Chapter 1 The First meeting
The First Meeting
I used to believe that some meetings were nothing more than meetings.
People came into your life, introduced themselves, worked beside you for a few hours, and then quietly returned to their own worlds.
That day, I expected nothing different.
I had arrived at an event for a photography assignment. I was handling the photography, while the event management was being taken care of by someone else. We had never worked together before. We were simply two people hired by the same client for the same event.
Before everything began, the client introduced us.
“Vish, this is Diya. She’s handling the event.”
I looked at her.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Her smile was effortless.
She had the kind of presence that made a first meeting feel strangely familiar—as if she had known you a little longer than she actually had.
I adjusted the camera hanging from my shoulder.
“Everything set?”
“Almost,” she said, already turning towards the setup. “There are a few things I should tell you too, so nothing gets in the way of your shots.”
“Go ahead.”
And she did.
Diya talked with her hands. Her expressions changed with every sentence. One moment she was explaining the stage setup, the next she was laughing about something, and a second later she was calling out to a staff member because something wasn't where it was supposed to be.
She was energy in human form.
I noticed that much.
Nothing more.
At least, not then.
To me, she was just a new colleague.
A new event.
Another ordinary workday.
What I didn't notice was how often her eyes returned to me while she talked.
My personality.
The physique .
My sense of style..
The camera resting against my shoulder.
Nothing particularly intentional about the way I looked. I dressed for comfort, not attention.
But perhaps that was exactly what caught hers.
“You always dress like this?” she suddenly asked.
I looked at her.
“Like what?”
She gestured vaguely towards me.
“Casual. A little… different.”
I smiled.
“It's comfortable.”
She held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.
“It's nice.”
Then someone called her name from behind.
“Diya!”
She turned immediately.
“I'll be back.”
And she disappeared into the crowd.
I lifted my camera and started working.
Once the event began, everything else faded into the background.
The stage.
The guests.
The candid moments.
The tiny expressions people made when they thought nobody was watching.
That was what I loved about photography—the things people didn't know they were giving away.
And somewhere between all those moments, my eyes occasionally found Diya again.
She was everywhere.
Fixing things.
Talking to people.
Laughing.
Moving from one corner of the venue to another as if standing still had never been an option for her.
She seemed incapable of being unnoticed.
I was the opposite.
I preferred observing to being observed.
Maybe that was the first difference between us.
And maybe that's why, without realizing it, I began noticing her too.
By afternoon, we'd crossed paths several times.
A question.
A quick answer.
A small joke.
A smile.
Nothing significant.
Nothing I would have remembered if someone had asked me about that day later.
Because there was already someone else occupying the part of my heart where significance lived.
Kiru.
Distance had found its way into our lives.
But somehow, it had never found its way into my love for her.
I still loved her.
That part had never been confusing.
I'd always believed love wasn't about keeping someone close enough to belong to you.
It was about trust.
Space.
Freedom.
Two people choosing each other without having to lose themselves in the process.
That was what love meant to me.
So I had no reason to wonder what was happening in someone else's eyes that day.
I didn't know Diya was noticing things I hadn't noticed myself.
I didn't know a simple question about my clothes could stay in someone's mind longer than it should.
And I certainly didn't know that sometimes, one person can walk into your life thinking it's just another ordinary day—
while, somewhere quietly inside someone else,
it becomes the beginning of something.
By the time the event was coming to an end, Diya and I had crossed paths several times.
Sometimes I needed space for a photograph.
Sometimes a guest had to be moved.
Sometimes something on the stage needed to be changed.
Our conversations were short, but they no longer felt like conversations between strangers.
“Vish, send me this photo.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“And the candid shots too.”
“Those too.”
Diya smiled.
“Why do you always give such short answers?”
I looked at her.
“Because the questions are short.”
She laughed.
“Fine. Next time, I'll ask bigger questions.”
I smiled too.
The event was slowly coming to an end.
People started leaving, and we both began packing our things.
I checked my camera and the rest of my equipment.
Diya was busy taking care of the last few things.
After a while, she walked over to me.
“By the way…”
“Hmm?”
“Give me your number.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“For the photos. I need to send them to the client too, and there might be a few things we need to coordinate.”
It sounded completely reasonable.
So I took out my phone and gave her my number.
She saved it.
“Name?”
I smiled.
“Vish.”
She looked at me.
“I know that.”
“Then?”
“Just confirming.”
I looked at her.
She was smiling.
I said nothing.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.
Hi, Diya.
I looked at the screen.
Then at her.
“Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
She turned and walked away.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
For me, it was just a contact.
A work contact.
Maybe someone I might have to coordinate with at another event someday.
Nothing more.
But that night…
when I got home, another message appeared on my phone.
Diya: Reached?
I looked at the message for a few seconds.
Then replied.
Vish: Yeah.
One word.
A little while later, her reply came.
Diya: Good. Take care.
I put my phone down.
There was nothing in that message that could have meant anything else.
It was just a question.
Just a reply.
Just a simple take care.
And yet…
I don't know why, but something told me our conversation wasn't going to end there.
And on the other side of the screen…
maybe Diya didn't want it to.
