Chapter 1
The oval mirror in pink-painted room caught her reflection as she leaned closer, both hands struggling behind her back to close the hooks of her blouse.
The blouse was a beautiful mix of silver and sky-blue, stitched perfectly to hug her young twenty - two years old frame.
The lehnga that flowed down from her waist matched it, its silver work shining under the soft yellow light of her room, blending into the wide flare of sky-blue fabric that moved gently with every step she took. Against her golden-fair skin, the colors looked as if they had been chosen only for her.
Her hair golden-brown waves that always fell neatly even when she didn’t try slipped down her back, soft strands brushing against her shoulders and shaping the outline of her small heart-shaped face.
She had always been proud of her eyes, big light-brown ones that people said spoke more than her mouth ever could. Tonight, she let them shine brighter, lining them carefully with kohl, brushing on mascara to make her lashes fuller, darker, a little dramatic. She added a soft gloss to her medium-full lips, pressed them together, and smiled slightly at her own reflection. A touch of foundation, a dab of highlighter, and she was ready.
Lifting her sky-blue dupatta, she draped it across her side, letting it fall on her length of body to floor, and took one final look in the mirror. “Will he notice me today?” she whispered under her breath, tilting her head a little, admiring herself.
“Will he say something? Even one word?”
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock.
“Dhani, come fast, it’s time for the puja,” came her mother’s voice, Sayunkta, from the other side of the door.
“One minute, Maa!” Dhani replied, trying to sound calm.
Sayunkta sighed, her footsteps fading as she went down the stairs to the hall where the rest of the family was waiting.
Dhani’s lips curved into a secret smile. She wasn’t in a hurry. Today wasn’t just Diwali. Today was the day she would see him.
She spun in the middle of her room, her lehnga flaring, and the smile spread wider on her face. Her room, painted soft pink with posters of popular actors on the walls, looked even more alive with her twirling in the center. Anyone else would think she was excited about the festival, about sweets or firecrackers. But the truth was deeply buried in her heart , there was only one reason for her happiness.
She sat down on her fluffy pink bedding, still smiling, and her eyes wandered to the wall where shirtless actors posed in glossy posters. Everyone teased her about those, assuming she liked those men, but she knew better. They didn’t know her heart. Only she knew whose face stayed with her through every night before sleeping, every morning before waking, every prayer, when she closed her eyes.
Leaning forward, she opened the white-and-pink drawer by her bed. Her fingers moved carefully until they found what she was looking for a photo frame, his photo. She lifted it out, her breath slowing as her eyes met his face in the picture.
Akash.
Even in a photograph, he looked so alive to her. His square-shaped face, the sharp jawline that balanced with slightly chubby cheeks, the thin lips that parted into a smile showing those bunny-like front teeth, and the medium beard that always made him look a little older than he really was. His wheatish, healthy skin seemed to glow in the picture, but Dhani knew it was nothing compared to how he looked in real life.
Her thumb brushed over his face in the photo. How many times had she done this? She couldn’t even count. From the moment she had started understanding love, she had known it was only him. She had asked for him from every god she prayed to, wished for him in front of every temple lamp, and whispered his name in front of every shooting star. From childhood to adulthood, her love hadn’t changed, hadn’t lessened, it had only grown, deeper and stronger.
“Only you, Akash,” she murmured softly, almost like a vow, before slipping the photo back into the drawer with care. She didn’t want anyone to see it, not even by accident.
She checked her hair once again in the mirror, patted her lehnga smooth, and walked out of her room. Her heart beat faster with every step that took her closer to the hall, where everyone had already gathered for the puja.
Every Diwali, Akash came home to Shimla. And every year, he visited her house with prasad, since her brother Dhruv and Akash had been inseparable since childhood. They weren’t just friends; they were like two halves of one soul, their bond stronger than blood. And through that bond, Akash had always been in Dhani’s life too. Always close, but always out of reach.
She walked into the hall, her dupatta brushing against her arm, her smile bright as she greeted everyone with a cheerful “Happy Diwali!” Her energy was infectious, her laughter bubbling out easily, and the older relatives teased her for looking so happy, as if she was glowing from the inside. They knew why, everyone knew, but no one ever said it out loud.
The puja started, the lamps and diyas lit, the prayers recited, the ringing of bells and shankh echoing in the decorated hall. Dhani folded her hands, bowing her head, but her thoughts weren’t entirely on the gods. They were waiting, counting down the moments until she would see him. Her heart fluttered at the thought.
When the puja ended, prasad was distributed, laughter and chatter filled the room, and the sound of music rose in the background. Without hesitation, Dhani was the first to step onto the small open space in the hall that had been cleared for dancing.
She had learned kathak since she was a little girl, and for her, dancing was as natural as breathing. Tonight, she didn’t just want to dance , she wanted to shine, to be seen, to be remembered.
The music quickened, and Dhani moved with it. Her lehnga twirled around her like liquid light, the silver and sky-blue blending into patterns that caught every eye. Her golden-brown hair lifted with every spin, catching the air, floating like strands of fire in dark night. Her wrists moved with grace, bangles clinking, her anklet chimed with every step , her steps fast yet delicate.
People clapped, some whistled, everyone watched. She looked less like a girl and more like a vision, a peacock dancing to the first drop of rain, a painting too radiant to ignore.
Her smile widened as she spun, as if the music itself was her secret, as if her happiness tonight was more than just Diwali.
And in truth, it was. Every movement was for him. Every twirl was a silent call to his eyes. She didn’t want anyone else’s admiration. She only wanted his.
And yes, his eyes were on her. She felt it even before she looked directly.
But when she finally let herself steal a glance, her breath caught.
Because while everyone else’s eyes shone with admiration, with awe and mesmarization, his were different.
His eyes were sharp, bitter, cutting into her like blades. The rage in them was unmistakable, cold and burning at once, and it froze her heart even as her body continued to dance.
She wanted his love. She had prayed for it, dreamed of it, lived for it. But tonight, like from past four diwali night, in that one look, she saw the same look. Same burning look. Something that scared her.
But it was not enough scary to dull her want for him.
And the music went on, her lehnga spun, her laughter still rang, but inside, her world had stopped at the weight of his stare. As a tear slipped from her right eye, which she wiped from her hand movements, turning away from the crowd.
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