Hopelessly In Love
Draft
🕯️ Nighttime. Light drizzle. Cars pass. The street glows under wet streetlamps.
She walks quietly. Umbrella in hand.
Long hair fluttering.
City noise fading behind her steps.
Her name is Aamaya.
Just like tonight—night rain.
On her way home from college.
Quiet. Gentle. A little sad.
Lost in the kind of silence only rain brings.
🎵 Soft song plays from a cozy-looking café window.
She pauses. Doesn't walk home right away.
Is she waiting? Or just... existing there?
[Aamaya] (startled)
"…Daksha?"
Sneha’s brother. Her crush.
A musician.
The boy her heart kept quietly for years.
He smiles. Inside, a girl’s voice calls him back.
She disappears upstairs. To Sneha. To normalcy.
[Aamaya]
“The professor gave us a new assignment.”
Sneha’s Mom]
“Stay for tea, dear.
Aamaya]
“Thank you, Aunty, but I have to go.
Bhaiya will be annoyed if I’m late again."
🏠 Her two-story house. Mogra by the gate. The scent she and her brother planted together.
Narration]
She enters—
Stops.
There’s a boy on their sofa.
Long legs hanging over the edge.
Slightly mEssy hair. Sharp jaw.
Completely relaxed.
Aamaya] (blinks)
"…Who’s this?"
[Aamaya] (walks into the kitchen)
“Bhaiya?”
Neel Saraswat] (professor, older brother)
“He’s my student.”
[Aamaya]
"…Your student’s kind of casual."
[Narration]
No answer.
Just dinner prep sounds.
---
🍽️
🕯️ Evening. Rain thrums against the windows. The house smells of cumin, steamed rice, and something new.
[Narration]
Aamaya stepped downstairs, one hand sliding along the railing.
She had tied her hair up loosely. Changed into her house clothes. She was expecting comfort, familiarity.
What she didn’t expect—
Was him.
[Narration]
Agastya Mishra was sitting at her seat.
Yes, hers.
The chair at the corner, always next to the window, always slightly wobbly.
The one she used since high school, the one her brother called “Aamaya’s throne.”
And now—this boy.
This stranger
Long legs stretched out.
T-shirt creased in just the right way.
One arm draped along the chairback like he owned gravity.
He didn’t try to be handsome.
He just was
Dark hair—still slightly damp from the rain—fell near his temple in soft waves.
His jawline could cut through marble.
A thin silver ring sat on his right hand, tapping softly on the table, beatless, calm.
He looked too perfect for this house.
Like someone from a sleek startup ad accidentally wandered into a home-cooked sitcom.
[Narration]
He returned to his plate like her words meant nothing.
[Narration]
She turned to her brother in betrayal.
[Aamaya]
“Seriously, Bhaiya?”
[Neel] (still serving dal)
“Hm?”
Aamaya]
“He’s sitting in my seat.”
[Aamaya]
“That’s my seat.”
[Neel] (shrugs)
“Then sit next to him.”
[Narration]
Her brain short-circuited.
So now she had to sit beside the handsome storm in human form?
Fantastic.
🥒 She stepped toward the table. Reached for the cutlery. Her fingers were still warm with irritation.
[Narration]
And then—
Her spoon slipped.
Straight to the ground. Possibly… maybe… definitely… hit Agastya’s shoe.
They both leaned down at once.
Narration]
Their heads nearly collided.
Almost.
He picked it up first. Held it loosely between two fingers. Looked at her.
No smirk. No eyebrow raise.
Those eyes again. Quiet. Observing.
[Aamaya] (mumbling)
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
[Agastya] (interrupting, still calm)
“Oh.”
[Narration]
He placed the spoon back.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t mock.
Didn’t act like she was a storm in front of him.
Which only made her feel more… seen.
And somewhere behind her, Bhaiya was trying very hard not to laugh into his roti.
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