FL side intro

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ML side intro

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#Adhira

Two hearts scarred by tragedy, two lives intertwined by destiny. Her light softens his darkness. His strength shields her storm. But shadows of the past linger — secrets, guilt, and unspoken truths that could either destroy them… Or make their love the most powerful force they’ve ever known.

“They came together to heal… but neither expected to find themselves in the other.”

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The smell of hot parathas and steaming chai filled the dining room as Devika set the table, her hands moving fast but her heart heavy like a stone.

His guess sounded confident, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, hiding behind his playful act. Aarav always tried to make his family laugh, but he carried his own sadness.

It was only 8:00 a.m.

Adhikansh, was always the first at this table, his plate ready by 7:30 a.m. sharp. Adi was a man of time, never late, his insomnia kept him up all night, waking him before the sun, but he always came to breakfast, sitting right there.

But today, where was he?

They ate quietly, the clink of spoons and plates loud in the silence. Rajveer left for his office, and Aarav headed to his hospital, waving with a silly grin that didn’t reach his eyes. But Devika heart stayed heavy, like a monsoon cloud ready to burst.

At 10 a.m.

After completing her chores, she climbed the stairs to Adi’s room, her daily habit. Sometimes, when he’s upset, he breaks things—glass, books, anything—leaving his room a mess. She braced herself, pushing the door open.

In her room

The pain is too big to hold. The pain of a mother. She cried for half an hour, then washed her face, forcing a smile.

"She called Rajveer and Aarav. Her voice was steady now. They didn’t ask why—they knew it was important."

At 2:00 p.m.

Devika was back in the dining room, setting the table again, this time with a lightness in her heart. The smell of Adi’s favorite butter chicken and soft naan filled the air, making the house feel warm

Rajveer and Aarav walked in, their faces tired but curious

Devika went to the kitchen to grab the last dishes, humming an old Bollywood song"

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Adhikansh P.O.V

I opened my eyes slowly, sitting up on my bed, my fingers running through my messy hair. For the first time in forever, I felt… relaxed, like a dark cloud had lifted. My body was light, my mind quiet—something I hadn’t felt in years.

I couldn’t remember sleeping this well,

I dragged myself to the washroom, splashed cold water on my face, the chill waking me up. I headed downstairs, expecting breakfast, my steps heavy but eager. As I stepped down the stairs, Dad and Aarav looked at me like I was a ghost, their eyes wide. I ignored them, sliding into my usual seat at the dining table.

Ma came from the kitchen, her smile brighter than the diya she lights every evening, setting down a steaming bowl of my favorite butter chicken. Was today special? Had I forgotten something? We ate quietly, the clink of plates loud in the silence. Dad’s eyes were heavy, watching me like he saw something strange. Aarav’s grin was shaky, like he might cry but was fighting it, his usual jokes stuck in his throat. Ma kept serving me extra naan, her happiness warming the room like sunlight. I didn’t ask questions, just savored the spicy chicken, my hunger taking over.

After lunch, my head started throbbing, a dull ache creeping in.

I glanced at the clock—2:30 p.m. My heart stopped. How? I never slept this late. My insomnia made sure I was up early, always on time, first at the table. How could I sleep so long? What happened to me? My mind raced, trying to piece it together.

Maybe she was right. I did take sleeping pills sometimes, though they barely worked. A higher dose could explain it… right?

Devika P.O.V

Adi asked for a strong coffee, rubbing his temple, and I wasn’t surprised. Sleeping till 2 p.m. would give anyone a headache, especially my Adi, who barely got any rest.

I went to the kitchen, brewing his coffee, the smell of it mixing with the leftover spices in the air. As I stirred, I overheard Aarav teasing Adi about the time.

He said, and I heard Adi’s shock, his voice sharp with confusion. My poor boy sounded lost, worried, and I couldn’t let him spiral. His insomnia was bad enough—those sleepless nights broke my heart. I had to calm him.

I walked back to the dining table, coffee mug in hand, and saw Adi staring at the clock, his eyes wide.

I said, keeping my voice steady as I handed him the mug

I lied, my smile hiding the truth. Adi took sleeping pills, yes, but they never worked well, and sometimes he’d take too many, which scared me. So, months ago, I swapped them with calcium tablets, safe and useless for sleep. Only I knew.

Seeing him eat my butter chicken with real appetite, his face softer than usual, filled me with hope. Maybe my Adi was finally healing, finding some peace. Or was something else behind this? I didn’t know, but seeing him like this—so calm, so alive—felt like a gift. I sat down, watching him sip his coffee, my heart whispering prayers. I wanted my happy boy back, the one who used to laugh without shadows in his eyes. Whatever caused this sleep, I hoped it was a sign of better days.

But all my hopes shattered the next morning. Adi was at the breakfast table early, his eyes tired, dark circles deep like always. He scrolled his phone, barely touching the parathas I’d made. My heart sank. I thought maybe he woke early today for work, that tomorrow he’d sleep peacefully again. I was wrong. For days, I watched him closely, hoping that strange, beautiful sleep would return. But it didn’t. Every morning, he was there, exhausted, his face heavy with shadows, like that one day of rest never happened.

I stood in the kitchen, stirring chai, the clink of the spoon loud in my ears. What happened that day? Why did he sleep so long, so calmly, only to go back to sleepless nights? My mind raced, replaying that moment I found him in bed, his face soft like my little boy from eighteen years ago. Was it a fluke? Or something more? I needed to know.

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