CHAPTER 1

Siratpreet “Sirat” Kaur’s life was simple, quiet, and predictable. She lived in Mohali with her middle-class Punjabi family, attending an online school and helping her mother with household chores. Friends? She didn’t have many, not really. Her world was small, safe, and orderly—but sometimes, she felt a gentle ache, a quiet longing for something more, something she couldn’t quite name.

On her eighteenth birthday, her parents gifted her a phone. At first, it felt overwhelming—a portal into a world she had never touched. Messages, apps, reels… it was dazzling, confusing, and exciting all at once. She spent hours exploring, hesitant yet fascinated by this new window to the world.

One evening, while scrolling aimlessly, a video made her pause.

A young man, smiling softly at the camera, his eyes kind yet mysterious, his laughter warm and effortless. Her heart skipped. She didn’t understand why, but something about him felt… different. His name appeared at the corner of the screen:

Loveneet Singh.

Sirat stared, unable to look away. Her mind buzzed with curiosity, admiration, and a strange flutter of hope she had never felt before. She found herself scrolling through more of his posts, noting little details—the way he tilted his head when he smiled, the care in his voice, the confidence in the way he moved.

For the first time in a long while, Sirat felt her world expand beyond her quiet home. She laughed softly to herself, feeling almost guilty for how drawn she was to someone she had never met, someone who didn’t even know she existed. And yet… she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

That night, before going to sleep, she folded her hands and whispered a small, childish prayer, her eyes glistening in the moonlight filtering through her window:

"God ji, please… let me meet him someday. Or… let me at least know him. I promise I’ll be a good girl. I just… I just want to see him, maybe talk to him, maybe… be near him."

Little did Sirat know, fate had already started weaving invisible threads between their lives—threads that would pull them together in ways she could never imagine.

Day after day, she returned to her phone to check his updates. Every picture, every little reel, became a small treasure to her. Sometimes she caught herself smiling for no reason at all, a quiet happiness blooming in her chest that no one else could see. Her heart felt alive in a way it never had before—soft, tender, and entirely hers.

At night, before sleeping, she would fold her hands and whisper her little prayer:

"God ji, please… let me meet him someday. Or… let me at least know him. I promise I’ll be a good girl. I just… I just want to see him, maybe talk to him, maybe… be near him."

And each morning, she woke up thinking of him, replaying his smile in her mind, imagining what it would feel like to hear his voice in real life. She carried him quietly in her thoughts everywhere she went—while helping her mother, doing her schoolwork, or even just sipping chai by the window. He became her secret companion, her little world of joy hidden in plain sight.

Months passed, and Sirat’s crush grew into something deeper, something she barely understood. She didn’t dare call it love, not aloud—love felt too big, too dangerous, too impossible for someone who didn’t even know she existed. But still, she imagined small moments: walking past him on the streets of Mohali, sharing a smile, exchanging words, maybe even laughing together. Each dream was a heartbeat she cherished.

Even when the world seemed dull or mundane, thinking about him made her feel lighter, braver, and happier. She found herself talking to him silently every day, asking him about his dreams, imagining his replies, cheering him on in her mind. Sometimes, she would catch herself laughing at a reel he posted, and her heart would swell with a secret, tender warmth.

Her one-sided love was quiet but intense, a soft ache mixed with delight. It was her first taste of longing, her first secret joy, and her first dream of what love might feel like. And every night, she would repeat the same prayer, eyes glistening in the moonlight:

"God ji… please, just once, let me meet him. Let me know him. Let me… be near him."

Little did Sirat know, fate had already begun weaving invisible threads between their lives—threads that would pull them together in ways she could never imagine, turning her quiet, one-sided dream into something real, something magical.

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