Chapter 2 – Return of the Heartbreaker

The night before Riddan returned, Adriya was talking to Adrishi while rocking her 3-year-old daughter to sleep.

“Adrishi, he’s coming back.”

“Who?” Adrishi pretended not to know.

“Riddan! Your childhood crush.”

“Oh, him? Come on, sis. Don’t be like that. I was immature back then. Now I know my limits.”

“Are you sure? Don’t come crying to me later like ten years ago.”

The Present Time

Riddan was in front of her now — real, smiling, alive.

And everyone was welcoming him like a hero returning from war.

Everyone except Adrishi.

The day Riddan returned, Dhaka itself seemed louder.

Firecrackers somewhere in the neighborhood, aunties gossiping, uncles congratulating, children running to see “the handsome Riddan bhaiya who came from London.”

The whole lane buzzed like Eid morning.

Everyone was celebrating.

Everyone — except Adrishi.

She stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the chaos.

Riddan was outside, talking to her father, laughing that same laugh she once memorized in her diary.

He looked… annoyingly perfect.

Tall, confident, sharp suit hugging his shoulders like it was tailored by fate itself.

Her mother peeked from the kitchen door.

“Adrishi, go greet him. Don’t just stand there like a statue.”

“I’m busy, Mummy.”

“With what? Staring?”

Adrishi rolled her eyes.

“Please, Mummy. He’s not some movie hero.”

From outside, her father called,

“Riddan’s here for dinner! Everyone, come out!”

Adrishi muttered under her breath,

“Of course he is.”

The Return Dinner

By evening, the house was filled with laughter.

Riddan sat comfortably on the sofa like he owned the place. Her grandparents, her sister Adriya, and her brother Armaan surrounded him.

“Oh, look at you!” her grandmother gushed. “You’ve become so handsome! London suits you.”

Riddan smiled.

“Dhaka’s omelets suit me better, Granny.”

Adrishi froze mid-step, holding a tray of tea.

Did he just—

Her mother smirked knowingly.

“Adrishi made that tea.”

Riddan leaned back, eyes twinkling.

“Ah, then it’s the best tea in Bangladesh already. Or… did it get burnt too?”

“Don’t be like that. Our Adrishi’s a good cook now, Riddan,” her father said, laughing.

“Uncle, I’ve been eating your daughter’s cooking since I was fifteen. I still don’t know how I’m alive.”

The room burst into laughter — everyone except one person.

Adrishi placed the tray down with a soft thud and glared at him.

“Careful. The tea’s hot.”

Riddan grinned, completely unbothered.

“Good. I like things that burn a little.”

Her grandmother coughed to hide her giggle.

“Arre, he even talks like a foreigner now!”

Adrishi shot him a glare that could melt steel.

Riddan just winked.

Then came the casual chatter.

“Adriya, how’s your husband?”

“Fine,” Adriya replied.

“And this must be your daughter? She looks exactly like you! I wish she’d been born earlier — I’d have married her.”

Everyone laughed.

Armaan jumped in and teased, pointing at Adrishi,

“There’s another one who looks like Adriya. You can take her.”

“Is that so? Then I’m ready!” Riddan said — jokingly, yet not quite joking — and everyone laughed again.

Except Adrishi, who rolled her eyes and escaped to the kitchen.

Kitchen War

Later that night, as she tried to stay hidden in the kitchen, she heard familiar footsteps.

“Need help, little chef?”

Her head snapped around.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

Riddan leaned against the counter — sleeves rolled up, tie loose, that smug grin intact.

“What should I call you then? Mrs. Attitude?”

“You can call me Miss Don’t-Talk-To-Me.”

“Hmm. How about Mrs. Riddan?”

Adrishi froze, spatula midair.

“Excuse me?”

He laughed.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re provoking.”

“Just catching up. You ignored me for ten years — let me have five minutes.”

She sighed, muttering,

“Ten years weren’t enough. Find yourself a girlfriend.”

“Don’t have one.”

That caught her off guard.

“Why— I mean… what about your friends?”

He smiled softly.

“Oh, but I missed you.”

Her heart skipped. For a split second, she saw the boy she used to love — not the man teasing her now.

“Missed me? You didn’t even text.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. You blocked me.”

Her hand froze.

“…Oh.”

He grinned.

“Told you.”

She threw the spatula into the sink.

“Ugh, you’re impossible!”

“And you’re still cute when you’re angry,” he whispered before walking away.

The Neighborhood Buzz

By the next morning, news spread faster than Wi-Fi.

“Riddan’s back! And Adrishi’s still single!”

“Both families are so close!”

“They’ll marry soon, mark my words!”

Adrishi wanted to disappear.

When she stepped out to go to college, the local aunties were waiting like paparazzi.

“Dear Adrishi, Riddan’s become so handsome, na?”

“You two looked so good together last night!”

She forced a smile.

“Yes, Aunty. So good I nearly choked on my tea. But please — if Brother Riddan wants to get married, you have so many nieces. Set him up with one of them!”

The aunties gasped, then ran off to make calls, searching for eligible girls.

Adrishi sighed deeply.

And there he was — leaning against his black car by the gate, having heard every word.

“Done setting me up?” he asked, amused.

“Yes, totally,” she said dryly.

“Need a ride?” Riddan offered.

“No.”

“College is far.”

“So is Mars, but I’d still prefer walking there.”

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “Rejected before breakfast.”

“Get used to it.”

“I already am — to you.”

She turned away, flustered.

“Hey, little chef,” he called after her,

“Don’t burn your heart while pretending you don’t have one.”

Her cheeks flushed red as he laughed behind her.

Family Dinner Disaster

That night, both families gathered again — “just a casual dinner,” though everyone knew what it really was.

“Adrishi, serve Riddan some salad,” her mother said.

She handed him the bowl stiffly.

“Here. Eat healthy. Maybe it’ll clean your flirt off.”

“If it doesn’t, your anger might,” Riddan quipped.

Her brother Armaan grinned.

“So, Riddan, found anyone in London?”

Riddan looked straight at Adrishi.

“I did. But not in London. Here. She just ignored all my texts.”

The table went silent, then everyone burst out laughing.

Adriya leaned toward her sister.

“He’s clearly in love with you.”

“Shut up, Sis,” Adrishi hissed.

“Riddan and Adrishi, sitting in a tree—” Armaan started singing.

“I’ll poison your food, Bro!”

Riddan laughed so hard he nearly spilled his juice.

The rest of the dinner was filled with teasing and chatter — pure chaos, pure warmth.

Balcony Banter

Later that night, Adrishi stepped out onto the balcony.

The drizzle had started again.

And of course, he was there — on the opposite balcony.

Their houses were still side by side, just like old times.

“Still afraid of thunder?” he called.

“I’m not twelve, Riddan.”

“Then stop pouting like you are.”

“I’m not pouting!”

“You are.”

“I am NOT!”

He laughed softly.

“God, I missed this.”

“You missed annoying me?”

“No. I missed you.”

Silence fell, only the sound of rain between them.

Adrishi turned away.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re adorable when you deny it.”

“Goodnight, Riddan Brother.”

“Goodnight, little chef.”

The Chaos Returns

That night, Adrishi lay in bed, heart racing.

He was back — with his charm, his jokes, that stupid smile that made her knees weak.

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop her lips from curving.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, Riddan sat by his window, smirking.

“She still hates me,” he murmured.

Then smiled wider.

“Perfect. That means she still cares.”

And as thunder rolled over the city, two hearts — once separated by oceans — began to fall back into rhythm.

Not through grand gestures.

Not through dramatic confessions.

But through laughter, teasing…

and an omelet waiting in the kitchen the next morning.

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