, realisation hit her like a quiet shock  this was Sidharth’s room. His room. She stood up abruptly, heartbeat stumbling. How did she miss it earlier? The vastness, the stillness, the intimidating neatness… everything felt like him. The dark wooden shelves lined with trophies and medals. The side wall opening into a small private terrace garden. The perfectly made bed with a large black-and-white portrait of him hanging above it sharp jaw, intense eyes, that same unreadable expression he carried even now. Her eyes moved slowly, uncertainly, until they landed on something that pulled her forward without thought. On the bedside table, in a silver frame, was a picture of a woman. Beautiful. Graceful. Smiling softly. His mother. Without thinking, Shehnaaz reached out and lifted it, hands trembling at her own boldness. The warmth in the woman’s eyes was the same warmth she sometimes sensed behind Sidharth’s gaze… even if he hid it from the world. She looked at the gently smiling face  the softness of her eyes, the calmness of her smile, the unmistakable resemblance to both Sidharth and Vani and her own eyes softened. “Kitni pyaari hain…” she whispered to herself.

“Jitni pyaari thi… utna hi pyaar deti thi,” Sidharth said gently. Shehnaaz startled taken aback, caught off guard, her breath hitching because she hadn’t heard him enter. He walked toward her slowly and carefully took the frame from her hands, his eyes softening with memories. “Unki poori duniya… bas hum dono ke aas-paas hi ghoomti thi.”he continued, voice lower now, almost reverent. “Even today… kabhi kabhi unki presence feel hoti hai. Vani was too small, par main… main unka sab kuch tha.”

Something in those words that loneliness, that love  opened a door inside Shehnaaz she didn’t know existed. Without realising, she whispered back, slipping into her own memories, “Meri mumma bhi… bohot tasty food banati thi. halwa toh… out of the world.” She blinked rapidly, her voice shaking but flowing for the first time. “Simmi di looks exactly like her. Same smile. Same eyes.” She kept talking  softly, nervously, openly  as if a dam had broken inside her. She didn’t even realise she had walked back to his bed and sat down on it, settling there comfortably, unknowingly claiming the one place nobody had ever touched. She ran her fingers absently on his blanket, on the edge of his pillow, on the soft folds  each movement tightening something deep inside Sidharth. His bed. His room. His world. And she looked like she fit here perfectly. It was intimate… too intimate… and yet so unbearably right that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.