Prologue: Shadows of the Past
The rain fell relentlessly, drumming a steady rhythm againstthe windows of the old café where Geet sat alone, her fingers wrapped around awarm cup of tea. Outside, the world blurred beneath a curtain of droplets, butinside, memories sharp and vivid cut through the quiet hum of the evening.
She glanced at the small wooden drawer beside her — the oneshe had labeled simply: “MSK”. Inside it lay a bundle of letters, eachone a fragment of a past she had tried to lock away. Letters that spoke oflove, promises, heartbreak, and silence.
Geet’s eyes traced the rain streaking down the glass,mirroring the storm raging inside her.
Five years.
Five years since she had last seen him — Maan Singh Khurana.The man who had once been the center of her world, and the reason for a woundshe wore silently.
Their story hadn’t been simple.
Back then, in the bustling corridors of their college,amidst late-night study sessions and stolen glances, a love had blossomed thatfelt as inevitable as the changing seasons. Maan, with his sharp wit andguarded heart, had been both a challenge and a comfort. Geet, with herunwavering kindness and quiet strength, had been the light that had slowlymelted the ice around him.
But fate had other plans.
Misunderstandings, pride, and unspoken fears had built awall between them — a wall neither had dared to tear down.
And then, one day, Maan had left.
Without explanation, without goodbye.
Geet remembered the day clearly.
The hollow ache in her chest as she found the letter he’dleft behind, words carefully chosen but leaving more questions than answers.
“I’m sorry, Geet. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Pleasedon’t wait for me.”
She had tried not to.
She had thrown herself into her work, planning weddings forothers while her own heart remained tangled in the past.
And then came Aryan.
Aryan was different.
Kind, patient, and steady — the kind of man who madepromises with his actions, not just words.
He had entered her life gently, offering a hand to hold anda future that seemed safe and certain.
Geet had accepted, trying to convince herself that the pastwas behind her, that she could move on.
But some memories refuse to fade.
Tonight, sitting alone in that café, Geet felt the weight ofthose memories pressing down harder than ever. The letters, the rain, thesilence between heartbeats — they all whispered the truth she couldn’t denyanymore.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the spell.
A message from her assistant: “Client confirmed.Architect arriving tomorrow — Maan Singh Khurana.”
Her breath caught.
Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of timing.
She closed her eyes, trying to steady the storm inside.
Tomorrow, she would see him again.
The man she had loved, lost, and never truly forgotten.
The man who was supposed to be only a memory.
But memories have a way of coming back to life — especiallywhen the heart refuses to let go.
Geet took a deep breath, folding the letter from Maan oncemore before tucking it back into the drawer.
Outside, the rain began to ease, the first stars peekingthrough the clearing sky.
And somewhere, beyond the horizon, a new story was waitingto begin.
Chakravarti Samrat Prithviraj Chauhan
Mangal Lakshmi
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