Enjoy reading 🤗.

AUTHOR'S POV-

Three days. That was all it had been.

Just seventy-two hours since they had left Jaipur, and yet, for Ekakshi, it felt like a lifetime. Those few days at the palace had brought back fragments of her memory, awakened parts of her heart she didn't know were asleep. And in the midst of it all was him-Rivaan. Her Rivaan. Her "Aan."

But today was a different kind of chaotic.

She had just arrived in Delhi with her brothers-Ronav and Rudraveer. Their Sikar visit had been short but refreshing, enough to rejuvenate before diving into the madness of city life again. And the moment they walked into their Delhi house, familiarity hit her like a warm embrace. Her slippers thudded lightly against the wooden floors as she kicked them off near the shoe rack, stretching her arms wide as if she could hug the walls.

"Aaahhh! Delhi ki polluted hawa bhi kitni pyari lagti hai ghar ke andar aake," she declared dramatically, plopping onto the living room couch.

(Aaahhh! Even the polluted air of Delhi feels so lovely once you're back home.)

Ronav rolled his eyes as he dumped a suitcase to the side.

"Pollution pe poems mat likh, drama queen. Aur jaldi fresh ho jao, Rudra bhaiya aaj dinner banane wale hain," he smirked.

(Don't write poems about pollution, drama queen. And go freshen up quickly - Rudra Bhaiya is cooking dinner tonight!)

That one sentence made her shoot upright like a missile.

"WHAT! Bhaiya you're cooking today? Oh my God oh my God, sab kuch hamara favorite banega naa?" she asked, eyes sparkling like a kid in Disneyland.

(WHAT! Bhaiya, you're cooking today? Oh my God, oh my God - everything will be my favorite, right?)

Rudraveer, calm as ever, walked in from the kitchen area, sleeves rolled up, apron tied, a slight smile dancing on his lips.

"Haan haan. Bawarchi jo hoon tum dono ka. Tumhare jhagde shuru hone se pehle hi kaam shuru kar diya tha maine."

(Yeah, yeah. After all, I'm the personal chef for you two. I had already started cooking before your bickering even began.)

"Jhagde? Abhi tak shuru kahan hue hain," Ekakshi said sweetly. "Par ab ho jaayenge," she added, shooting a look at Ronav.

(Bickering? It hasn't even started yet! But now it will!)

"Mujhe normal pasta chahiye," Ronav said firmly.

(I want regular pasta.)

"Par hame pink sauce pasta. PINK!" she yelled back, standing up from the couch and planting her hands on her hips.

(But I want pink sauce pasta. PINK!)

"Pink sauce pasta koi khana hota hai kya? Yeh bhi koi taste hai? Arre, tomato-based sauce sabse authentic hota hai," Ronav countered.

(Is pink sauce pasta even real food? Does that even have any taste? I mean, tomato-based sauce is the most authentic!)

"Authenticity ka crown Aap rakho. Hame bas creamy, cheesy, tangy pink sauce pasta chahiye, warna hum alag ghar me shift ho jayenge," she threatened dramatically.

(You can keep the crown of authenticity. I just want creamy, cheesy, tangy pink sauce pasta - or I'll move into a different house!)

"Good. Shift ho ja. Main toh shaanti se TV dekh paunga," Ronav quipped, settling on the other end of the sofa.

(Good. Go ahead and move out. At least I'll be able to watch TV in peace.)

They both stuck their tongues out at each other simultaneously.

Rudraveer, ignoring every bit of their theatrical war, continued chopping vegetables with laser focus. A soft hum escaped him as if he were in a world untouched by their chaos.

Ekakshi squinted suspiciously at the kitchen.

"Bhaiyaaa," she whispered like a spy. She tiptoed her way to the kitchen and peeked over the counter.

Her eyes caught the sight of creamy pink sauce bubbling lightly in a pan.

"YESSSSSSSSS!" she squealed in victory.

Without a second's delay, she leapt forward and practically squeezed Rudraveer into a tight bear hug from behind.

"My favorite-est bhaiya in the worldddd! You made PINK SAUCE PASTA!! I love youuuu!" she said, wiggling him in joy.

Rudraveer let out a helpless laugh. "Pasta ban raha hai na, haddiyan mat tod."

(The pasta is getting made, right? Don't go breaking any bones.)

"Main bhiiii!" came a shout from the hall, and Ronav rushed into the kitchen, joining the hug sandwich.

(Me tooo!)

"Group hug! Chhoti ne pasta ke liye hug kiya, main Rasmalai ke liye hug kar raha hoon," Ronav said, wrapping his arms around both his siblings.

"Rasmalai?" Ekakshi's eyes lit up. "YES! That's what I want for dessert! Ronav Bhaiyaaa, please na rasmalai banana. Pleaseeeee!"

Ronav sighed. "Abhi abhi toh mujhse ladai kar rahi thi."

(Just a moment ago, you were fighting with me.)

"Abhi toh nai kar rahi na, aur aage bhi nahi karungi." she pouted.

(Well, I'm not fighting now, am I? And I won't fight in the future either.)

"Last time bhi aise hi kaha tha, " Ronav taunted.

(That's exactly what you said last time too.)

She showed him his puppy eyes. Trying her best to convince him.

"Acha fine! Kal subah ki coffee mai banaungi aap dono ke liye."

(Alright, fine! I'll make coffee for both of you tomorrow morning.)

Both the brothers looked at her.

Together: "Nahi chahiye."

("Don't want it.)

She gasped in mock offense. "How rude!"

And just like that, they were bickering again. Throw pillows flew across the kitchen counter. Ronav was chasing her with a spatula while she grabbed a tomato as a self-defense weapon. Rudraveer had to pause the pasta stirring twice to duck.

"Can you both NOT start World War 3 in the kitchen?" he groaned.

Ten minutes later, peace finally returned.

The table was set.

Steaming bowls of pasta-one in classic red sauce, the other in creamy pink. A beautifully garnished bowl of chilled rasmalai waited patiently in the fridge.

They sat down together, Ekakshi squirming excitedly in her chair, unable to wait.

"Drama queen," Ronav muttered, digging into his plate.

But the moment the pasta touched her tongue, she froze. Eyes closed. Hands over heart.

"Bhaiyaaa, you are not just a chef, you are an artist! A magician! A culinary god!"

Ronav rolled his eyes. "Ab inko Oscar bhi de do."

(Now just give them an Oscar too!)

Rudraveer only smiled, savoring the rare moment of pure joy between his siblings. Their laughter filled the house, the kind that made walls smile.

The dinner continued with stories, jokes, debates over which Netflix series to binge next, and more fights about who would take the last rasmalai.

In the end, as always, Ekakshi managed to win with a combination of puppy eyes and a clever distraction.

And as she sat back, licking the rasmalai syrup off her spoon, she sighed in contentment.

This. This was home.

Chaos, comfort food, and unconditional love.

EKAKSHI'S POV-

Dinner was perfect.

Rudra Bhai made my pink sauce pasta - ugh, exactly how I like it. Creamy, with that subtle tang, and don't even get me started on the way the cheese just melts with every bite. Ronav bhai kept teasing me the entire time, making fun of how I become a cartoon whenever Rudra bhai cooks. And yes, I might've squeezed Rudra bhai too tight in that hug, but what can I do? Food is my second love. My first...? Well... let's not go there. Not yet.

After dinner, I escaped the warmth of the dining table chaos and came to my room. The familiar scent of lavender floated in the air - thanks to the little diffuser I always keep near my bed. I slipped into my comfy pink pajamas and stood at the huge balcony connected to my room. The moon was glowing just like... just like the way his eyes shone when he looked at me for the first time in Jaipur.

Rivaan.

My fingers itched for him. My heart did that annoying thing where it thumped so loudly I felt it in my ears.

I held my phone tightly and hit call.

Ringing...

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"Ugh!" I let out a frustrated groan. "Pick up the call damn it."

He didn't pick up.

I pressed end, threw my head back dramatically, and started mimicking his voice.

"Main tumse roz milunga."

(I'll meet you daily)

"Haan haan, bada promise kiya tha jab hum Jaipur se nikle the. Sab jhooth tha. Jaan bolke bhaag gaye!" I mocked, throwing an invisible slipper at the air.

(Yeah, yeah - made such big promises when we left Jaipur. All of it was lies. Called me "Jaan" and then ran away!)

"Hatt bewakoof... saara pyaar main hi karun?" I whispered.

(Get lost, idiot... am I supposed to do all the loving?)

Then I stopped. My heart froze for a second.

I actually said that.

I actually... just admitted I was in love with him.

When did that happen? When did I start falling so hard, so fast? We just reconnected days ago - or well, I thought it was new. But my heart clearly knew him from lifetimes before. That mole, those eyes, his voice - my body reacted to him like it had known him before my mind did.

And then there were his gestures... the way he held me, protected me, looked at me like I was the only girl in this entire messed-up world.

The way he whispered "I love you ruhh."

That name. That name... no one else ever called me that. Only him. And the way he said it, like a prayer he had waited years to recite again.

I hugged myself tighter, the Delhi night breeze making my cheeks cold - but inside, everything was warm. Blushing, I sat down on the balcony swing, thinking of all our little moments. Him chasing me around with those damn shoes, pinning me to the wall with that naughty smirk, saying, "Akela abla mard dekhke faayda utha rahi ho? Sharam nahi aati?"

Sharam? Mujhe? Jab wo khud bina shirt ke khade the mere saamne?

Mera toh... dam hi nikal gaya tha.

I buried my face in my knees, laughing softly, feeling like a teenager in love for the very first time. My fingers absentmindedly opened our chat, scrolling up through the little teases and emojis. He was always so expressive with me - gentle, soft, and annoying all in one.

I hit call again.

Still no answer.

This time, I didn't curse. I just stared at the screen. Maybe he was really busy. I mean, he did say his workload was crazy this week... But still... couldn't he just pick up for a second?

I sighed and got up, about to walk back to bed when my phone buzzed.

1 New Message.

From: Aan💖

> Sorry jaan, I'm badly caught up with loads of work right now. Couldn't talk. But I swear, the moment I'm back, the first thing I'll do is come to you. Please don't worry, and sleep now. I love you... my ruhh.

My heart literally melted. My eyes welled up. Not sad tears, but the ones that came when someone knew exactly what to say without even hearing your voice.

I stared at his words for a long, long time.

"Hum bhi aapse pyaar karne lage hain, Mr. Akdu..." I whispered, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. But this one... was a happy tear.

(I've started falling in love with you too, Mr. Grumpy...)

I gently kissed the phone screen, smiling like a fool, cheeks heating again.

How did I fall so fast?

How did he become my habit in just days?

Was this what they called soul connection?

Maybe. Because without knowing everything... I already felt like he was mine.

Giving him a quick reply, I walked to bed, placed the phone beside my pillow like a treasure, and turned off the lights.

Before drifting into sleep, I whispered softly into the darkness:

"Jaldi aana... main aur intezaar nahi kar sakti."

(Come soon... I can't wait any longer.l

And that night, I slept hugging my pillow like I was hugging him - his cologne still lingering in my mind, his smile warming my dreams.

RIVAAN'S POV-

The last three days felt like a damn blur.

One moment, I was waving goodbye to her outside the Jaipur haveli, forcing a smile, promising we'd see each other soon - and the next, I was on a red-eye flight to the UK. Emergency board meeting. Internal crisis. Same bloody corporate circus. Only difference this time?

My mind... my heart... my everything had stayed back in India - with her.

Ekakshi.

My ruhh.

It was ridiculous, really. The way she just... walked back into my life, unannounced, unaware of the space she still held in my soul. I still remember that exact moment. How I stood still the second I saw her for the first time in years - dressed simply, but looking like a dream. She didn't remember me. Not the way I remembered her. Not the laughter we'd shared, not the stolen glances on college campus, not the bike rides and the promises we made under the stars...

Not the love.

And that shattered me. More than I'd ever admit.

But I didn't blame her. Not even for a second. Life had been cruel to her. That accident took more than just memories - it took away us. And still, she stood in front of me, with those eyes I'd memorised, the voice that still echoed in my dreams, and that smile - that bloody smile - that made everything right in the world.

I didn't want to remind her of the past. I didn't want to throw emotional baggage on her fragile shoulders. What I wanted... was for her to fall in love with me again.

From the start.

To build something new, while secretly cherishing the old.

And the funny thing? She was falling again. I could see it - in the way she looked at me, laughed at my dumb jokes, blushed when I came too close, or the way her voice softened when she said my name.

Well, my new name. "Mr. Akdu", as she liked to call me.

Bloody hell.

She was bringing colour back into my black-and-white world. And now, sitting 30,000 feet above the ground, I couldn't stop smiling like a fool.

Yeah, I was finally on the flight back to India.

The moment the UK meeting ended, I ran to my house , packed whatever I could find, left the rest behind and bolted to the airport. I didn't even wait for the driver. Tossed my suit jacket in the back seat, loosened my tie, and drove myself like a madman.

And yet, I didn't tell her.

I didn't want to text, didn't want to call, didn't want to give anything away.

Because this time... I wanted to see that glow in her eyes when I surprise her.

I opened her chat on my phone and scrolled up to her last message - that little pink heart beside her name always made me smirk.

From: My Ruhh💖

> Can't wait to meet you Mr. Akdu. Come back soon and take care.

My heart literally clenched.

"Bloody hell, woman..." I whispered, resting my head against the plane's cold window, eyes closed, smiling softly. "You've ruined me, haven't you?"

She had no idea I was already on my way.

She had no idea the sheer insanity I felt being away from her these three days. I couldn't eat properly. Couldn't sleep. Kept rewatching her goofy videos from Jaipur. Scrolled through those ridiculous selfies we took during the wedding madness. I even saved one where she was laughing with Ice cream on her cheek. Ridiculous. Adorable.

I still remember her scent. Lavender and vanilla. It's stuck in my hoodie.

I hadn't washed it on purpose.

Judge me. I don't bloody care.

I leaned back in the seat, staring at the plane ceiling, letting my thoughts drift back to her. The way her fingers gripped my shirt when she cried into my chest. The way she whispered she didn't want to go away from me. The way her eyes pleaded for me to stay.

And all I could do then was hug her tighter.

And promise.

Now, I was coming to keep that promise.

I imagined her reaction when I'd call her after landing.

She'd probably scream. Or call me "Akdu" again in that angry-soft voice. Or maybe cry. Hell, I didn't know. But I knew one thing - the moment I hear her voice, all of this distance, this waiting, the ache in my chest...

It'll all be worth it.

I looked down at my phone screen one more time.

I didn't reply to her message yet. I didn't want to. Not yet.

I wanted my reply to be in person. With arms wrapped around her, with her face buried in my neck, with her whispering "Don't go."

I wanted to kiss her forehead. Like always.

Huhh.... I can't wait anymore.

After sometime:

The flight had landed twenty minutes ago.

The bustling chaos of Delhi Airport surrounded me - impatient honks, luggage trolleys crashing into each other, the oddly comforting scent of chai from a nearby kiosk. I adjusted the strap of my backpack and was about to pull out my phone to text her.

> Landed.

But just before I hit send, a thought crept into my mind.

What if... I just show up at her place?

A slow smirk spread across my lips - a rare expression, one that barely existed in the outside world anymore.

That smile stayed on for exactly ten seconds... until I stepped out and remembered: This is Delhi.

And Delhi comes with its one true love - Traffic.

I sighed heavily and let the driver load my bags into the back of the car. My face returned to its usual cold, stone-carved expression. You know - the one that gives board members chills and sends interns scurrying? That one.

As the car began crawling along the congested road like a snail with a limp, my patience began evaporating like water on a tawa in June heat. My fingers tapped violently against my thigh. The driver turned on the radio - some over-energetic RJ talking about heartbreak. I switched it off with a glare.

Thirty minutes passed.

I was still on the same bloody flyover.

I leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on. Horns blared. A bus driver shouted something colourful in Hindi. I'd had enough.

With a frustrated grunt, I slammed the door open and stepped out. I slammed the car door shut and walked toward the front of the mess. Someone was going to hear from me.

But before I could explode on the poor traffic constable, a familiar voice called out, "Aye, Rivuuu!"

I turned.

Ronav.

There he was, stepping out of his own SUV like a scene out of an action film - sunglasses, smirk and all. He swaggered toward me with that lazy confidence.

"You're back?" he asked, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

"Yeah," I grumbled, running a hand through my hair. "And stuck in this godforsaken traffic. I swear to God, Ronav, I'm about to lose my mind. I just want to see her. I'm done waiting."

Ronav chuckled. "She's going to kill you, man. She's been roaming around like a ghost. Keeps checking her phone every 10 minutes and pretending she's not waiting for your message."

My stomach did a flip.

I groaned. "I know. I feel like I'm failing her. But what can I do? I've already spent three days in UK in bloody Manchester wishing I was with her. Now I'm twenty minutes away and stuck behind a milk van and a tempo full of mattresses!"

In my frustration, I banged the car bonnet with the flat of my hand. "This damn traffic!"

Ronav raised an eyebrow and leaned against the bonnet beside me, totally unaffected. "You know... Our house is just five minutes from here. On foot."

I froze.

"What?"

He nodded slowly. "Yep. Walking distance. Just take that lane, second right, red gate, big bougainvillaea tree out front. You can thank me later."

I didn't need to hear another word.

"Ronav, you're a bloody genius!" I hugged him like a madman and didn't wait for his sarcastic response. I was already sprinting across the road like a lunatic.

Dodging bikers. Ignoring honks. Smiling for the first time in days.

Because I was finally going to see her.

Few minutes passed.

I stopped outside the house.

Red gate. Check. Bougainvillaea falling all over the walls. Check.

My heart was racing. Not from the jog - well, partly - but mostly because of what was about to happen.

I stood there for a moment, trying to fix my hair, wiping off the sweat from my forehead, adjusting my shirt, only to remember...

She doesn't care about any of that.

She just wants me.

I stood before the red gate, heart racing faster than a stock market crash on budget day. The house looked calm. Too calm. Eerily calm.

I pushed open the gate slowly, preparing myself to sneak in like a true romantic hero. Just as I took one gloriously stealthy step forward-

"Stop!"

Ten. Yes, TEN guards surrounded me.

Where did they even come from?! Were they hiding in the bushes? Hanging upside down from trees?

A flashlight hit my eyes. "Who are you?" One barked, face so serious you'd think I was there to steal Kohinoor, not just a girl's heart.

I groaned internally. Why is her house more secure than the PM's?

I raised both my hands like a criminal surrendering. "Uh... I'm Rivaan. Rivaan Randhawa."

No reaction. Just more scowling and tightening of grips on their lathis.

I sighed and pulled out my phone. Dialled Ronav.

He picked up in two rings.

"Bhai, tell your army to let me in!" I hissed into the phone.

He laughed. "Oh crap, forgot to warn you. Yeah yeah, put it on speaker."

I did as he said. He told them that he knows me and let me go in.

I looked at the guards again. "May I," I added with the most annoyed and sarcastic smile ever.

One of them confirmed via walkie-talkie. Then came the slow nods and awkward coughs.

"Maafi chahta hoon sir, protocol tha."

(Sorry sir. It's a protocol.)

Protocol? Bro, is this a wedding or a warzone?

I shook my head, waved it off, and stepped into the mansion.

The air smelled like fresh lilies and home. The faint music echoed from upstairs.

Before I could climb, an elderly woman-probably in her early 50s-approached me.

"Beta, kuch chahiye? Aap kaun?"

(Dear, you need something? Who are you?)

I gave a polite smile. "I'm Rivaan... actually, I was hoping to see Ekakshi."

The woman's eyes lit up like Diwali lights. "Arre OHHH! Rivaan!" she pointed at me like she'd just uncovered a long-lost family heirloom. "Toh aap hain wo?"

(So... it's you?)

I gave an awkward chuckle. "Guilty as charged?"

She smiled, clearly delighted. "First floor, left room."

"Thanks," I said, hiding my growing curiosity and excitement.

With each step on that wooden staircase, my heart pounded louder. Was she asleep? On a call? Watching a movie and crying over some imaginary heartbreak?

I reached the door.

Knock knock.

No answer.

Knock knock knock.

Still silence.

I frowned.

One more, with a little more strength this time.

KNOCK-

The door creaked open on its own... and a BLAST of music hit me in the face like a bucket of cold water.

🎶 "Pink lips... pink lips... pink lips, pink lips..." 🎶

What the-?

And then...

I saw her.

There. In the centre of the room. Ekakshi.

She stood in front of her mirror, bathed in soft yellow lights, hair slightly damp, dancing like she was the star of a music video no one else was supposed to see.

Wearing only a white bathrobe.

It barely reached her upper thighs, hugging her in ways that made my heart skip, crash, tumble, and completely shut down.

And oh my god, the way she was moving-

Hips swaying, arms twirling, body rolling with each beat. Her lips mouthing the lyrics like she meant every damn word. Holding her comb like a microphone, flipping her hair dramatically like she was auditioning for the song.

🎶 "Mujhe aadhi raat ko satane lage

Mujhe apne saath tadpane lage

Tu aaja paas ye bulane lage..." 🎶

She turned, tossed her head back, let the music guide her like a seductress in her own private world.

🎶 "Tujhe chhuuna chaahe

Mere ye

Mere ye

Mere Pink lips... Pink lips... Pink lips... Pink lips...." 🎶

My feet stayed rooted at the threshold.

Mouth: Wide open.

Eyes: Stuck like buffering YouTube.

Heart: DEAD.

And then.

As the music built, she reached for the knot of her robe... slowly... fingers teasing the belt...

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

To be continued...

💖｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡💖

I hope you like this chapter.

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Byeeeeee ☺️