Chapter 1- How it felt
Chapter- 1 How it felt
“I feel like I’ve seen you before. Have we met?” I asked, genuinely curious.
He looked at me, brows furrowed in thought. “No,” he said finally, though he looked unsure.
We hadn’t met before—not in this life at least—but somehow, he felt familiar. Known.
I was born and raised in Jalandhar, Punjab—a small, posh town with big dreams. A Valentine’s baby, born on February 14, 2001. Maybe that’s why I’m such a hopeless romantic. I believe in love—the deep, emotional, soul-connecting kind. The kind you don’t find easily.
My parents had a love marriage, and I was their first daughter. Their story was beautiful but tough. When I was seven, my dad had a life-changing accident. Three brain surgeries later, he survived—but not without consequence. He became partially disabled, and doctors said his condition would only worsen. My mom stayed by his side, never once letting go. She carried us through the storm. Watching her made me believe in real love, but it also made my childhood heavy.
After finishing school, I moved to Canada—just like my mom had once dreamed. She had her own chance to go, when I was just one, after her father passed away. But she chose me over a new life. Everything she did after that was to see me settle in Canada... and bring her here someday. I’m still trying.
I’ve been living in Surrey for four years now. Alone. Independent. I’ve worked many jobs, but one stood out—the one that brought me to him.
It was just another day at the security company I worked for. I had been with them for six months, working at various sites, never seeing the same faces twice. That day, I was posted in Vancouver. My uniform was on point, hair neat, makeup flawless, no glasses. I arrived on time. Everything felt... right.
While getting site instructions from my supervisor, a tall guy walked up and said, “Hi.”
He was fair-skinned with big brown eyes, a clean beard, and a well-fitted uniform paired with stylish shoes—something I always notice first. We introduced ourselves briefly, and I got posted to a different section.
My job was simple: monitor and prevent shoplifting. Not long into the shift, I spotted a man trying to steal an iron. He saw me near the door, panicked, dropped the iron, and left. I picked it up and decided to return it—but halfway up the escalator, the iron slipped from my hands and fell into a narrow, unreachable gap.
Mortified, I turned around and saw a manager behind me laughing. “It’s okay,” he said kindly. But then, I looked up—and there he was. The guy from earlier. His eyes were on me. Watching. I laughed, a little embarrassed.
I walked over to him. “Hey, do you know where the supervisor is?”
“No idea,” he shrugged.
“Okay, thanks—” I started to walk away.
“You can stay here, if you want,” he said quickly.
I stayed.
Security work is often boring, and I usually worked alone. It was rare to have a partner on site. That day, I welcomed the company. We started chatting—names, sites we’d worked, the usual small talk. I thought he was just another guy trying to flirt. But his eyes… they weren’t like the others. They felt like they were speaking.
He told me his name: Inder. We talked about being international students in Canada, how our studies were going, our struggles, even relationships.
“Are you married?” he asked.
I laughed. “No.”
He looked... surprised. And curious. “Do you like someone?”
“Nope. Never found anyone worth it.”
I answered honestly, not thinking it might encourage him. But I also wondered—why was I telling him this?
He cracked jokes about our coworkers, and I laughed—really laughed. For the first time in a long while.
“Tusi hamesha idda hasde ho, ya aaj kuch khaas gal aa?” he asked with a grin.
“You’re funny,” I replied, still laughing.
Hours flew by. When he went on his break, I missed him. Don’t ask me why. I found myself wandering into the break room for water... and there he was, watching TikToks of bodybuilders. I pretended not to see him. The water machine wasn’t working.
“Jor naal,” he called out behind me.
I jumped. He had noticed me. Again.
We talked more—his past, his values, what he was looking for. He asked how I’d stayed single this long. I didn’t answer. Better to keep some mystery.
Later, I mentioned it was my brother’s birthday and I needed to buy a gift. He helped me find a nearby store. I came back with kiddish stuff, and he laughed at it. I didn’t mind. Why should I care what a stranger thinks?
Shift ended. We both headed toward the SkyTrain. Turned out we lived in the same city. We found seats.
He sat down first—typical. But then he looked at me and said, “Sorry, I sat down without asking. Hope you don’t mind.”
I didn’t.
“When are you working next?” he asked.
“Not with you, I think.”
“Well, give me your number. I’ll text you if we’re ever posted together.”
I handed over my number without much thought.
At my stop, he smiled.
“So, cake time?” he asked, almost too casually.
“I can go alone,” I said, trying to sound neutral.
“I don’t mind coming—”
“It’s okay,” I cut him off gently. “See you next time.”
And I stepped off the train.
What I didn’t realize then was... a little part of him had stayed with me. And a little part of me—though I didn’t know it—had just gone with him.
But there, standing by the curb, waiting for me with his arms crossed and car keys in hand... was Raksh.
He smiled when he saw me.
My boyfriend.
We’d been together for a year. Living together for six months.
And just like that, reality came rushing back.
The butterflies. The spark. The glances. The laughter.
All of it had happened while I already belonged to someone else.
I walked toward Raksh, but my mind… it lingered on someone else’s brown eyes.
I shouldn’t have felt it. But I did.
That was the day I met Inder.
And that was the day something shifted.
