The winter air in Delhi was sharp that night, the kind that stung against the skin but carried a strange clarity with it. On the rooftop of a modest two-story house, Abhi lay flat on his back, staring at the stars scattered like diamonds across the velvet dark. It was New Year's Eve, yet instead of celebrating, he found himself alone.
His parents were downstairs, but after the argument earlier—raised voices about his "wasted potential," his obsession with reading manhwa instead of studying for a respectable career—Abhi had stormed out. He didn't want to hear the same lecture again: dreams won't feed you, fantasies won't take you anywhere, you're not living in a comic book.
Now, he was up here with nothing but a thin blanket, headphones tossed aside, and the universe stretching endlessly above him.
"Happy New Year, Abhi," he muttered to himself with a humorless laugh. "Here's to another year of being useless."
As he lay there, his gaze caught something—a streak of light cutting across the sky. A shooting star. His chest tightened with sudden childish excitement, the kind he hadn't felt in years. He remembered the old tales: Make a wish, and it comes true.
With a smirk, he whispered into the night, "I wish… to become the strongest in the entire multiverse."
He laughed at the absurdity of his own words. It was just a joke, inspired by the hundreds of overpowered protagonists he'd read about. Characters who fought demons, gods, and fate itself. Characters who were everything he wasn't.
But then—something happened.
The shooting star didn't fade away into the horizon. Instead, it changed direction. It bent, as though pulled by some invisible force, and came hurtling straight toward him. Abhi sat up in shock, his heart pounding against his ribs.
"No way—"
The light slammed into his chest with a force that knocked the air out of him. He gasped, falling backward, his vision filling with blinding white. The star disintegrated into dust, sinking into his skin as if his body had absorbed it.
Abhi clutched his chest, struggling to breathe. The world around him warped. The stars spun, the rooftop wavered, and for a terrifying moment, he felt as though he was being pulled out of reality itself.
And then… silence.
When his vision cleared, someone was lying on the rooftop beside him.
It wasn't a "someone." It was a girl.
She looked no older than him, maybe seventeen or eighteen, but everything about her radiated otherworldly beauty. Her hair flowed like strands of silver moonlight, her skin glowed faintly as though kissed by starlight, and her eyes—deep, endless, shifting colors of galaxies. She wore robes torn and burned at the edges, her shoulders trembling with exhaustion. Blood—golden, not red—dripped down her arm.
Abhi froze. His rational mind screamed that this was a hallucination. But the sound of her weak breathing was too real.
"H-hey… are you okay?" His voice cracked as he crawled closer.
Her gaze flickered toward him. Even in pain, her eyes held the weight of eternity. "A… human?" she whispered, disbelief in her tone.
"You're hurt," Abhi said, ignoring the surrealism of the situation. He quickly pulled off his hoodie and pressed it against her wound. "Stay still. You'll be fine."
She blinked, as if startled by his concern. No one had ever dared touch her like this before. Gods were feared, revered, worshipped—not cared for like fragile beings. Yet here was a mortal, trembling with fear and confusion, but still trying to help.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "You're… different."
Abhi didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if this was real. But as he looked at her, something shifted in his chest—a strange pull, a connection.
"What's your name?" he asked softly.
The girl hesitated, then whispered, "Lyra… goddess of the Celestial Veil." Her voice was fragile, like starlight breaking.
Abhi's mind reeled. A goddess? That made no sense. Yet, deep inside, he knew she wasn't lying.
"Lyra… I'm Abhi," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.
For a moment, their eyes met. In hers, he saw not the distant coldness of divinity, but warmth—a flicker of gratitude, maybe something more.
But before either of them could say anything further, the night sky thundered. The stars pulsed violently, as if the heavens themselves were watching.
Lyra's face paled. She sat up with effort, clutching Abhi's arm. "No… this can't be. The heavens—they'll sense this."
"Sense what?" Abhi asked, panic rising.
"That I've fallen here. That I've… met you." Her hand trembled as it rested on his. "Our worlds are not meant to intertwine. The love between a human and a goddess… is forbidden."
Her words were like a blade. Yet, even as the stars roared above them, neither of them looked away.
For the first time in both their lives, destiny had shifted. And it all began with a wish.