Chapter 1
Kritika Mehra was a girl carrying responsibilities far heavier than her age.
From the outside, everything looked perfect—
a famous magazine writer, her own apartment, her own car… everything.
But Kritika’s life had never been perfect.
Her mother had passed away when she was very young, and her father—Professor Mehra—was a crazy history fanatic. Even at the dinner table he would narrate stories of the Roman Empire, the Mauryan dynasty, and who knows what else. His love for history was so intense that he forced Kritika to take History in college.
Kritika became a writer hoping she could run away from history…
but life had different plans.
Two years ago, her father met with an accident.
In a single moment, like the glare of a sudden headlight, Kritika’s entire world went dark.
He slipped into a coma, and every responsibility—home, finances, hospital—fell completely on her shoulders.
Because of her father’s old connections, she managed to get a job at History Today magazine.
The name was prestigious, but the workload and pressure were even bigger. She hadn’t written anything impressive in the last two years, and her boss, Ms. Ramaswami—who also happened to be her father’s old friend—scolded her almost every day.
And then came another responsibility: Nanu.
Her grandfather was a retired scientist, whose experiments could explode anytime—literally. Once his “time machine” blasted, and the whole neighbourhood was ready to tear down their wall.
It was Kritika who looked after him, cleaned up after his accidents, stopped his disasters, and solved his problems.
Life, job, home, father, Nanu…
In the middle of all this, Kritika felt like a ghostly machine—
just keep moving, stopping was not allowed.
Maybe this pressure was the reason she hadn’t written a single good, heart-touching article for two years. Yet every morning she would open her diary, pick up her pen, and then… the blank page would make fun of her.
Kritika Mehra was a famous writer—
but perhaps not a lucky one.
She sat at her desk, a cup of cooling tea beside her… and on her computer screen, the cursor blinking.
Staring at that blinking cursor, she felt like it was screaming—
“Well? What will you write today?”
Kritika rolled her tired eyes.
“I’ll write… if you let me!”
Her voice held exhaustion, irritation, and a little helplessness.
For the past seven days, one article had been haunting her—
or maybe she was haunting it.
And then…
BOSS: “Kritika!”
She turned around with a jerk—he was standing right behind her like a ghost in a horror movie.
“Still not done? This article has to be published on Monday. Today and tomorrow are your last chances. If it’s not completed by tomorrow…”
He leaned forward and whispered,
“…then don’t bother coming to the office on Monday.”
Kritika was just wondering how her life could get worse…
When her phone rang.
Caller ID: Ramu – Nanu’s assistant.
Her blood boiled instantly.
“Here we go…”
She picked up the call and Ramu screamed,
“Madam!! Today Nanu is flying a SPACE SHIP! He’s on the terrace! It can blast any second!”
Even her shaking cup of tea got scared.
“Ramu… stop him!”
“Madam, I’m so scared I feel like I’ve travelled to the future. How can I stop him?!”
Without listening any further, she grabbed her bag and rushed out of the office.
She jumped into her red BMW and pressed the accelerator as if her life depended on it.
The moment she reached home, she saw it—
Nanu on the terrace wearing something that looked like a space suit, playing with a rocket-like button.
“Kritika beta, just a small test—”
Kritika shot up the stairs like lightning.
“NANU!!!”
She pulled him down by the ear.
Nanu, like a child, kept saying “Ow-ow-ow!” while coming down.
“You’re 70 years old! Heart problems, ten medicines, five doctor warnings—and you? SPACE SHIP?!”
Her voice, somewhere between anger and breaking down, shook.
“I can’t even do my job properly… my boss threatened to fire me… I have to manage Papa’s hospital bills…
and you—with your HUGE experiments!”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“If something happens to you… I’ll break completely, Nanu.
Please… stick to small inventions.”
Nanu’s anger melted instantly.
He raised his hand like he was taking an oath.
“Fine, beta. From today onwards, I’ll only repair people’s mixer-grinders, washing machines, televisions. I promise—no big experiments.”
Kritika hugged him tight.
“Please don’t break this promise…”
Nanu smiled softly.
“I just had one last idea for a time travel—”
“NANU!!!”
“Okay okay! Cancel!”
That night, Kritika came home, freshened up, and worked through the night on her article.
She didn’t know why, but today the words flowed easily…
Maybe after an emotional breakdown, creativity becomes free.
By morning, the article was complete. She sent the email.
And the entire Sunday?
Utter peace.
As if even life itself had taken a Sunday off
