One ordinary afternoon, as I scrolled through my phone in a haze of half-hearted studies, a notification jolted me awake. Gayatri. After months of silence, she sent Alibag trip photos—waves crashing, bonfire glow, our faces lit with forgotten joy. My heart skipped, surprise mixing with a fake cool shrug on the outside. Who cares? I told myself. But inside? Curiosity burned like a hidden flame, wondering what pulled her back now.
Her text followed: Sneha's birthday party this weekend. Invited the whole gang. You coming?
I stared, thumb hovering. Pretending nonchalance, I typed back sharp: Heard she's celebrating big? Funny, no one made a fuss like that for mine. It was petty, but the hurt from her silence slipped out.
She replied quick: you pick me up from my place. Be ready dont be late!.
No arguing. Just that. Days later, I pulled on my favorite puma's hoodie, styled my hair just right, grabbed the keys to my dark green Jupiter scooty, and rode to her spot. Waiting outside, engine idling, I waited near, nerves twisting like old guilt resurfacing.
Then she stepped out. And time stopped.
Gayatri in a saree—for the first time. Soft red silk draping her like petals kissed by dawn, pleats swaying gentle with each step, her eyes sparkling under the streetlight glow. I froze, breath caught. Ahh... now I get it, I thought. Why boys beg their girls to wear saree. She bloomed like a flower in monsoon—delicate curves wrapped in elegance, beauty so pure you just wanted to gaze forever, to brush close and breathe her in. A poetry rushed unbidden to my heart:
In that red as dawn's first blush,
You bloom, a lotus in the hush.
Curves like rivers soft and slow,
Eyes that pull the wandering soul.
Why hide this grace, this timeless art?
You've stolen breath, you've claimed my heart.
I ached to hug her, pull her close like before the storm. But guilt clawed back—that night, the slap, the mess I made. How could I, after hurting her? Still, she smiled—warm, forgiving, a bridge over our silence. "Ready?" she asked softly.
She slid onto the back seat, graceful as a new bride starting her life, hands light on my waist. We rode toward the party spot, wind whispering through her dupatta. I stole glances in the side mirror—she looked even more stunning there, hair dancing wild, face serene like a dream reflected back.
I drove my usual reckless style—fast as thunder, sharp overtakes slicing traffic, horn blaring like my racing pulse, overspeeding cuts that made tires hum. She said nothing, just held on steady, trusting my chaos.
Finally, we pulled up to the apartment. Sneha's birthday bash waited on the terrace—beautifully decked by some designer touch: fairy lights twinkling like stars brought down, flowers cascading in garlands of marigold and roses, balloons swaying in the breeze, tables laden with sweets and music pulsing soft. The gang waved us over, but my eyes lingered on Gayatri, stepping off the scooty like a queen. In that moment, amid the lights and laughter, the distance between us felt smaller—guilt still heavy, but hope flickering alive. Maybe this was our second chance, wrapped in silk and smiles.
As the party buzzed alive on the terrace, old worlds collided in the best way—my college friends mixing with coaching classmates and shared buddies from back when life felt simpler. Hugs flew, laughter echoed like fireworks, inside jokes resurfacing with every grin. We gathered around Sneha for cake cutting, candles flickering as cheers rose, frosting-smeared fingers passing plates of treats—gulab jamuns sticky-sweet, samosas crisp and hot. Fun spilled everywhere: dances to thumping beats, selfies capturing frozen joy, stories from Alibag pulling us closer.
But night wore on, and the crowd melted away—goodbyes whispered, cars humming off into Pune's streets.
She appeared finally, saree whispering with her steps. "Can we go up?" she asked, nodding to the upper ledge, away from the remnants.
"No need," I said softly, but her eyes held a pull I couldn't resist. We climbed together, until the terrace stood empty, a ghost of its own party. Plates lay scattered like fallen soldiers, balloons limp and tangled, fairy lights dimming like tired stars. I sat on a quiet bench, waiting. Gayatri would come; something in me knew it. settling on the cool floor amid the silence—a heavy, peaceful quiet wrapping us like an old blanket.
Gayatri gazed out, voice gentle. "I love this part... after the chaos. Birthday parties, weddings, any big function—the rush, the noise, then this silence. It's my habit, seeing the aftermath."
I didn't tease or brush it off. Her words sank in deep, revealing her quiet soul. "Yeah," I murmured, feeling it too. "Like we're leaving echoes of our memories here—the fun, the laughs—frozen in the mess."
She turned to me, eyes soft in the low light. "Just a minute ago, this place thrummed with birthday cheers, cake flying, music loud. Now? Empty. That's how time moves—people disappear, but the quiet lingers."
I smiled lightly, a warmth stirring despite the chill.
Her voice grew slower, heavier, each word landing like a stone in still water. "Life's so short. Our only true enemy is time. Value it... and you win everything. Waste it... and you end up like this—stuck in the silence while the world spins on." She paused, letting it breathe. "Like tonight. Time came, everyone left. But us? We stayed."
Silence bloomed between us, thick and full. Her words twisted inside me—what was she really saying? I held back, heart echoing her rhythm.
Then she looked straight into me, voice steady but laced with ache. "I've heard about you... all the chaos. Skipping studies, endless fights, anger exploding everywhere, socializing wild like it'll fill the holes, your time is *now*. Ignore it, and it won't wait—it'll leave you behind, cold and alone."
Memories flooded slow—10th grade nights, me buried in math hell. She leaned closer, eyes glistening. "Remember when you struggled with maths? Exam time, no matter how late, I'd sit with you, and you was sacred but still we solving problems step by step. But that time you were serious and dedicated, pouring your heart in. Late nights turned to focus, fear into fire. That innocent boy... eyes wide, trying so hard... and you know I liked that old you. Not this careless shadow you've become, that innocence has gone now."
Her words paused, hanging heavy, she said: "Do whatever you want, but don't fall behind. Everyone will move on—friends, chances, life itself. You'll wake up one day, realizing its too late, regretting the distance. Try to face things life, carrer, problems go win but Don't go that too far." A soft laugh escaped her, bittersweet. "At least get serious now. 12th comes once. Life gives one real shot—grab it, or watch it slip forever."
Her words cut sharp but true, shattering my fog like glass underfoot, yanking me into raw reality. They weren't scolds; they were a lifeline, laced with care that pierced my chest. I stared into her eyes—different now, deeper, wiser, glowing with a quiet fire that pulled at my soul. Did I fall for it? For her? Maybe—yes, in that endless gaze. My words froze, caught in my throat. I searched her depths, lost in the storm of her concern, heartbeats slowing to match hers. In that silent terrace, amid party ghosts, her light pierced my darkness—guilt cracking open to something vulnerable, alive, pulling me toward redemption, one shared breath at a time.
She held my gaze, her eyes searching mine deep in the quiet. She was like why i am staring like that? But she ignored and said: "You're a genius, but you don't take things seriously enough."
Then, without thinking, I blurted suddenly, "Did you wear eyeliner?"
She froze, caught off guard. I smiled wide. "Now I get it—why your eyes look so different today."
A blush crept up her cheeks, hot and quick, but she fought to hide it, glancing away. Her thoughts scattered, confused, words tripping in her mind. I laughed gently, easing the air. "Gayatri, time flies, but these eyes... they won't let me look away again."
"Why do you like it?" she asked, voice shy. "The eyeliner?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "It just looks good—beautiful. But don't listen to me. I say stupid things. Live your life, your way, your thoughts."
The moment lightened, tension melting like morning mist. I stood, brushing off my hoodie. "Come on, let's go. It's late. Feels weird sitting here with all these half-eaten plates and leftover food. People might think we're waiting for scraps."
We both laughed, the sound warm and free. "Wait!" she said, grabbing my arm. "I want to dance before going"
I said; "Go home and dance"
Frustration flashed in her eyes. "Why don't you ever take things seriously?" She stood, pulling me up. "I know you dance well."
We both gets up stands together and her hand slipped into mine, the other resting light on my shoulder. My free hand stayed in my pocket, awkward. She noticed, huffed softly, and tugged it out, guiding it to her waist. "There."
"Ahh, how weird, yaar," I muttered, fingers hovering.
I said "Gayatri, I don't know... I can't touch there."
"Why?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "What happened?"
"How wierd yaar, I can't touch any girl like that," I confessed, voice low.
She laughed, soft and knowing. "You can touch if any girl is it's okay—with it and gives permission for it then its fine with it."
"But the girl might be okay," I said, "but I can't touch a woman."
"Hey!" she snapped, frustration turning to playful anger. "Why are you acting like a fool?"
Something snapped in me. I placed my hand fully on her waist—warm, steady. We swayed slow to an invisible rhythm, the terrace silent except for our breaths. Her hands slid gently—down my shoulder, tracing my arm, then back up, lingering like she cherished every inch. Did she adore me? That touch said yes, soft and sure, pulling at my heart.
My pulse raced wild, heart thumping loud as drums. We danced close, bodies syncing in the dim light—her eyeliner-framed eyes locking mine, the world fading to just us. In that sway, guilt faded, connection bloomed a new, every step whispering promises in the quiet night.
As we danced on that empty terrace, our steps fell into perfect sync—like two hearts finally learning the same rhythm. My pulse thundered in my chest, loud enough to drown the distant city hum. Should I propose? The thought flickered wild in my mind, urgent and terrifying. But no—this moment was too fragile, too pure. I couldn't risk shattering it; I just wanted it to stretch forever, her warmth against me, the world holding its breath.
Gayatri began humming, then singing softly—a Malayalam melody I couldn't understand, words like silk weaving through the night. Beautiful, haunting, pulling at something deep in my soul. Our bodies pressed close, no space even for an ant to slip between—her curves fitting mine like she was made for this hold. Finally, she was here, truly mine in my arms, and I cradled her like a treasure I'd almost lost forever.
The spell broke with a sudden clap from behind. The terrace cleaner, grinning in the shadows. Gayatri burst into laughter, light and free, but awkward heat flooded my face. We pulled apart, descending the stairs in quiet steps, the magic lingering like smoke.
I dropped her home on my scooty, wind whipping fierce as I oversped—my reckless habit roaring back. Sharp overtakes, horn blasts cutting traffic. Then disaster lunged: a car swerved wrong-way straight at us. I yanked the handlebar hard, tires screeching, barely dodging into safety. Gayatri's arms clamped my waist like iron, her grip tight from behind—a pure filmy moment, her fear crashing into mine.
We pulled up at her place, her chest heaving deep breaths. "I'll never sit on your two-wheeler again," she gasped, eyes wide. "You're dangerous—pure risk!"
I laughed, trying to shake it off. But she grabbed my arm, voice trembling. "Don't laugh! One second off... and we'd be gone. Just like that."
"Shhh," I whispered, heart swelling fierce. "I'm here, na? As long as I'm here, nothing will happen you. Nothing."
She softened, but shook her head. "Stop your herogiri. Go safe—please, no overspeeding."
I grinned. "Now I can. I'm alone anyway."
Her eyes turned serious, piercing. "Still— atleast for my concern please for me, promise. No more speeding."
I laughed again, but her care hit like a wave. Does she really worry for me? Or is it my illusion? Words bubbled up—I wanted to pour it all out, confess the ache, beg her stay. But they stuck, throat tight.
Casually, she stepped forward, wrapping me in a hug—soft, real. I froze shy, cheeks burning. She smiled that knowing smile and slipped inside, leaving me rooted there, heart cracking open.
Abhi na jaao chhod kar, yeh dil abhi bhara nahi...
The song echoed in my head, raw and pleading.
अभी न जाओ छोड़ कर के दिल अभी भरा नहीं
अभी न जाओ छोड़ कर के दिल अभी भरा नहीं
अभी अभी तो आई हो अभी अभी तो
अभी अभी तो आई हो बहार बनके छाई हो
हवा ज़रा महक तो ले नज़र ज़रा बहक तो ले
ये शाम ढल तो ले ज़रा
ये शाम ढल तो ले ज़रा
ये दिल सम्भल तो ले ज़रा
मैं थोड़ी देर जी तो लूँ नशे के घूँट पी तो लूँ
नशे के घूँट पी तो लूँ अभी न जाओ छोड़ कर...
Don't go away, my heart isn't satisfied yet
Don't go away, my heart isn't satisfied yet
You've just arrived, just arrived, just arrived
You've just arrived, you've spread like spring
Let the breeze smell you a little, let your eyes wander
Let the evening fall a little
Let the evening fall a little
Let this heart calm down a little
Let me live a little while, let me take a sip of intoxication
Let me take a sip of intoxication
Don't go away, let me my heart isnt...
She was gone, door clicking shut, but her warmth lingered on my skin, her care echoing in my chest. In that empty street, alone with the night, emotion choked me—love, regret, longing crashing like waves. How could she walk away so easy when every fiber screamed "stay?" Tears pricked hot; this wasn't just a goodbye. It was a wound reopening, her light fading, leaving me hollow, aching for the girl who'd seen my soul and still chose to care. God, it hurt—beautiful, brutal, real.