📅 November 6 – Nandanpur & Devgarh
Morning Distance
The morning was unusually quiet.
Ishanvi sat by her desk at home in Nandanpur, staring at the faint golden glow from her Diwali diya still burning on the windowsill.
Across the 20 km stretch toward Devgarh, Abhay rode his scooter slowly, the Sudarshini river reflecting a pale light, his thoughts heavier than the clouds above.
Even apart, neither could escape the pull between them. Their powers — subtle, untrained — responded to each other's moods.
At home, Ishanvi's candle flickered weakly, dimming as if weighed down by sadness.
Far away, Abhay felt a sudden heaviness in the air, his hands trembling as water droplets near his scooter rose faintly and fell back — mirroring her candle.
It was impossible to explain.
They weren't touching.
They weren't speaking.
Yet the connection hummed between them, quiet but undeniable.
The Proposal
By mid-morning, Devgarh High was buzzing. A new student, Aarush, had joined their class. Confident, smiling, and impossibly charming, he caught Ishanvi's attention immediately.
During lunch, he leaned close, whispering something that made her laugh softly.
Abhay, sitting at the far end of the table, felt it like a punch in the chest.
His stomach churned, his pulse quickened — jealousy clawing at him.
He tried to look away, to focus on his food, but the water in his bottle trembled. First a ripple, then a small wave that spilled over, dampening his notebook.
Ishanvi froze, noticing the sudden disturbance, and glanced up.
Aarush noticed too, smiling, completely oblivious to the subtle magic stirring around him.
Vivaan nudged Abhay teasingly. "Bro, your bottle's making friends with the floor!"
Abhay muttered, trying to calm the trembling water, but his emotions were too strong. His hands tingled, water rising slightly as if responding to his anger and protectiveness.
Powers Reacting
Across the 20 km stretch, Ishanvi felt it. Her flame flickered violently, hot and bright, despite no wind or movement.
It was more than sadness — a longing, a heartbeat, a warning.
She whispered to herself, voice trembling, "Abhay… are you… jealous?"
At that instant, the flame dimmed, then strengthened again — like it was matching his heartbeat.
He looked around at the classroom, trying to hide it. The water near him pulsed faintly, shimmering against the sunlight through the window.
No one else noticed.
But both of them knew.
The Walk Home
By evening, their siblings called them to leave.
On the ride back to Nandanpur, Abhay and Ishanvi were miles apart physically, but emotionally closer than ever.
Every puddle, every glimmer of sunlight on the water, every tiny flicker of flame felt heavier, louder, more alive.
It was as if the world — the river, the wind, the fire in Ishanvi's hands — was echoing their sadness, their longing.
Neither spoke for most of the ride.
Finally, Abhay whispered through the helmet's mic on his scooter, voice soft:
"Ishu… you're mine. Even if they try to get close, even if… everything tries to pull us apart… you're mine."
Ishanvi's hands tightened around her scarf. Her flame glowed warmly, almost defiantly.
"Yes… Abhay. I feel it too. Even when you're far… I feel you."
Closing Moment
That night, the Sudarshini reflected two faint glows: one blue, one orange.
Ripples and sparks intertwined silently, dimming and brightening in perfect sync.
Nature itself seemed to sigh.
Even as the river whispered warnings the night before, it now trembled at the intensity of what had begun.
And somewhere deep down, both Abhay and Ishanvi realized:
No distance, no jealousy, no warning could ever truly separate them.