In 1998, singer Bhanu Shukla and music director Mahadev Tiwari fall deeply in love, only to separate because of ego and heartbreak. Decades later, fate reunites their unfinished melody through Rajji Bajpayee and Dheeraj Tiwari, whose chaotic romance unknowingly echoes a love story that time could never truly erase.
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Yeh rishta boring and bland kehlata hai
Maan Geet 3S : The Returning love[Part 2 on Pg 2]
Cast & Characters
Garvita Sadhwani as Young Bhanu Shukla / Manasi Salvi as Old Bhanu Bajpayee
A gifted singer with a fiery temper and an intensely emotional heart, Bhanu loves deeply but struggles with pride and vulnerability. Once passionately in love with Mahadev Tiwari, fate leads her toward a different life with Yash Bajpayee. Beneath her strength lies a woman forever haunted by unfinished music and love.
Aasim Khan as Young Mahadev Tiwari/ Shakti Anand as Old Mahadev Tiwari
A calm, talented music director from Hardoi, Mahadev balances Bhanu's storms with patience and quiet affection. Thoughtful, observant, and emotionally restrained, he carries the scars of a love lost to ego and timing. Even years later, music remains his refuge, and Bhanu remains the melody he never truly forgot.
Garvita Sadhwani as Rajji Bajpayee
Vibrant, stubborn, and unapologetically dramatic, Rajji lights up every room she enters. Beneath her chaotic energy lies fierce loyalty and emotional depth. A college excursion to Delhi unexpectedly changes her life when she collides with Dheeraj Tiwari, beginning a romance that unknowingly mirrors her mother's unfinished past.
Aasim Khan as Dheeraj Tiwari
Calm, sharp-witted, and effortlessly charming, Dheeraj hides his emotions behind humor and composure. Unlike Rajji's expressive nature, he observes more than he speaks. Arriving in Delhi for a friend's wedding, he never expects a stubborn stranger to disrupt his carefully controlled world and awaken emotions he cannot ignore.
Chapter 1 (When Music Became Home)
Hardoi, 1998
The Storm Inside SurSangam Studios
Rainwater dripped steadily from the old tiled roof of SurSangam Studios, one of the most famous recording spaces in Hardoi. Outside, the streets smelled of wet mud and monsoon rain, while inside the studio, another storm was brewing entirely.
“This is the LAST time I’m singing this line!”
Bhanu pulled off her headphones dramatically and glared through the recording booth glass.
“Either finalize this take or find another singer, Mahadev!”
The tabla player immediately looked down at his instrument.
The keyboardist slowly stopped playing midway.
Even the sound engineer avoided eye contact.
Nobody in the studio liked getting trapped between Bhanu’s temper and Mahadev’s impossible perfectionism.
Behind the glass panel, Mahadev sat calmly in his chair, adjusting the audio levels without the slightest panic on his face.
White kurta. Sleeves folded neatly. Calm eyes that somehow became even calmer when Bhanu lost her temper.
“You’re missing the emotion in the last line,” he said softly into the microphone.
Bhanu stared at him in disbelief.
“Emotion?” she repeated loudly. “You made me sing this song sixteen times!”
“Seventeen,” Mahadev corrected gently.
The musicians exchanged helpless looks.
Bhanu shoved the recording booth door open and stormed straight into the control room.
“You enjoy irritating me, don’t you?”
Mahadev removed his headphones slowly and looked up at her with that infuriatingly patient expression.
“That depends,” he replied. “Are you irritated?”
A few people instantly hid their laughter.
Bhanu pointed a finger at him.
“Don’t joke with me right now!”
“I’m not joking.”
“You rejected a perfect take!”
Mahadev leaned back slightly in his chair.
“You sang the lyrics correctly,” he said calmly. “But not the feeling.”
Bhanu folded her arms angrily.
“Oh, really? And what feeling am I supposed to magically create now?”
Mahadev looked at her quietly for a second.
“The feeling of missing someone you can’t live without.”
The room fell silent.
Bhanu’s expression flickered for the briefest moment before she quickly looked away.
Only Mahadev could do this to her.
Only he could turn her anger into nervous silence within seconds.
Anyone else speaking to her like that would have already been thrown out of the studio.
“You think you know everything,” she muttered.
“No,” Mahadev said softly. “Only you.”
A Love Everyone Already Knew About
The musicians immediately pretended to become extremely busy.
Everyone in Hardoi’s music circle already knew about Bhanu and Mahadev.
The famous singer with a volcanic temper.
And the quiet music director who somehow handled her like she was made of glass instead of fire.
Mahadev turned toward the musicians.
“Ten-minute break.”
Nobody wasted a second escaping the room.
Within moments, the studio was empty except for Bhanu and Mahadev.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Bhanu stood near the console with her arms crossed stubbornly.
“You embarrassed me in front of everyone.”
Mahadev watched her for a long moment before standing up.
He walked toward her slowly, stopping just close enough for her to catch the faint scent of rain and sandalwood on his clothes.
“You know why I keep making you repeat lines?”
Bhanu refused to answer.
“Because when you sing properly,” he continued quietly, “people forget the world around them.”
Bhanu’s anger weakened immediately.
That was the problem.
Mahadev never fought her anger with anger.
He softened it instead.
And somehow that affected her far more.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“And you’re dramatic.”
Bhanu gasped. “Excuse me?”
Mahadev smiled faintly.
There it was.
That stupid smile.
The one capable of ruining every argument she planned.
“You were born angry, Bhanu.”
“And you were born irritating.”
“Maybe.”
Bhanu tried to remain annoyed but failed miserably when he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The movement was soft. Familiar.
Intimate in the way only long love stories become.
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” Mahadev murmured.
“I’m always angry.”
“I know.”
Bhanu finally laughed softly.
The sound echoed warmly through the studio.
When Music Sounded Like Love
Outside, Hardoi continued drowning in rain.
Inside, Bhanu forgot every reason she had for being angry.
Mahadev walked back toward the console and replayed the unfinished melody filling the studio softly. Bhanu listened quietly as the tune floated through the speakers.
“This song is impossible,” she said after a moment.
Mahadev glanced at her. “Why?”
“Because every time I sing it, it feels too real.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
“That’s why it will become memorable.”
Bhanu looked at him carefully.
“How do you always know what I’m feeling?”
Mahadev adjusted one of the sound controls casually.
“You speak through your voice before you speak through words.”
Bhanu stared at him silently for a few seconds.
Then she shook her head dramatically.
“That sounded very poetic.”
“It was supposed to.”
“You definitely practiced saying that.”
Mahadev laughed softly under his breath.
And just like that, the storm disappeared again.
Because no matter how fiercely Bhanu burned, Mahadev always knew how to quiet the flames without ever trying to extinguish them.
Bhanu walked back into the recording booth with a dramatic sigh, adjusting the dupatta over her shoulder.
“If this take also gets rejected,” she warned, pointing at Mahadev through the glass panel, “I’m leaving.”
Mahadev pressed a button on the console.
“You say that every day.”
“And one day I’ll actually do it.”
“No,” he replied calmly. “You’ll come back after ten minutes.”
Bhanu narrowed her eyes.
“You’re very overconfident.”
“You’re very predictable.”
The musicians burst into laughter before immediately becoming silent when Bhanu glared at them.
Mahadev hid his smile behind his hand.
Bhanu placed the headphones back on and closed her eyes as the music began again.
The studio slowly filled with the soft sound of violins.
Then Bhanu started singing.
And suddenly everything changed.
The same woman who argued, shouted, and threatened to quit every fifteen minutes transformed completely when she sang.
Her voice carried emotion so naturally that even silence seemed to listen.
Mahadev watched her quietly through the glass.
This was his favorite version of Bhanu.
Not the angry one.
Not the dramatic one.
This one.
The Bhanu who disappeared into music so completely that the world around her stopped existing.
The final line approached.
Bhanu opened her eyes slightly, looking toward Mahadev while singing the last words.
Something in her voice shifted.
Softer.
More vulnerable.
As though she actually understood the ache hidden inside the lyrics now.
The song ended.
Silence filled the studio.
Nobody moved.
The tabla player looked emotional.
One of the assistant musicians actually whispered, “Perfect…”
Mahadev slowly removed his headphones.
Bhanu immediately crossed her arms defensively inside the booth.
“Well?” she demanded through the microphone. “What impossible flaw did you find now?”
Mahadev looked at her for a long moment before pressing the recording button.
“That,” he said quietly, “was beautiful.”
Bhanu blinked.
The musicians exchanged knowing smiles.
Compliments from Mahadev were rare.
Genuine praise from him was even rarer.
Bhanu tried to hide how happy she suddenly looked.
“Hm,” she said casually. “Obviously.”
Mahadev chuckled softly.
The Drive Back Home
The recording session wrapped up nearly an hour later.
By the time everyone finally stepped outside the studio, the rain had reduced to a light drizzle.
Hardoi’s streets glistened beneath yellow streetlights.
Mahadev locked the studio door while Bhanu stood nearby under the awning, humming the melody they had recorded earlier.
“You’re still thinking about the song,” he observed.
“I’m thinking about how much you tortured me.”
Mahadev looked at her dryly. “Same thing.”
Bhanu laughed.
A motorcycle passed through the wet road nearby, splashing muddy water dangerously close to her sandals.
“Disgusting!” she complained instantly.
Mahadev shook his head with amusement before removing a clean handkerchief from his pocket and kneeling slightly to wipe the mud from her sandal.
Bhanu froze.
“Mahadev…”
“It’ll stain,” he replied simply.
People passed by on the street.
A few instantly recognized them.
Some smiled knowingly.
Others whispered to each other.
Bhanu looked embarrassed suddenly.
“Everyone’s staring.”
“Let them.”
“You don’t care about anything.”
“I care about important things.”
He stood back up slowly.
Bhanu looked at him quietly for a moment.
Then she asked softly, “And what’s important?”
Mahadev held her gaze steadily.
“You.”
For once, Bhanu had absolutely nothing to say.
The drizzle continued around them.
Somewhere nearby, an old radio played a romantic song faintly through static.
And for a brief moment, Hardoi felt impossibly still.
Mahadev opened the passenger-side door of his jeep for her.
Bhanu raised an eyebrow dramatically.
“Such manners.”
“I’m trying to impress you.”
“You’re very late.”
Mahadev smiled lightly. “Did it work?”
Bhanu pretended to think seriously before getting inside.
“A little.”
A Song, A Road, And Them
The jeep moved slowly through Hardoi’s rain-soaked streets.
Soft music played from the cassette player while droplets slid across the windshield rhythmically.
Bhanu rested her chin against the window, watching tiny shops and glowing streetlights pass by outside.
Mahadev glanced at her briefly.
“You’re unusually quiet.”
“I’m tired.”
“You only become quiet when you’re thinking too much.”
Bhanu sighed dramatically.
“Must you analyze everything about me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mahadev turned the steering wheel casually.
“Because you’re interesting.”
Bhanu looked at him suspiciously.
“You flirt very seriously.”
“And you fight very seriously.”
“That’s because people are annoying.”
Mahadev smiled faintly.
“And what am I?”
Bhanu looked at him for a few long seconds before answering softly—
“My favorite annoyance.”
The Tea Stall Confession
Mahadev slowed the jeep near a small roadside tea stall glowing beneath a flickering yellow bulb.
Bhanu frowned immediately.
“Why are we stopping?”
“Tea.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
Mahadev parked the jeep calmly. “And?”
“And civilized people sleep at this hour.”
“You screamed at me for three hours,” he replied while stepping out. “You lost the right to call yourself civilized.”
Bhanu gasped dramatically before quickly getting out after him.
The tea seller instantly recognized them.
“Arre, Mahadev bhaiya!” he exclaimed happily. “Recording khatam ho gaya?”
Mahadev nodded with a small smile.
“Do chai.”
The old man’s eyes shifted toward Bhanu knowingly.
“And Bhanu bitiya?” he asked carefully. “Aaj gussa kam kiya ya zyada?”
Bhanu folded her arms.
“Very funny.”
The tea seller laughed nervously while Mahadev quietly hid his amusement.
Rain dripped from the edge of the tin roof as the two stood beside the stall waiting for their tea.
Hardoi at night felt softer somehow.
Quieter.
More honest.
Bhanu rubbed her palms together against the cold breeze.
Without a word, Mahadev removed his shawl from the jeep and placed it around her shoulders.
Bhanu looked up at him.
“You’ll get cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I usually am.”
The tea seller handed them steaming glasses of chai.
Bhanu carefully blew on hers before taking a sip.
Then immediately made a face.
“This is too hot!”
Mahadev nearly laughed.
“You complain about everything.”
“Because everything irritates me.”
“Especially me.”
“Obviously.”
Mahadev leaned casually against the jeep, watching her over the rim of his tea glass.
Bhanu noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m looking.”
“There’s a difference?”
“A big one.”
Bhanu rolled her eyes but failed to hide her smile.
The rain became slightly heavier again, trapping them beneath the tiny shelter of the tea stall roof.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then Bhanu suddenly asked quietly—
“What if one day I stop singing for you?”
Mahadev looked at her properly now.
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because nobody understands your voice like I do.”
Bhanu’s expression softened.
“And if someone else does someday?”
Mahadev took a slow sip of tea before answering.
“They still won’t know you.”
The words settled somewhere deep inside her.
Dangerously deep.
Bhanu looked away first.
Because sometimes Mahadev spoke so gently that it frightened her.
As though he had already memorized every broken, angry, stubborn piece of her heart.
The Promise Beneath The Rain
By the time they finally left the tea stall, the rain had almost stopped.
The roads shimmered beneath moonlight hidden behind clouds.
Mahadev drove more slowly now, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel while old songs played softly from the cassette player.
Bhanu absentmindedly hummed along.
Then suddenly—
“Stop the jeep.”
Mahadev blinked.
“What happened?”
“Just stop.”
Confused, he pulled over near an empty field at the edge of town.
Bhanu stepped out immediately.
Mahadev followed her with a frown.
“What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, Bhanu walked straight into the middle of the wet road and stretched her arms outward toward the night sky.
The cold wind blew through her hair wildly.
Mahadev stared at her like she had lost her mind.
“Bhanu!”
She turned toward him with a grin.
“Come here.”
“It’s freezing.”
“You’re boring.”
Mahadev sighed in defeat before walking toward her.
The road around them was empty.
Only distant crickets and dripping rainwater filled the silence.
Bhanu looked up at him suddenly.
“Promise me something.”
Mahadev’s expression softened immediately.
“What?”
“That no matter how much we fight…” she said quietly, “…we’ll never become strangers.”
Something about her tone made him pause.
For the first time that night, Bhanu didn’t sound dramatic.
She sounded afraid.
Mahadev stepped closer.
Close enough to feel her trembling slightly from the cold.
“We fight every day,” he said softly.
“Exactly.”
“And every day we come back to each other.”
Bhanu looked at him silently.
Mahadev gently held her hand.
“That’s not going to change.”
The wind moved softly around them.
Bhanu stared at their joined hands for a few seconds before whispering—
“You promise?”
Mahadev smiled faintly.
“I promise.”
------
To be continued.
Chapter 2 (The Love Story Hardoi Already Knew)
The Famous Bhanu-Mahadev Fights
By the next morning, Hardoi already knew Bhanu and Mahadev had fought again.
Nobody knew the reason.
Nobody ever knew the reason.
But everyone always knew when it happened.
Because on fight days:
“Should we postpone today’s rehearsal?” one assistant whispered nervously.
The tabla player shook his head immediately.
“No. Yesterday they were fighting. Today they’ll flirt again.”
“Are you sure?”
“They’re impossible people. Don’t question their process.”
At that exact moment, the studio doors flew open.
Bhanu entered wearing a deep blue salwar suit, sunglasses, and an expression suggesting she was prepared to destroy lives.
Everyone instantly became busy.
Mahadev looked up from his notes briefly.
“You’re late.”
Bhanu removed her sunglasses slowly.
“You’re alive. Be grateful.”
The keyboardist quietly muttered, “Yes, they’re definitely still fighting.”
Mahadev calmly continued writing something on his music sheets.
“You switched your phone off.”
Bhanu sat down dramatically across from him.
“I was angry.”
“You were angry because I slept.”
“You slept during our argument!”
“It was two in the morning.”
“You still could’ve stayed awake emotionally.”
Even Mahadev looked impressed by the logic.
Bhanu folded her arms stubbornly.
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s my dialogue,” Mahadev replied calmly.
A few musicians accidentally laughed.
Bhanu glared at them instantly.
“None of you have work?”
Everyone immediately scattered.
Mahadev finally looked at her properly.
There was still irritation on her face.
But beneath that—
something softer lingered.
Something only he ever noticed.
“You ate breakfast?” he asked casually.
Bhanu blinked.
“What?”
“Breakfast.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“So no.”
Bhanu looked offended.
“How do you always know?”
Mahadev simply pushed a paper packet toward her.
She opened it suspiciously.
Hot samosas.
Her favorite.
Bhanu stared at him.
“When did you buy these?”
“This morning.”
“You knew I’d skip breakfast?”
“You always skip breakfast after fighting.”
Bhanu looked away immediately.
And there it was again.
That terrifying feeling.
The feeling that Mahadev understood her even better than she understood herself.
It made loving him easy.
And frightening.
Music Rehearsals And Hidden Smiles
The rehearsal started an hour later.
Mahadev stood near the harmonium explaining a new composition while musicians carefully followed his instructions.
Bhanu sat nearby pretending not to pay attention.
In reality, she watched him constantly.
The way his fingers tapped rhythm unconsciously.
The way he closed his eyes while hearing melodies in his head.
The way his voice softened while discussing music.
Nobody else saw these things.
Bhanu did.
Because Bhanu noticed everything about him.
“Bhanu.”
She blinked.
Mahadev was looking directly at her now.
“You’re supposed to sing the next part.”
“Oh.”
The musicians instantly exchanged amused looks.
Bhanu cleared her throat awkwardly before standing up.
Mahadev started playing the melody slowly.
The room quietened.
And once again, the world narrowed down to just two people and music between them.
Bhanu sang softly at first.
Then stronger.
The lyrics floated beautifully through the studio.
Mahadev watched her with complete concentration.
Not as a music director.
Not even as a lover.
But as someone witnessing something sacred.
Bhanu noticed his expression midway through the song.
And suddenly forgot the lyrics entirely.
The music stopped.
Mahadev raised an eyebrow.
“What happened?”
Bhanu looked horrified.
“You distracted me!”
“I was sitting quietly.”
“You were staring!”
“That’s because you’re singing.”
The musicians immediately looked away to hide smiles.
Bhanu pointed accusingly at him.
“See? This is your problem!”
“My problem is appreciating my singer?”
“Your problem is existing.”
Mahadev nodded thoughtfully.
“That sounds serious.”
Bhanu failed to stop herself from laughing.
And just like that, the fight disappeared again.
Like it always did.
Hardoi Starts Talking
By evening, Bhanu and Mahadev were seated outside the studio sharing tea while discussing lyrics.
Which meant the entire city officially considered them reconciled again.
“Three days,” the tea seller told another customer confidently. “This fight lasted only three days.”
Across the street, two local boys grinned.
“They’ll definitely get married.”
“Obviously.”
“They already behave like husband and wife.”
Bhanu overheard that sentence immediately.
She nearly choked on her tea.
Mahadev calmly continued reading the lyrics sheet as though nothing happened.
Bhanu glared at him.
“Did you hear what they said?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not reacting?”
“What reaction do you want?”
“I don’t know! Something!”
Mahadev finally looked at her.
Then very casually asked—
A Question Bhanu Was Not Ready For
“You don’t want to marry me?”
Bhanu stared at Mahadev as though he had personally set Hardoi on fire.
The tea glass nearly slipped from her hand.
“What kind of question is that?!”
Mahadev calmly took another sip of tea.
“A normal one.”
“There is nothing normal about you.”
“You still didn’t answer.”
Bhanu looked around immediately.
Two aunties across the street were already staring at them with dangerous interest.
One of them whispered something excitedly to the other.
Bhanu lowered her voice instantly.
“Mahadev!”
“Hm?”
“People are listening!”
“That usually happens when humans speak loudly in public.”
Bhanu glared at him furiously.
“How are you this calm all the time?”
Mahadev folded the lyrics sheet carefully.
“Because one of us has to be.”
Bhanu opened her mouth to argue—
then stopped.
Because unfortunately, he was right.
Again.
“I’m leaving,” she announced dramatically, standing up.
Mahadev nodded casually.
“Okay.”
Bhanu blinked.
“Okay?”
“You said you’re leaving.”
“You’re not stopping me?”
“You’ll come back in five minutes.”
Bhanu looked genuinely offended now.
“You think I can’t stay angry?”
Mahadev finally looked up at her properly.
“No,” he said softly. “I think you can’t stay away.”
And just like that, her heartbeat betrayed her again.
Bhanu hated when he spoke like that.
Not because she disliked it.
Because she liked it too much.
The Entire Studio Ships Them
The next morning, SurSangam Studios was unusually energetic.
Not because of work.
Because Bhanu and Mahadev had apparently entered a “soft romance phase” again after their recent fight.
The musicians had theories about these phases.
Fight Phase:
Romantic Phase:
“Definitely romantic phase,” the drummer whispered confidently while setting up instruments.
“How do you know?”
“She wore jasmine flowers today.”
The assistant gasped.
“That serious?”
“Very serious.”
At that exact moment, Bhanu entered the studio carrying a steel tiffin box.
The entire room went silent.
Mahadev looked up from the harmonium.
Bhanu placed the tiffin in front of him casually.
“I made breakfast.”
The musicians exchanged emotional looks immediately.
Mahadev raised an eyebrow slightly.
“You cooked?”
“I can cook.”
“I know. I’m just surprised your kitchen survived.”
The musicians nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Bhanu smacked his shoulder instantly.
“You’re horrible!”
Mahadev opened the tiffin slowly.
A soft smell of aloo paratha filled the room.
For a second, he simply looked at the food quietly.
Bhanu suddenly looked nervous.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
Mahadev tore off a piece calmly.
Then took a bite.
The entire studio watched like this was a national event.
Mahadev chewed thoughtfully.
Bhanu looked seconds away from emotional collapse.
Finally, Mahadev nodded once.
“It’s good.”
The musicians burst into applause dramatically.
Bhanu looked scandalized.
“Why are all of you behaving like this?!”
“Because,” the tabla player declared emotionally, “true love still exists.”
Bhanu threw a cushion at him.
Mahadev laughed properly this time.
A rare, real laugh.
And Bhanu immediately forgot why she was pretending to be annoyed.
Lyrics Only They Understood
Later that afternoon, Mahadev sat beside the piano writing lyrics corrections while Bhanu leaned over his shoulder reading them upside down.
“You changed this line.”
“It sounded incomplete.”
“It was romantic.”
“It was dramatic.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“For you, maybe.”
Bhanu snatched the notebook from his hands.
Mahadev watched with amusement as she read the lyrics aloud dramatically—
“Dil ko aadat ho gayi hai… sirf ek awaaz ki…”
Her voice softened unconsciously while reading the line.
Mahadev noticed immediately.
“That line suits you,” he said quietly.
Bhanu looked up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mahadev leaned back in his chair.
“You get restless when I disappear for one day.”
Bhanu looked offended.
“That is completely false.”
“You called my house twelve times during our last fight.”
“I was checking if you were alive.”
“At two in the morning?”
Bhanu froze.
The musicians nearby immediately pretended not to listen.
Mahadev’s eyes filled with quiet amusement.
“You were worried.”
“I was bored.”
“You missed me.”
“You’re delusional.”
Mahadev smiled lightly.
Bhanu hated that smile.
Because it always looked like he already knew the truth before she admitted it herself.
The Woman In The Red Saree
That evening, SurSangam Studios hosted a small music gathering for local artists and producers from nearby cities.
Which meant two things:
“I don’t understand why I have to attend these things,” Bhanu muttered while adjusting the bangles on her wrist.
“Because you’re the lead singer of the album.”
“And?”
“And civilized people support their team.”
Bhanu narrowed her eyes instantly.
“You’ve been using the word civilized a lot lately.”
Mahadev looked thoughtful.
“I’m trying to inspire growth.”
Bhanu gasped dramatically.
Before she could argue further, one of the assistant musicians entered the room.
“Mahadev sir, everyone’s waiting outside.”
Mahadev nodded.
Then he looked toward Bhanu—
and stopped speaking entirely.
Bhanu frowned slightly.
“What?”
Mahadev didn’t answer immediately.
For the first time all evening, the calm expression on his face disappeared completely.
Bhanu looked down at herself self-consciously.
The red saree suddenly felt too bright.
Too noticeable.
“What happened?” she asked again, quieter this time.
Mahadev exhaled slowly.
“You look…”
Bhanu waited.
“…dangerous.”
She blinked.
“That’s your compliment?”
Mahadev stepped closer casually.
“If I say what I’m actually thinking,” he murmured, “we’ll never leave this room.”
Bhanu’s heartbeat stumbled instantly.
And Mahadev—annoyingly aware of his effect on her—walked past her toward the door calmly.
“Come before the guests assume we fought again.”
Bhanu stared at his back in disbelief.
Then muttered under her breath—
“One day I’ll kill this man.”
Everyone Could See It
The gathering was hosted in the courtyard of an old haveli converted into an event venue.
Warm fairy lights hung from trees.
Soft ghazals played in the background.
Writers, singers, and musicians moved around discussing projects over tea and snacks.
And somewhere in the middle of all that—
Bhanu and Mahadev continued behaving like two people painfully in love.
Mahadev introduced her to producers.
Bhanu corrected his song explanations dramatically.
Mahadev silently handed her water before she asked.
Bhanu fixed the collar of his kurta mid-conversation without realizing it.
At one point, an elderly lyricist smiled while watching them.
“How long have you both been married?”
Bhanu nearly inhaled her drink.
“We’re not married!”
The old man looked genuinely surprised.
Mahadev, meanwhile, looked entirely unbothered.
“People ask us that a lot,” he said calmly.
Bhanu turned toward him in horror.
“That is NOT helping!”
The elderly man laughed warmly.
“It’s obvious you love each other.”
For once, Bhanu had no dramatic comeback ready.
Because sometimes hearing the truth aloud felt strangely intimate.
Mahadev glanced toward her briefly.
And for a second, the noise around them faded.
No musicians.
No guests.
No music.
Just Bhanu looking at him beneath golden lights while the entire world quietly noticed what they already meant to each other.
Jealousy Looks Ugly On Bhanu
Unfortunately for everyone involved, the peaceful atmosphere lasted only forty minutes.
Then singer Reema Malhotra arrived.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
And entirely too interested in Mahadev.
“Mahadev ji!” she greeted brightly before touching his arm lightly. “I heard your new compositions are brilliant.”
Bhanu’s expression changed instantly.
The assistant drummer whispered nervously—
“Oh no.”
Mahadev greeted Reema politely while Bhanu stood nearby holding her juice glass like it had personally offended her.
Reema smiled sweetly.
“You never called me for your new project.”
Mahadev replied calmly, “Bhanu’s voice suited the songs better.”
Wrong answer.
Terrible answer.
Bhanu immediately looked less angry.
Reema, however, laughed lightly.
“You’re still obsessed with her voice?”
Mahadev answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
Bhanu froze.
So did half the musicians listening nearby.
Reema clearly hadn’t expected such a direct response either.
“Well,” she said awkwardly, “that’s very loyal of you.”
Bhanu tried—and failed—to hide her satisfaction.
Mahadev looked genuinely confused by the tension around him.
Which somehow made the situation worse.
The moment Reema finally walked away, Bhanu turned toward him.
“You could’ve answered more politely.”
Mahadev blinked.
“I was polite.”
“You embarrassed her.”
“I answered honestly.”
Bhanu crossed her arms.
“You really don’t notice when women flirt with you?”
Mahadev looked thoughtful for a second.
Then—
“You notice enough for both of us.”
Bhanu looked scandalized.
“I do NOT care!”
Mahadev nodded calmly.
“Of course.”
“I’m serious!”
“You threatened to break a juice glass five minutes ago.”
“That was unrelated.”
Mahadev smiled faintly.
Bhanu hated how impossible it was to win arguments against him.
Mostly because he never actually fought.
He simply waited for her emotions to expose themselves naturally.
------
To be continued.
Chapter 3 (Between Ego And Love)
The Song That Refused To End
The next few weeks passed in a blur of music, rehearsals, tea-stained lyric sheets, and Bhanu-Mahadev arguments that never lasted long enough to matter.
Their album was becoming popular beyond Hardoi now.
Music stores had begun placing their cassette tapes in front displays.
Local radio stations replayed Bhanu’s songs every evening.
People requested Mahadev’s compositions by name.
And unfortunately for Bhanu, people also enjoyed discussing their relationship almost as much as the music itself.
“Hardoi’s musical love story,” one magazine headline declared dramatically.
Bhanu nearly threw the magazine away.
“This is humiliating.”
Mahadev looked up from the piano calmly.
“You read the entire article.”
“I was hate-reading.”
“You underlined my interview answers.”
Bhanu immediately hid the magazine behind her back.
“That means nothing.”
Mahadev smiled lightly.
“You circled the part where I called your voice magical.”
Bhanu looked offended.
“You noticed that?”
“You pressed the pen so hard the mark reached the next page.”
The musicians burst into laughter.
Bhanu pointed at Mahadev threateningly.
“One day I’m genuinely going to murder you.”
Mahadev continued adjusting piano notes peacefully.
“After the album release, please.”
Small Cracks Nobody Noticed
That evening, the studio remained unusually busy.
Everyone rushed around preparing for an important producer meeting from Lucknow.
Mahadev had been working nonstop since morning.
Bhanu noticed immediately.
He skipped lunch.
Ignored tea.
Barely rested.
But every time she brought it up—
“I’m fine.”
That answer irritated her more than it should have.
“You haven’t even eaten properly,” she complained while following him through the studio corridor.
Mahadev continued reading production notes.
“I’ll eat later.”
“That’s what you said four hours ago.”
“I’m working.”
“And I’m talking to a wall.”
Mahadev stopped walking finally.
“Bhanu—”
“No, seriously!” she interrupted. “You can’t keep exhausting yourself like this.”
“I know how to manage my schedule.”
“And I know you forget everything when work starts.”
Mahadev sighed softly.
The exhaustion in his face was visible now.
But instead of softening Bhanu’s tone—
it sharpened it.
Because worry always became anger first with her.
“You think music is the only thing important in life!”
Mahadev looked at her quietly.
“That’s not fair.”
“And this is?” she shot back immediately. “You haven’t even looked at me properly all day!”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Silence followed instantly.
Bhanu looked away first.
Because suddenly the argument felt less about work.
And more about something she couldn’t explain aloud.
Mahadev’s expression softened slightly.
“You know that’s not true.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
Mahadev stared at her for a few seconds.
Then gently closed the file in his hands.
“What do you want me to do, Bhanu?”
The question should have calmed her.
Instead, it frustrated her even more.
Because she didn’t know the answer herself.
She just wanted—
something.
Attention.
Reassurance.
Priority.
Proof.
But Bhanu had never learned how to ask for those things softly.
So instead, she said sharply—
“Forget it.”
And walked away.
The Producer From Lucknow
By nightfall, the producer meeting finally began.
Mr. Sinha from Lucknow was exactly the kind of man Bhanu instantly disliked.
Too loud.
Too smug.
Too interested in money.
“This album will sell everywhere,” he declared excitedly while reviewing tracks. “Especially Bhanu ji’s songs.”
Bhanu forced a polite smile.
Mahadev discussed technical details calmly while musicians continued preparing equipment nearby.
Then Mr. Sinha laughed casually and said—
“But after marriage, female singers usually disappear from the industry anyway.”
The room quietened slightly.
Bhanu’s smile vanished immediately.
Mahadev noticed.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sinha continued speaking.
“It always happens. Husband, children, family responsibilities…” he shrugged. “Career ends automatically.”
Bhanu placed her tea cup down harder than necessary.
“And what if she doesn’t want that?”
Mr. Sinha laughed.
“Arre madam, eventually women have to compromise.”
Mahadev looked up slowly now.
Bhanu folded her arms.
“And men don’t?”
The producer waved dismissively.
“Men and women are different.”
The irritation burning inside Bhanu all evening finally exploded.
“No,” she snapped. “Society treats them differently.”
The room fell silent.
Mahadev watched her carefully.
Mr. Sinha looked awkward now.
“I didn’t mean anything offensive—”
“Then maybe think before speaking.”
“Bhanu,” Mahadev said quietly.
But she was already angry now.
The dangerous kind of angry.
The kind that listened to nobody.
“So according to you,” she continued sharply, “a woman should sacrifice her dreams after marriage?”
“That’s not what I—”
“Because if it is,” Bhanu interrupted coldly, “then maybe your thinking belongs in the last century.”
The producer looked embarrassed.
The musicians looked terrified.
And Mahadev—
looked tired.
That expression hurt Bhanu instantly.
But her pride had already taken control now.
Mahadev finally spoke calmly.
“That’s enough.”
Bhanu turned toward him in disbelief.
“You’re taking his side?”
“I’m ending the argument.”
“So now I’m the problem?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it!”
“Bhanu—”
“No,” she cut him off sharply. “Forget it.”
She grabbed her bag immediately and walked out of the studio before anyone could stop her.
The room remained silent long after she left.
Mr. Sinha cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I think she misunderstood me…”
Mahadev looked toward the studio doors quietly.
Then answered in a tired voice—
“No. She understood perfectly.”
The Silence After The Fight
For the first time in months, Bhanu did not answer Mahadev’s calls that night.
Not the first one.
Not the second.
Not even the seventh.
She sat alone on the terrace of her house, knees pulled to her chest while Hardoi slept quietly around her.
The anger inside her had cooled hours ago.
Now only hurt remained.
And unfortunately, hurt was far more dangerous.
Because anger made Bhanu loud.
Hurt made her silent.
Downstairs, her mother knocked on the terrace door softly.
“Bhanu?”
“I’m fine,” Bhanu replied automatically.
Which, of course, meant the exact opposite.
Her mother sighed knowingly before leaving her alone again.
Bhanu looked down at the pager lying beside her.
Another message from Mahadev.
Pick up the phone.
Five minutes later:
Don’t sleep angry.
Then:
Bhanu.
Just her name.
Nothing else.
And somehow that message affected her the most.
Bhanu stared at it for several seconds before switching the pager off entirely.
Because if she heard his voice now—
she would forgive him too quickly.
And her ego refused to allow that.
Mahadev Waits
Meanwhile, across town, Mahadev sat alone inside SurSangam Studios long after everyone had left.
The unfinished composition still played softly from the speakers.
Normally, Bhanu would still be there by now.
Complaining about lyrics.
Demanding tea.
Distracting him every ten minutes.
The silence felt unnatural without her.
Mahadev leaned back in his chair tiredly and rubbed a hand across his face.
The argument replayed repeatedly in his mind.
Not because Bhanu had shouted.
She always shouted.
But because this time—
something underneath the anger felt different.
More personal.
More fragile.
Mahadev closed his eyes briefly.
Then suddenly remembered something.
He stood up immediately, walked toward the piano, and opened the top drawer beside it.
Inside lay Bhanu’s notebook.
She had forgotten it earlier during the argument.
Mahadev picked it up carefully.
A small smile almost appeared on his face.
Until he noticed a folded page tucked between the lyrics.
Curious, he unfolded it slowly.
And froze.
It was not song lyrics.
It was his name.
Written absentmindedly across the page again and again.
Mahadev.
Mahadev.
Mahadev.
In different handwriting styles.
Different pen colors.
Some crossed out.
Some decorated with tiny musical notes beside them.
Mahadev stared at the page silently.
Then laughed softly under his breath for the first time all evening.
“Pagal ladki,” he murmured affectionately.
The Next Morning Feels Wrong
The following morning, the entire atmosphere inside SurSangam Studios felt uncomfortable.
Because Bhanu had still not arrived.
“That’s strange,” the drummer whispered.
“She’s never THIS angry.”
Mahadev said nothing.
He continued reviewing music sheets calmly.
Too calmly.
Which somehow worried everyone more.
One assistant finally gathered courage.
“Should we postpone today’s rehearsal?”
“No.”
“But Bhanu ji isn’t here.”
Mahadev’s fingers paused briefly over the papers.
Then continued moving again.
“She’ll come.”
The confidence in his voice surprised even him.
Because despite everything—
Bhanu always came back.
Hours passed.
Still no Bhanu.
By afternoon, even Mahadev had stopped pretending to focus properly.
Every sound near the studio entrance made him look up instinctively.
Every time disappointment followed.
Then finally—
The studio doors opened.
Bhanu entered wearing a pale yellow salwar suit, sunglasses, and enough attitude to terrify the entire building.
Nobody breathed.
Mahadev looked up slowly.
Their eyes met briefly.
And immediately looked away.
Something felt wrong.
Not angry.
Not explosive.
Just… distant.
Bhanu walked toward the microphone stand without speaking.
Mahadev stood up.
“You’re late.”
Bhanu adjusted the microphone calmly.
“Traffic.”
“There’s no traffic in Hardoi.”
“Then destiny delayed me.”
A few musicians almost smiled instinctively—
then stopped.
Because usually, even during fights, there was warmth beneath their arguments.
Today there wasn’t.
Mahadev noticed too.
“Bhanu—”
“Can we start rehearsal?” she interrupted politely.
Politely.
That frightened him more than shouting ever could.
Mahadev stared at her quietly for a second before nodding once.
“Fine.”
The music began softly.
Bhanu started singing.
Technically perfect.
Emotionally flawless.
And somehow completely empty.
Mahadev noticed immediately.
So did everyone else.
Because for the first time—
Bhanu sounded like she was singing for a stranger.
The Argument That Refused To Heal
The rehearsal ended badly.
Not because Bhanu sang poorly.
That was impossible.
But because every word between her and Mahadev sounded cold now.
Professional.
Measured.
As though both were carefully avoiding something dangerous.
Mahadev removed his headphones slowly.
“Again.”
Bhanu looked up instantly.
“What?”
“The second verse,” he said calmly. “The emotion dropped midway.”
Something inside Bhanu snapped immediately.
“Of course it did.”
The musicians exchanged nervous looks.
Mahadev kept his tone even.
“I’m just asking for another take.”
“No,” Bhanu laughed bitterly. “You’re asking for feelings on command again.”
“Bhanu—”
“You know what?” she interrupted sharply. “Maybe Mr. Sinha was right.”
The room fell silent.
Mahadev’s expression changed slightly.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” Bhanu continued. “Maybe women really are expected to compromise constantly.”
“That’s not what I believe.”
“But you still silenced me yesterday.”
“I stopped the argument because it was getting disrespectful.”
“Oh, so now I’m disrespectful too?”
Mahadev exhaled slowly.
“This is exactly what you do.”
Bhanu stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“You turn every disagreement into a war.”
The sentence landed harder than he intended.
Bhanu’s face changed instantly.
Not angry.
Hurt.
Deeply hurt.
The musicians looked away awkwardly.
Mahadev realized it too late.
But Bhanu had already stepped back emotionally.
“Wow,” she whispered softly. “So that’s what you really think of me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“And you’re tired of me.”
The room went silent again.
Because nobody had ever heard Bhanu sound this vulnerable before.
Mahadev softened immediately.
“Bhanu…”
But she continued before he could finish.
“You know what hurts the most?” she asked quietly. “I always thought no matter what happened… you’d understand me.”
“I do understand you.”
“No,” Bhanu said, shaking her head slowly. “Lately it feels like you only tolerate me.”
The words hit him harder than expected.
Mahadev walked toward her.
“That’s not true.”
“Then why do I feel like a burden every time I get emotional?”
“You’re not a burden.”
“But you’re exhausted,” she replied instantly. “I can see it.”
Mahadev fell silent.
And unfortunately—
that silence answered too much.
Bhanu laughed softly then.
The kind of laugh people use right before heartbreak.
“I knew it.”
Mahadev frowned immediately.
“Knew what?”
“That one day,” she whispered, eyes glistening now, “you’d get tired of loving me.”
“Bhanu, stop.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Then say it properly!”
The sudden desperation in her voice echoed painfully through the studio.
Mahadev looked at her silently for a few seconds.
Tired.
Frustrated.
Emotionally cornered.
Then finally—
“I can’t keep proving my love every single day.”
The moment the words left his mouth—
he regretted them.
Bhanu went completely still.
Even the musicians stopped breathing.
Because everyone understood immediately:
this was different.
This wasn’t one of their normal fights anymore.
Bhanu stared at him like he had shattered something inside her.
“You know…” she said softly after a long silence, “…you’re the first person who ever made me feel difficult to love.”
“Bhanu, that’s not what I meant.”
“But you still said it.”
Mahadev ran a tired hand across his face.
“I’m human too. I get exhausted sometimes.”
“And I don’t?” Bhanu shot back, tears finally slipping down despite her trying to stop them. “Do you think it’s easy being me?”
The vulnerability in her voice broke something inside him.
Mahadev stepped toward her instinctively.
But Bhanu stepped back immediately.
That hurt more than the argument itself.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
The word barely reached him.
“I just need…” Bhanu closed her eyes briefly. “I need space.”
Mahadev stared at her.
Every previous fight between them had ended with one of them softening first.
One apology.
One smile.
One touch.
This time neither moved.
Neither bent.
And ego quietly entered the space love once occupied.
Mahadev swallowed slowly.
“If that’s what you want.”
Bhanu looked at him for a long moment.
Perhaps waiting for him to stop her.
Perhaps waiting for herself to stay.
But neither happened.
She picked up her bag silently.
Then walked toward the studio doors.
Mahadev didn’t stop her.
And Bhanu didn’t turn back.
The sound of the closing door echoed through SurSangam Studios long after she had gone.
-------
To be continued.
Chapter 4 (Some Love Stories Return In New Names)
Lucknow, 2026
Lucknow airport was crowded, noisy, and completely chaotic.
Which perfectly matched Rajji Bajpayee’s energy.
“Guys, WAIT FOR ME!”
Rajji hurried through the airport dragging her suitcase dramatically behind her while her college friends walked ahead laughing.
Unlike most people around her, Rajji did not know how to exist quietly.
She spoke loudly.
Laughed loudly.
Complained loudly.
And lived exactly the same way.
“Rajji!” her friend Mehak shouted. “Why did you pack three suitcases for a four-day excursion?!”
Rajji looked offended instantly.
“One is for clothes.”
“Okay…”
“One is for skincare.”
Her friends groaned already.
“And one is emotionally important.”
“That’s not a category!”
Rajji ignored them proudly and adjusted the dupatta of her bright yellow kurti while continuing to walk through the terminal.
At twenty-two, Rajji carried sunlight inside her personality.
Stubborn.
Vibrant.
Dramatic.
Beautiful without trying.
And unfortunately for everyone around her—
capable of arguing with absolutely anybody.
Including airport staff.
“Excuse me,” she complained at the boarding gate, “why is this line moving slower than my emotional healing?”
Her friends collapsed into laughter.
The boarding assistant looked deeply confused.
Meanwhile, somewhere else inside the same airport—
Dheeraj Tiwari regretted agreeing to this trip entirely.
Dheeraj And The Baraati Disaster
“This marriage better be worth it.”
Dheeraj adjusted the strap of his duffel bag while glaring at his friends.
“You people dragged me to Delhi like criminals.”
His best friend Arjun grinned shamelessly.
“You’re my best man. Stop behaving emotionally.”
“I’m not emotional,” Dheeraj muttered.
“You called me six times asking if there’ll be good food.”
“That’s practical planning.”
His friends laughed loudly.
Unlike Rajji’s chaotic brightness, Dheeraj carried quieter energy.
Calm.
Sharp-witted.
Observant.
The kind of person who looked composed even while roasting people effortlessly.
And unfortunately for his friends—
he was usually right during arguments.
Tall, effortlessly attractive, dressed casually in a black shirt and denim jacket, Dheeraj moved through the airport with the relaxed confidence of someone impossible to embarrass.
Which was exactly why his friends enjoyed irritating him.
“Bro,” one of them smirked, “what if you meet your future wife in Delhi?”
Dheeraj looked unimpressed.
“She deserves better luck.”
“Still traumatized from your last relationship?”
“I was never in a relationship.”
“You emotionally flirt with people and disappear.”
“That sounds fake.”
“That sounds exactly like you.”
Before Dheeraj could respond, Arjun suddenly froze dramatically.
“Oh no.”
Dheeraj frowned.
“What happened?”
Arjun pointed ahead slowly.
A girl in a yellow kurti was currently arguing with airport security because her oversized tote bag apparently contained too many snacks.
“This is discrimination,” she declared passionately. “How can chips be a security threat?”
Dheeraj stared for two seconds.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
Rare enough for all his friends to look shocked immediately.
“Ohhh,” Arjun grinned wickedly. “Interesting.”
Dheeraj rolled his eyes.
“She’s fighting over chips.”
“She’s cute.”
“She’s dangerous.”
As if sensing the judgment spiritually, Rajji looked up suddenly.
And directly met Dheeraj’s gaze across the terminal.
For one brief second—
both simply stared.
Then Rajji narrowed her eyes immediately.
Because instead of helping her—
this stranger was very obviously laughing at her suffering.
Excuse me?
Dheeraj, meanwhile, looked entirely unashamed.
That irritated her instantly.
Rajji walked straight toward him.
Her friends panicked immediately.
“Oh no,” Mehak whispered. “She’s going to start a fight.”
Correct.
Rajji stopped directly in front of Dheeraj.
“You think this is funny?”
Dheeraj looked at her calmly.
“A little.”
Rajji looked scandalized.
“My snacks are being confiscated!”
“You’re speaking like they kidnapped your family.”
His friends burst into laughter.
Rajji placed a hand dramatically over her chest.
“Insensitive.”
Dheeraj tilted his head slightly.
“Overdramatic.”
Rajji blinked.
Then pointed accusingly at him.
“You don’t even know me!”
“I already feel exhausted.”
Arjun nearly collapsed laughing.
Rajji stared at Dheeraj in disbelief.
The audacity.
The calmness.
The annoyingly attractive face.
Everything about him irritated her instantly.
Which, unfortunately, made Dheeraj enjoy the conversation more.
“Anyway,” he said casually, “good luck rescuing your chips.”
Rajji gasped.
Then muttered under her breath—
“Absolute idiot.”
Dheeraj heard it.
Smiled faintly.
And just like that—
Delhi became far more interesting for both of them.
The Flight They Were Unfortunate Enough To Share
Rajji was still muttering angrily about “arrogant airport men” while boarding the flight with her friends.
“I’m serious,” she complained. “The confidence he had for NO reason?”
Mehak smirked knowingly.
“You noticed his confidence?”
“I noticed his irritating face.”
“Hm.”
“And his annoying voice.”
“Hm.”
“And his stupid smile.”
Mehak grinned wider.
“This sounds less like hatred and more like observation.”
Rajji looked offended.
“Why would I observe him?!”
At that exact moment—
she entered the aircraft and froze.
Because seated comfortably in her row—
was Dheeraj.
Of course.
Of course destiny had lost its mind today.
Dheeraj looked up from his phone slowly.
Then smiled.
Not a big smile.
Just enough to irritate her blood pressure instantly.
“You again.”
Rajji stared at her boarding pass desperately.
Then at the seat numbers.
Then back at him.
“No.”
Dheeraj glanced toward the empty seat beside him.
“Yes.”
Rajji closed her eyes briefly as though asking the universe for patience.
Behind her, passengers were already waiting impatiently.
“Ma’am,” the air hostess said politely, “could you please move inside?”
Rajji inhaled dramatically before dropping into the seat beside Dheeraj like this was a personal tragedy.
“This is harassment.”
Dheeraj looked impressed.
“You’re taking public transport very emotionally.”
His friends sitting behind them were already enjoying the situation far too much.
Arjun leaned forward immediately.
“Hi bhabhi.”
Rajji choked.
Dheeraj looked disgusted.
“Die quietly.”
Rajji pointed at Arjun instantly.
“Control your friend.”
“I’ve been trying since 2014,” Arjun replied sadly.
The plane finally prepared for takeoff.
Rajji plugged earphones in aggressively while Dheeraj leaned back comfortably beside her.
Peace lasted exactly four minutes.
Then—
“Excuse me.”
Rajji ignored him.
“Excuse me, Yellow Kurti.”
She removed one earbud slowly.
“What?”
“You stole my armrest.”
Rajji looked down.
Her elbow was indeed occupying most of the shared armrest.
“So?”
“So democracy exists.”
Rajji blinked.
“You’re fighting for armrest equality?”
“I believe in justice.”
Rajji stared at him for two seconds before deliberately placing BOTH elbows on the armrest.
Dheeraj looked genuinely impressed now.
“Very mature.”
“Thank you.”
“This is why your chips abandoned you.”
Rajji gasped loudly.
“You leave my chips out of this!”
The elderly aunty seated ahead of them turned around smiling.
“You both are newly married?”
Both of them reacted instantly.
“NO!”
The aunty blinked in surprise.
Dheeraj rubbed his forehead tiredly.
Rajji looked traumatized.
“We just met!”
The aunty nodded knowingly in the most dangerous way possible.
“Love marriages start exactly like this.”
Dheeraj immediately looked out the window to hide laughter.
Rajji looked ready to jump out of the aircraft.
Turbulence And Unexpected Softness
Halfway through the flight, turbulence hit suddenly.
The aircraft shook sharply.
Rajji’s confident expression disappeared instantly.
Dheeraj noticed.
“You okay?”
“I hate turbulence.”
“That explains why you grabbed my arm like it committed a crime.”
Rajji immediately let go.
“I did NOT grab your arm.”
“You’re still holding my sleeve.”
She looked down in horror.
Unfortunately—
she was.
Rajji released him immediately and looked away toward the window awkwardly.
“This plane feels unsafe.”
“It’s normal turbulence.”
“How are you calm?”
Dheeraj shrugged lightly.
“Control issues.”
Rajji frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I panic internally,” he replied casually. “Externally I act superior.”
Rajji accidentally laughed.
Dheeraj glanced at her briefly.
And there it was again.
That unexpected softness in her face when she laughed properly.
Not dramatic.
Not argumentative.
Just warm.
The turbulence settled slowly.
Rajji relaxed back into her seat with a sigh.
“Thanks.”
Dheeraj raised an eyebrow.
“For what?”
“You distracted me.”
“You mean annoyed you professionally.”
“Basically.”
Dheeraj smiled faintly before returning to his phone.
But a few minutes later—
without looking at her—
he quietly pushed the packet of flight snacks toward Rajji.
“Peace offering.”
Rajji stared at the chips packet silently.
Then at him.
“You’re giving me chips after insulting me for them?”
“I believe in emotional healing.”
Rajji laughed again before taking the packet.
And neither noticed the small smile lingering on both their faces afterward.
Welcome To Delhi… Unfortunately
The moment the flight landed, Rajji stood up instantly like a prisoner finally being released.
“Freedom,” she declared dramatically while pulling her bag down.
Dheeraj, still seated comfortably, looked unimpressed.
“You were on a two-hour flight. Not in captivity.”
“You emotionally exhausted me.”
“That sounds like a personal weakness.”
Rajji glared at him.
Unfortunately, the overhead luggage compartment chose that exact moment to betray her.
As Rajji tried pulling her suitcase down, a smaller bag slipped dangerously forward.
Dheeraj reacted immediately, catching it before it could hit her face.
For a second—
their faces ended up unexpectedly close.
Rajji blinked.
Dheeraj looked equally caught off guard.
Then—
“Careful,” he murmured quietly.
And for the first time since meeting him, Rajji forgot to reply instantly.
Which frightened her slightly.
She stepped back immediately.
“I had it handled.”
“You almost died.”
“Dramatic.”
“You started it.”
Before she could respond, passengers behind them began complaining loudly to move forward.
The moment broke instantly.
Probably for the best.
Two Different Worlds
Outside the airport, Delhi buzzed with evening traffic, honking cars, wedding lights, and winter chill.
Rajji’s college group gathered near their tour bus while professors shouted instructions nobody listened to properly.
Meanwhile, Dheeraj and his friends argued beside two overflowing cars filled with wedding outfits and decoration boxes.
“Why are there flowers inside the car?” Dheeraj asked in disbelief.
“Vibes,” Arjun replied confidently.
“That word has destroyed society.”
Rajji overheard that while dragging her suitcase nearby.
Unfortunately—
she laughed.
Actually laughed.
Dheeraj looked toward her immediately.
Rajji realized her mistake at once and straightened her expression.
“I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“Of course.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You laughed exactly after my sentence.”
“Coincidence.”
Dheeraj nodded seriously.
“And I’m very innocent.”
Rajji narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“You enjoy irritating people, don’t you?”
“A little.”
“There’s something psychologically wrong with you.”
“That’s possible.”
Before the argument could continue, Rajji’s professor shouted from the bus—
“Rajji! Hurry up!”
She looked toward the bus, then back at Dheeraj.
For some reason neither moved immediately.
A strange pause settled between them.
Not awkward.
Just unexpected.
Then Arjun suddenly appeared beside Dheeraj with maximum nuisance energy.
“At least ask her name before falling silent romantically.”
Rajji nearly dropped her suitcase.
Dheeraj looked murderous.
“You are the worst human being alive.”
Arjun smiled proudly.
“Thank you.”
Rajji looked between them with disbelief before finally saying—
“I’m leaving.”
Dheeraj nodded lightly.
“Safe travels, Yellow Kurti.”
Rajji looked offended instantly.
“I have a name.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked!”
“You were busy defending chips.”
Rajji opened her mouth—
then stopped.
Because somehow he had a point again.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
After a second, she finally said—
“Rajji.”
Dheeraj’s expression shifted slightly.
Maybe because the name suited her perfectly.
Bright.
Sharp.
Impossible to ignore.
“Dheeraj,” he replied quietly.
For a brief moment, neither looked away.
Then Rajji’s friends began screaming dramatically from the bus windows.
“OHHHHH RAJJIIII!”
Rajji looked horrified.
“I hate these people.”
Dheeraj laughed softly.
And unfortunately—
Rajji realized she liked hearing that sound.
Far too much for someone she had met only a few hours ago.
One City, Two Destinies
That night, Delhi glittered beneath cold winter lights.
On one side of the city—
Rajji sat cross-legged on her hotel bed while her friends aggressively interrogated her.
“So…” Mehak smirked. “Airport boy.”
“There is no airport boy.”
“You argued like an old married couple.”
“He’s arrogant.”
“You smiled six times.”
“I smile naturally!”
“You threatened him emotionally.”
“That is ALSO natural.”
Her friends collapsed laughing.
Meanwhile, across the city—
Dheeraj sat in his hotel room helping Arjun sort wedding outfits.
Unfortunately, his friends had also become unbearable.
“She’s cute,” Arjun declared.
“She’s chaotic,” Dheeraj corrected.
“You like chaotic.”
“I like silence.”
“You literally smiled at your phone ten minutes ago.”
Dheeraj frowned.
“I did not.”
“You saved her contact.”
Silence.
Dheeraj slowly looked up.
Then immediately grabbed his phone.
Because somehow—
during the airport confusion and luggage exchanges—
Rajji had apparently typed her number into his phone “in case your emotional support chips need rescuing again.”
Dheeraj stared at the contact silently.
Saved as:
Yellow Kurti Menace
Against all logic—
he smiled again.
------
To be continued.
Chapter 5 (Delhi Was Supposed To Be Simple)
The Message At 1:17 AM
Rajji was supposed to be sleeping.
Instead, she was lying upside down across her hotel bed staring at her phone dramatically.
“This is unhealthy,” Mehak announced from the next bed.
Rajji looked offended immediately.
“What is?”
“You checking your phone every seven seconds.”
“I’m not checking anything.”
“Then why did you unlock your screen seventeen times?”
Rajji ignored her and continued staring at the ceiling.
This was ridiculous.
She had known Dheeraj for less than a day.
Less than a day.
And yet his stupid calm voice kept replaying in her head.
“Safe travels, Yellow Kurti.”
Arrogant man.
Her phone suddenly buzzed.
Rajji sat up instantly.
Too fast.
Painfully fast.
Mehak gasped dramatically.
“OHHHH!”
Rajji grabbed the pillow nearest to her and threw it directly at her friend before checking the message.
Unknown Number.
Are your chips safe?
Rajji froze.
Then immediately smiled despite herself.
Which was unfortunate.
Because Mehak saw it.
“That smile is criminal evidence.”
Rajji ignored her again and typed furiously:
Are your armrests safe?
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Barely survived.
Rajji bit back another smile.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Another message arrived.
Also, you walk aggressively.
Rajji looked scandalized.
Excuse me???
You drag your suitcase like it owes you money.
Rajji laughed out loud accidentally.
Mehak sat up immediately.
“That’s it. Give me the phone.”
“No!”
“You like him!”
“I barely tolerate him!”
Meanwhile, across the city, Dheeraj leaned back against his hotel balcony railing while smiling faintly at his phone like a complete idiot.
Arjun walked outside, saw his expression, and sighed deeply.
“Oh, this is serious.”
Dheeraj looked up lazily.
“What?”
“You’re smiling voluntarily.”
“I do that sometimes.”
“Not for free.”
Dheeraj ignored him and typed another message.
Why are you awake?
Rajji replied instantly.
Why are YOU awake?
Wedding chaos.
Excuses.
Dheeraj smirked.
You reply very fast for someone pretending not to like me.
Rajji stared at the message for a full ten seconds.
Then aggressively typed:
Confidence is dangerous.
This time Dheeraj laughed properly.
And somewhere between sarcasm, teasing, and midnight messages—
something quietly began.
Rajji Versus Delhi Traffic
The next morning, Delhi greeted Rajji with cold weather, loud traffic, and enough pollution to personally offend her.
“I can taste the air,” she complained dramatically while stepping out of the college bus.
“That’s not normal.”
Her classmates ignored her professionally.
The excursion schedule included sightseeing, museum visits, and architecture studies.
Unfortunately for Rajji—
her attention span lasted approximately twelve minutes.
“This fort is beautiful,” Mehak whispered while taking pictures.
Rajji nodded distractedly before suddenly freezing.
“Oh no.”
“What happened?”
Rajji pointed ahead slowly.
Mehak followed her gaze.
And immediately started laughing.
Because standing near the entrance with a wedding shopping bag in one hand and sunglasses on—
was Dheeraj.
Of course.
Of COURSE.
“What are the chances?” Mehak wheezed.
“Terrible,” Rajji muttered.
At the exact same moment, Dheeraj looked up.
Saw her.
Paused.
Then slowly removed his sunglasses with maximum unnecessary dramatic effect.
Rajji looked personally attacked.
Dheeraj walked toward her calmly.
“You’re following me now?”
Rajji gasped.
“YOU’RE following ME!”
“I was here first.”
“This is a public monument!”
“So emotionally defensive already?”
Rajji folded her arms instantly.
“You enjoy irritating me too much.”
“A little.”
Mehak whispered dramatically beside her—
“The chemistry is disgusting.”
Rajji elbowed her aggressively.
Meanwhile Dheeraj noticed Rajji’s outfit today—
a white kurti with silver earrings and loose hair moving softly in the winter breeze.
And unfortunately—
she looked beautiful.
Annoyingly beautiful.
Rajji caught him staring.
“What?”
Dheeraj blinked once before replying smoothly—
“Nothing.”
Liar.
The Auto Ride Disaster
An hour later, disaster struck.
Rajji’s college group got separated in the crowded market area during sightseeing.
Which would have been manageable—
if her phone battery hadn’t died dramatically at the exact same moment.
“This feels unsafe,” Rajji muttered while looking around the unfamiliar Delhi streets.
Then suddenly—
“Yellow Kurti!”
Rajji turned instantly.
Dheeraj stood a few feet away near a roadside stall, holding coffee casually while looking deeply unsurprised by the situation.
Rajji exhaled in relief before immediately hiding it.
“What are YOU doing here?”
“Saving civilization.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“And yet you look happy to see me.”
Rajji opened her mouth to deny it—
then stopped.
Because unfortunately…
he was right again.
“I got separated from my group,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Shocking. You seem extremely easy to manage.”
Rajji glared.
“My phone died.”
Dheeraj nodded thoughtfully.
“So basically you’re helpless.”
“I’m NEVER helpless.”
“Sure.”
A cold gust of wind passed through the street.
Rajji rubbed her hands together instinctively.
Dheeraj noticed immediately.
Without saying anything, he handed her his coffee cup.
Rajji blinked.
“What?”
“Take it.”
“You bought this.”
“I can buy another.”
For a second she simply looked at him quietly.
Then accepted the cup softly.
“Thanks.”
Dheeraj shrugged lightly like it was nothing.
But something about the moment felt strangely gentle.
Unexpectedly comfortable.
An auto-rickshaw stopped nearby.
Dheeraj opened the door casually.
“Come on.”
Rajji frowned.
“Where?”
“To find your group before Delhi adopts you permanently.”
Rajji climbed into the auto beside him reluctantly.
The driver looked at them through the mirror.
“Bhaiya-bhabhi kahaan jaana hai?”
Rajji closed her eyes instantly.
Dheeraj looked exhausted already.
And the auto ride had only just begun.
Bhaiya-Bhabhi And Other Horrors
“We are NOT together,” Rajji said immediately.
The auto driver nodded in the exact way people nod when they absolutely do not believe you.
“Ji bhabhi.”
Rajji looked personally betrayed.
Dheeraj turned toward the window instantly to hide his laughter.
Which only made her angrier.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
“You’re enjoying my suffering.”
“You create very entertaining suffering.”
Rajji folded her arms dramatically and leaned away from him.
Unfortunately, Delhi traffic had other plans.
The auto suddenly jerked sharply to one side.
Rajji lost balance immediately—
and grabbed Dheeraj’s arm instinctively.
For a second, both froze.
The noisy traffic around them blurred slightly.
Rajji slowly realized how close they suddenly were.
Dheeraj looked down briefly at her hand still clutching his sleeve.
Then back at her.
Neither spoke.
Then the driver cheerfully announced—
“Dekh liya? Couple balance achha hai aap dono ka.”
Rajji immediately let go like the seat had electrocuted her.
“Oh my God.”
Dheeraj rubbed a hand over his face tiredly.
“Bhaiya,” he said calmly, “please drive.”
The driver grinned knowingly.
“Love marriage?”
Rajji inhaled deeply.
“Stop asking questions.”
Meanwhile, Dheeraj looked strangely calm again.
Which irritated her.
“How are you not embarrassed?”
“I accepted my fate twenty minutes ago.”
Rajji stared at him.
“You adapt to problems very fast.”
“I met you yesterday. Survival instincts developed naturally.”
Rajji gasped.
Then accidentally laughed.
Again.
Dheeraj noticed instantly.
And there it was—
that warm, genuine smile that transformed her entire face.
The kind that appeared unexpectedly between arguments.
The kind he was beginning to like far too much.
Dangerous development.
The Street Market
After finally locating Rajji’s college group near Chandni Chowk, logic suggested they should separate peacefully.
Unfortunately, neither left.
“Your group is safe now,” Dheeraj pointed out casually.
“Yes.”
“And my friends are shopping nearby.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
Neither moved.
Then—
“You want chai?” Dheeraj asked.
Rajji blinked.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at wedding functions?”
“I escaped.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You abandon responsibilities professionally.”
“I learned from you.”
Rajji looked offended.
Then five minutes later—
they were walking side-by-side through the crowded street market holding steaming cups of chai.
Delhi buzzed around them noisily.
Street vendors shouted prices.
Music blasted from nearby shops.
The winter air smelled like spices, smoke, and fresh jalebis.
Rajji looked around excitedly.
“This place is insane.”
“You’ve never been here before?”
“No.”
“You look emotionally overwhelmed.”
“I AM emotionally overwhelmed.”
Dheeraj smiled faintly.
And for the first time since meeting her—
they walked without arguing for almost three entire minutes.
A personal achievement.
Rajji suddenly stopped near a jewelry stall.
“Oh wow.”
Dheeraj looked toward the display.
Rows of oxidized jhumkas glittered beneath yellow lights.
Rajji immediately picked up a pair excitedly.
“These are beautiful.”
The shopkeeper grinned.
“For madam? Very pretty choice.”
Rajji looked at the mirror while trying them on.
Dheeraj watched quietly beside her.
The earrings suited her perfectly.
But more than that—
she looked happy.
The uncomplicated kind of happy people rarely show strangers.
“Nice,” he said simply.
Rajji looked toward him through the mirror.
“You actually approved something?”
“Don’t get emotional.”
“Too late.”
The shopkeeper smiled knowingly between them.
Then casually asked—
“Sir, gift pack kar doon?”
Rajji nearly dropped the earrings.
Dheeraj looked exhausted spiritually.
“We’re not—”
“Pack it,” Dheeraj interrupted calmly.
Rajji blinked.
“What?”
“You like them.”
“I can buy my own earrings!”
“I know.”
“Then why are YOU buying them?”
Dheeraj handed money to the shopkeeper casually.
“Because you’ve been fighting with me for two days. Consider this compensation.”
Rajji stared at him silently.
The teasing tone was still there.
But beneath it—
something softer lingered.
Something unexpectedly thoughtful.
The shopkeeper handed over the packet happily.
“Very good husband material, sir.”
Rajji looked ready to evaporate from existence.
Dheeraj accepted the packet calmly before handing it to her.
“Try not to start another argument for at least ten minutes.”
Rajji took the packet slowly.
Then muttered under her breath—
“You’re very confusing.”
Dheeraj looked at her quietly for a second before replying softly—
“You’re not exactly simple either.”
The Dupatta Incident
By evening, Delhi’s winter cold had become sharper.
The crowded market streets glowed beneath hanging lights while traffic noise echoed endlessly around them.
Rajji and Dheeraj were still somehow together.
Which neither had properly questioned yet.
“You realize,” Rajji said while walking beside him, “normal people usually go home after helping someone.”
“I tried,” Dheeraj replied calmly. “But you kept getting distracted every six seconds.”
“That happened ONCE.”
“You almost adopted a street puppy.”
“He was emotional!”
“The puppy was sleeping.”
Rajji looked offended.
“You lack sensitivity.”
“And you have too much of it.”
A sudden gust of wind swept through the market street.
Rajji’s dupatta slipped loose instantly, flying straight toward a nearby tea stall flame.
Before she could react—
Dheeraj caught the fabric quickly, pulling it safely back toward him.
Everything happened too fast.
One second chaos.
The next—
Rajji stood unexpectedly close to him again.
Her dupatta gathered carefully in Dheeraj’s hands.
The noisy market around them suddenly felt strangely distant.
Rajji looked up slowly.
Dheeraj’s expression had changed.
No teasing.
No sarcasm.
Just quiet concern.
“You should be more careful,” he said softly.
Rajji’s heartbeat stumbled annoyingly.
“I… yeah.”
For a moment neither moved.
Then a passing biker honked loudly nearby, breaking the strange stillness instantly.
Dheeraj stepped back first.
Rajji adjusted her dupatta awkwardly.
And suddenly both became very interested in literally anything except eye contact.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
The Wedding Invitation Nobody Expected
Dheeraj cleared his throat lightly while continuing to walk beside her.
“So…”
Rajji looked suspicious already.
“What now?”
“There’s a sangeet tonight.”
Rajji blinked.
“Okay?”
“My friend’s wedding.”
“Congratulations to him?”
Dheeraj sighed patiently.
“I’m inviting you.”
Rajji stopped walking completely.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why would I attend a stranger’s wedding function?”
“Free food.”
“That’s emotionally persuasive.”
“And good music.”
Rajji narrowed her eyes.
“This feels suspicious.”
Dheeraj looked thoughtful.
“You already survived an airport, flight turbulence, Delhi traffic, and Chandni Chowk with me.”
“That does sound traumatic.”
“So one wedding function shouldn’t scare you.”
Rajji tried to refuse immediately.
She really did.
But unfortunately—
the idea sounded fun.
And even more unfortunately—
spending more time with Dheeraj suddenly didn’t sound like a terrible idea anymore.
Which was concerning for her mental stability.
“What if your friends are weird?” she asked finally.
“They are extremely weird.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“They already think we’re dating.”
Rajji looked scandalized.
“WHAT?”
Dheeraj looked entirely unbothered.
“Arjun started planning imaginary wedding hashtags this morning.”
Rajji stared at him in horror.
“Your friend needs medical help.”
“Probably.”
Rajji hesitated for another few seconds.
Then—
“Fine.”
Dheeraj raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Fine?”
“I’ll come.”
“You agreed surprisingly fast.”
Rajji pointed at him accusingly.
“Don’t make this a thing.”
“Too late.”
Rajji Meets The Boys
The moment Dheeraj and Rajji entered the wedding hotel lobby together—
chaos began.
Arjun spotted them first.
Then screamed loud enough to alert multiple generations.
“BHAI HAS ARRIVED!”
Every single one of Dheeraj’s friends turned simultaneously.
Then collectively lost their minds.
Rajji immediately regretted every life decision leading to this moment.
“Oh no,” Dheeraj muttered.
Arjun ran toward them dramatically.
“You actually brought her!”
“I’m standing right here,” Rajji informed him.
“Sorry,” Arjun grinned. “I’m emotionally shocked.”
Another friend whispered loudly—
“She’s prettier than his standards deserve.”
Dheeraj looked tired already.
Rajji, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh.
Too late.
Dheeraj noticed immediately.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Traitorous woman.
Arjun folded his hands dramatically toward Rajji.
“Thank you for tolerating him. Society appreciates your sacrifice.”
Dheeraj looked at his friends coldly.
“One day I’ll disappear during your weddings.”
“Worth it.”
Rajji laughed properly now.
And for a second—
Dheeraj forgot to respond.
Because there it was again.
That smile.
Warm.
Bright.
Unfiltered.
The kind that made the rest of the room blur slightly around her.
Unfortunately, Arjun noticed that too.
His expression shifted instantly into dangerous amusement.
“Ohhhhh,” he whispered dramatically.
Dheeraj immediately looked away.
Too late.
Very, very too late.
------
To be continued.
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