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Parth's POV
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I gently pulled the curtains aside, shielding her delicate face from the intrusive rays of the setting sun, ensuring she could rest undisturbed. Mesmerised by her presence, I lingered, as though committing each contour of her face to memory.
Time drifted by unnoticed until a subtle movement stirred her from slumber. In that instant, a surge of guilt compelled me to abandon the sofa and claim a seat on the edge of the bed.
She woke up, her eyelashes delicately brushing against her flushed cheeks as she rubbed her eyes in a gesture so innocent. Her tousled hair framed her face in a dishevelled halo, adding to her ethereal beauty.
"Sorry," she mumbled, her voice still drowsy with sleep. "I don't know how I dozed off."
"It's alright," I responded softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
Her brows furrowed in concern as she asked, "Are you feeling any better now? Has your fever gone down?"
I nodded, grateful for her care and attention, as a sense of relief washed over me.
"Did you just wake up?" she inquired, her gaze searching mine for any sign of discomfort or distress.
Shit!
I instinctively touched my neck, as I swiftly lied, hoping my words sounded convincing enough, "Yeah, just about four or five minutes ago."
As the lie slipped from my lips, I couldn't shake the guilt gnawing at my conscience.
I mentally berated myself. But, the thought of confessing that I had spent the entire hour watching over her as she slept filled me with dread.
What would she think of me? A creep, surely.
She interrupted my tumultuous thoughts with a gentle rise from the sofa, as she announced her departure from the room with a soft smile.
I couldn't help but smile, the memory of her peaceful slumber etched into my mind like a cherished painting.
Watching her sleep, her looking all angelic and serene, stirred a sense of warmth and contentment within me that words couldn't capture. In that moment, as I gazed upon her, all the chaos of the world seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound sense of tranquillity and peace.
Later, that night, I was standing in the dimly lit corridors of the hotel, when a familiar voice cut through the silence.
"Hi! Heard you were sick?" I heard Keerti inquire softly, her concern palpable in her gentle voice.
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."
"But what the hell had happened?" I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice.
Did the man she was supposed to marry hurt her? Did he inflict wounds upon her heart that cut so deep, they shattered her faith in the very concept of love?
The thought didn't go well with me.
The mere notion that the man Sharvi was supposed to marry might have caused her harm tore at my heartstrings, igniting a surge of protective anger within me. The very idea of someone inflicting pain upon her, in any form, filled me with a righteous fury that pulsed through my veins like molten lava, demanding justice for the wounds she may have endured.
"It's not my story to tell," Keerti replied somberly before turning away and disappearing down the corridor, leaving me alone with my unanswered questions and a gnawing sense of unease.
The next morning, as the clock struck five, I stirred from my slumber and emerged from my room, the faint light of dawn casting a soft glow upon the surroundings.
Stepping into the hallway, my gaze fell upon Sharvi, clad in a pristine white suit, her presence like a beacon of serenity in the early morning haze. A smile danced across both our lips as our eyes met, a silent exchange of greetings and well-wishes passing between us.
Returning her smile, I replied, "Good morning, Sharvi. Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you for asking."
Then, unable to contain my curiosity, I inquired, "Are you going somewhere?"
"Yeah," she nodded, a wistful note tingling her words, "there's a famous temple around here. Don't know if I'll be here again or not! So, thought of..."
"Can I join you, please?" I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could second-guess myself.
She looked at me for a second before whispering, "Okay."
"Let me take a bath!" I quickly suggested.
"Okay," she agreed softly, "I'll wait for you here."
"Why wait outside? You can wait in my room," I suggested.
"But..." she began to protest before hesitantly relenting, "okay, come fast."
As I was bathing, the sound of her gentle knock on the door pierced through the steam-filled bathroom. "Parth, come fast!" her voice called out, carrying a sense of urgency that spurred me to quicken my pace.
"Yeah, yeah, coming!" I called back, hastily drying myself off and slipping into a full-sleeved t-shirt and pants within the confines of the bathroom. Stepping out, I found Sharvi gazing at her reflection in the mirror.
I too walked towards the mirror. We stood, side by side, staring at our reflections.
As I looked into the mirror, I couldn't help but notice how our reflections were perfectly aligned, the subtle height difference adding a touch of symmetry to the scene. Her delicate fingers delicately adjusted the folds of her dupatta, while I ran a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to tame the unruly strands. There was an undeniable sense of domesticity in the air, as if we were already a couple, effortlessly falling into a rhythm of shared moments.
The lingering scent of her smell enveloped me once more, a subtle yet intoxicating reminder of her presence lingering in the air. It danced around me, teasing my senses and evoking a myriad of emotions that I struggled to contain within the confines of my heart.
A fleeting smile graced my lips, but before I could linger in the reverie, she moved away, breaking through my daydream, serving as a gentle reminder that what I saw was merely a figment of my imagination.
With a resigned sigh, I cautioned myself once again, not to cross my boundaries.
My gaze drifted away and it was drawn to the delicate anklet peeking out from beneath the hem of her pants. The anklet featured a silver chain intricately adorned with filigree patterns and dangling charms, accentuating the grace with which she moved.
We both stepped outside and made our way towards the temple, opting for a taxi.
In the sacred confines of the temple, Sharvi handed over the offerings she had purchased outside to the priest, who graciously offered them to the sacred idol. With bowed heads, we said our prayers to the benevolent goddess, seeking her blessings and guidance.
As the priest returned some of the offerings to Sharvi, he mistook us and hurriedly blessed, "Aap dono ki jodi hamesha bani rahe!"
("May the two of you always remain together!")
Sharvi immediately began to deny, "Hum..."
But before she could finish, the priest had already moved on to attend to others, leaving us in silence.
I turned to meet her eyes, only to find her already looking at me. Meeting my gaze, she let out an awkward chuckle, her body language betraying a hint of discomfort beneath the surface, as she nervously tugged at a stray strand of hair and subtly fidgeted her fingers.
"He might have made a mistake! Don't know what made him think of us as a couple, a scenario whose probability is zero!" Sharvi blurted out, her voice laced with incredulity.
Probability is zero!
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, a slap to my face that left me momentarily stunned. Zero probability? Did she just declare us, an impossible event?
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, mingled with amusement at the absurdity of it all.
I watched her, closing her eyes and whispering her heartfelt prayers, and a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I couldn't help but hope that her whispered wishes would come true, carrying her desires to the divine with unwavering faith.
I've visited many temples before, but this time felt entirely different-almost surreal, imbued with a profound sense of peace. Perhaps it was the majestic mountains towering around us, or the crisp, invigorating air of Shimla. Maybe the temple itself held some kind of magic. Or perhaps, it was the presence of this person standing beside me, closing her eyes and whispering her prayers with such sincerity.
I again remembered her zero probability comment. Never mind, her maths has always been weak! Maybe she just needs a refresher course in probability theory!
We spent some time leisurely wandering around the temple grounds, soaking in the tranquil atmosphere before eventually making our way back. Upon returning to the hotel, we settled down for breakfast together. However, our meal was interrupted by the incessant ringing of her phone, each call pulling her further away.
Later that morning, Keerti was engulfed in a flurry of ceremonies, surrounded by her family's ladies who adorned her with bangles.
For the next ritual, a group of unmarried girls gathered around Keerti, anticipation palpable in the air. From the stage, Keerti called out, "Sharvi, come on!"
But Sharvi shook her head, denying the invitation. "No, no," she protested.
Undeterred, Keerti descended from the stage, determination etched on her features. "Sharvi, chal," she urged, her voice soft yet insistent.
"Keerti, you know na..." Sharvi began, attempting to convey her reluctance.
But Keerti persisted, gently pulling Sharvi towards the group. "Stop that rubbish! I really want the kaleera to fall on you," she insisted firmly, her eyes alight with a fervent determination and excitement, undeterred by Sharvi's hesitation.
The girls sat in a neat line, their anticipation palpable as Keerti embarked on the ritual, attempting to break the ornament tied to her bangles. With each approach, the tension in the air grew, until finally, Keerti made her way towards Sharvi. With a gentle tug, the piece of ornament broke free from Keerti's bangles, falling directly onto Sharvi, eliciting roars of joy and excitement from the gathered onlookers.
Confusion clouding my thoughts, I turned to Arjun, seated beside me, seeking clarification. "What's this?" I inquired, furrowing my brow in puzzlement.
Arjun's smile widened as he leaned in to explain, "Aree, it's said that whoever the kaleera falls on, she's the next one to marry."
The revelation sent a ripple of realisation through me, prompting a subtle nod of understanding.
Next one to marry? Okay!
I watched as Sharvi's gaze lingered on the broken ornament in her hands, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness that tugged at my heartstrings. Despite her inner turmoil, she composed herself and rose to her feet, offering a smile to the people around her. But to me, it was clear that the smile lacked authenticity, a facade masking the turmoil brewing within her soul.
As I watched Sharvi walk away, a pang of unease settled in my chest at the sight of her lingering sadness. Determination surged within me, compelling me to take action and alleviate her distress, once again, like the day before yesterday.
Uncertainty gnawed at me as I grappled with the best course of action. The thought of heading to her room without any reason felt fraught with awkwardness, unsure of how she would receive my presence.
A sudden idea sparked within me, and without second-guessing it, I swiftly ran to my room and intentionally broke the button from the kurta I was to wear for the afternoon wedding. With a determined resolve, I made my way to Sharvi's room, my heart pounding with anticipation and apprehension. Steadying my nerves, I knocked softly on her door, hoping she would welcome my unexpected visit.
As she opened the door, her puffy eyes betrayed the traces of tears she had shed. Without uttering a word, I extended the broken kurta button towards her, my gesture speaking volumes. "Sorry, but I can't ask anybody else to do it," I murmured softly, my gaze meeting hers.
Giving a small smile, she invited me into her room. Without delay, she reached for the hotel phone and dialled the service, requesting thread and a needle.
As we sat in the quiet of her room, I couldn't shake the feeling that beneath her composed exterior, Sharvi was still grappling with sadness.
Fumbling with my phone, I pretended to read a non-existent WhatsApp message, setting the stage for my attempted joke. "See what I just received on WhatsApp," I began, acting as though engrossed in the imaginary message. "A student ate his homework. Why?"
As she tried to guess, I couldn't help but inwardly cringe, realising the lameness of my joke. Despite my embarrassment, I pressed on, waiting for her response.
"Why?" she finally asked, her curiosity piqued.
Summoning all my courage, I delivered the punchline, "Because the teacher said it was a piece of cake."
To my relief, she laughed, her amusement washing away the heaviness in the room. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her laughter, grateful for it!
As the hotel delivered the thread and needle, Sharvi wasted no time in expertly sewing the button back onto my kurta. I watched her deft movements, feeling a twinge of guilt for imposing this task upon her in her moment of sadness. Inwardly, I apologised for the inconvenience.
Later that afternoon, as the golden rays of the sun bathed the venue in a warm glow, the stage was meticulously being set for Keerti's and Arjun's long-awaited wedding.
I slipped into a crisp blue kurta adorned with intricate embroidery, paired elegantly with white pyjamas, and a navy blue Nehru jacket. This was the outfit Sharvi and I had liked the most when we had went shopping.
Almost ready, I emerged from my room, and was greeted with the gentle strains of traditional music floated through the air, mingling with the excited chatter of wedding guests. My gaze fell upon Sharvi standing in the hotel corridor, her silhouette illuminated by the soft light filtering through the windows. With her phone in hand, she was struggling to capture a picture of her own, clad in a resplendent lehenga.
Without hesitation, I approached her, drawn by an invisible force that always pushed me towards her. "Sharvi," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
She turned towards me, a smile gracing her lips as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Parth, I knew this outfit would look good on you. You are looking great," she spoke, her eyes and words setting my heart ablaze.
A warmth spread through my chest, igniting a spark of joy that danced in the depths of my soul. "Thank you", I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest at the sight of her radiant smile.
"You look absolutely enchanting too," I murmured, my voice filled with sincerity and admiration.
Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, a soft blush spreading across her features as she met my gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "Thank you Parth," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft hum of the music in the background.
"By the way, I noticed you struggling with clicking your pictures earlier. Would you like me to help you?" I asked with a warm smile.
Her eyes met mine, gratitude shining through as she nodded eagerly. "That would be wonderful," she replied, her voice filled with relief.
Taking her phone gently, I adjusted the angle, determined to immortalise her beauty amidst the elegant backdrop of the hotel's décor. Yet, as she scrolled through the photos, a shadow of disappointment crossed her features, her pout evident.
"What's wrong?" I inquired, concern lacing my tone as I scooted closer.
With a sigh, she confessed, "I just don't like the pictures. My phone's camera usually does better, but it seems off today. Or rather I am off today!"
Wanting to salvage the moment for her, I reached for my own phone, a glimmer of hope igniting in my chest. "Why don't we try with mine?" I suggested, offering her a lifeline amidst her frustration.
With a tentative nod, she agreed, her eyes brightening, as I began snapping away, determined to capture the essence of her radiant beauty.
Finally done, we leaned in together, viewing the pictures, when a sudden commotion erupted around us as a group of children raced past, their laughter echoing through the corridor.
Lost in the moment, unaware of the impending chaos, I felt a sudden jolt as one of the playful youngsters carelessly pushed me. In an instant, I stumbled, only to find myself falling into an unexpected embrace. Sharvi's.
Our bodies entwined in an involuntary closeness, we found ourselves pressed together, our breaths mingling, our hearts racing in unison.
That's when the sound of a camera's shutter pierced the air. It was then that we noticed my phone clutched in one hand, its lens capturing the intimate embrace we were grasped in.
Our moment was abruptly interrupted by Keerti's voice, slicing through the air like a sharp knife. "Guys!" she exclaimed, causing us to hastily untangle ourselves, clearing our throats and smoothing out our disheveled clothes.
Keerti stood before us, resplendent in bridal attire, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes as she flashed me a knowing smile. I averted my gaze, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks.
"I was on my way downstairs," she continued, her tone playful, "but then I spotted you two here! Let's go, you people need to be there for the pictures!"
With a flick of her veil, she gestured for us to follow, and we fell into step behind her.
We reached downstairs and saw Arjun waiting.
His eyes lit up with a radiant joy as he beheld Keerti in her bridal splendour, a soft smile gracing his lips. In that moment, it was as if the world around him faded into insignificance, and all that mattered was the woman before him, his beloved bride-to-be.
I witnessed Arjun enveloping Keerti in a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if he never wanted to let her go, him tracing the contours of her face with his fingers with so much adoration, whispering words of awe and affection, and uttering those three sacred words.
Just then, Keerti was called away by the photographer for her solo shots, and Arjun and she reluctantly parted ways.
I made my way over to Arjun, noticing the subtle tears glistening in his eyes as he attempted to conceal his emotions.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, saying, "Hey, man! Why these tears?"
He began softly, overwhelmed with his feelings, "Isn't this what everyone experiences on a day like today? This indescribable feeling transcends everything else-it's like a dream come true, witnessing the woman you love adorned as a bride, your bride."
He paused, looked at me, patted my back, before continuing, "You'll understand it completely when it happens to you. And when it does, it will be magical, and then you'll understand why these tears."
His words echoed in my mind, and I couldn't help but ponder their validity.
Was this feeling truly as magical as he described? Could the experience of witnessing the one you love transform into your life partner truly be as transcendent as he suggested?
I looked around, and my gaze locked on Sharvi, delicately adjusting Keerti's necklace with a focused expression, and a wave of unexpected emotions washed over me. In that moment, my heart stirred with a newfound curiosity, and I couldn't help but wonder how she would look as a bride.
In that fleeting moment, I allowed my imagination to wander, picturing Sharvi walking down the aisle, in the most beautiful bridal attire, the most precious jewelleries, her eyes sparkling with joy, her smile illuminating the room, her presence commanding the attention of all those present.
Keerti's playful teasing broke through my reverie, her voice cutting through the momentary silence with a mischievous lilt. "What were you doing upstairs?" she inquired, her tone tinged with amusement.
"I was clicking her picture," I replied, attempting to mask the flutter of emotions stirred within me.
Her teasing persisted, her words carrying a hint of playful mockery. "You were clicking pictures, not bad!" she then continued, "I remember, I had once asked someone to take a picture of me, and he had responded with, 'Am I your personal photographer?'" Her remark struck a nerve, as I remembered she was talking about me.
I opened my mouth to stop her, "Keerti...", but wasn't finished yet, her teasing nature pushing her further. "It's okay, Parth," she teased once more, "Mard sirf apni pasandida aurat ka hi personal photographer banta hai!"
(A man becomes a personal photographer for his favourite woman only!" )
She chuckled and left.
Later, we joined Arjun's family for a short baraat outside the hotel. The air was filled with anticipation and excitement as we danced and cheered, accompanied by the vibrant procession of Arjun's family members and friends.
As the baraat came to a halt, the groom side was warmly welcomed by Keerti's family, their faces adorned with smiles and their hearts brimming with happiness.
The wedding commenced, and I found myself fortunate to find that Sharvi and my chairs were conveniently placed next to each other. Seated side by side, we witnessed the union of our friends.
"How much longer?" I asked, the edge of impatience evident in my voice after enduring what felt like an eternity of sitting.
"Just the pheras and we are almost done!" Sharvi replied, her tone reassuring.
"Pheras? That, the round round around the fire?" I questioned.
"What round round? Don't you know how sacred they are?" Sharvi chided gently.
I shrugged my shoulders, conceding to her point with a sheepish grin.
I admitted, "I don't know much. I've heard they're an essential part of the wedding ceremony, but I'm not entirely sure about their meaning."
"Well, a couple takes seven pheras around the holy fire, and each phera holds a deep significance," She began, her eyes alight with passion for the subject. "As the couple circles the sacred fire, they are symbolising their journey together, not just in this lifetime, but for seven lifetimes according to Hindu tradition."
"Seven lifetimes? That's deep," I interjected, my tone impressed.
"As the couple takes each step," she nodded and continued, "they're not just walking around the fire. They're embarking on a lifelong journey together, promising to weather every storm and celebrate every joy as one, giving each other their unwavering dedication and commitment."
I nodded and murmured, "That's beautiful."
"Indeed it is," Sharvi agreed, her tone filled with warmth. "Marriage is a very sacred institution, it's very profound, very deep, it's not a mere social convention, a casual arrangement or a fleeting fancy," she continued with a sigh, "that's why, it's very important for a person to be very sure of himself and of the person he decides to step on that pedestal with."
Her voice trailed off, leaving a pregnant pause.
"That person is not just your groom or bride, but, they are your partner in every sense of the word," she continued, her gaze steady as she met my eyes. "They are the ones you turn to in times of joy and sorrow, the one who shares your hopes and dreams, your triumphs and challenges."
"Choosing a life partner is about so much more than just love or attraction," she went on, her voice soft yet resolute. "It's about finding someone who truly understands you, who compliments you in every way, and who shares your values and aspirations. After all, marriage is a journey, and it's important to choose the right companion to share it with."
As Sharvi spoke, her words seemed to carry an unspoken depth, as if there was something more she wanted to say, something hidden beneath the surface of her carefully constructed sentences.
It was as if she was not only trying to make me understand but also seeking a deeper understanding herself.
After a brief silence, Sharvi's teasing inquiry cut through the air like a playful breeze. "So, what about you, have you found someone like that?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement and curiosity.
Caught off guard by her question, I found myself staring at her, momentarily lost. Sensing my hesitation, Sharvi's playful demeanour shifted slightly, her expression morphing into a mixture of bemusement and gentle concern.
"What, why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her tone tinged with a hint of playful incredulity. "You plan to remain forever single?"
Her words jolted me out of my reverie, and I couldn't help but chuckle at her playful banter. "No, no," I replied, shaking my head with a sheepish grin. "It's just... finding the right person is easier said than done, you know?"
Sharvi nodded understandingly, her gaze softening with empathy. "I know," she replied, her voice gentle. "But hey, who knows what the future holds? The right person might be just around."
I stared at her, a smile playing on her lips, her gaze focused ahead. She was a vision of perfection, and I found it increasingly difficult to tear my gaze away from her. Her presence, her smile, her every gesture, and she herself, was awakening dormant emotions within me, evoking feelings I thought I had buried deep within.
It was as if the pages of history were being rewritten, breathing life into forgotten chapters of my heart.
Sharvi Kashyap, can it be you?
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"𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐁𝐮𝐭, 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐈 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭."
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Another update!
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