•°•°IRA's P.O.V°•°•
"I'm not crying," Ruhi said, clutching her tote bag while dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.
"You're literally sobbing," Ira laughed, pulling her suitcase along as they entered the Heathrow terminal.
"I'm emotional! This is huge, Ira. Delhi, internships, the start of a new life!"
Ira smiled, the kind that doesn't fully reach the eyes. "Yeah... new life."
She couldn't deny the flutter in her chest. Not fear, not quite excitement either-just a tightness she couldn't name.
Maybe it was the weight of a new city, or maybe... it was the unknown waiting for her there.
A home she never remembered, yet her heart ached like it already knew something she didn't.
Both girls were dressed in comfy airport fits-oversized sweatshirts and messy buns.
Ruhi talked a mile a minute, about the company, the possible cute bosses, about clothes and Delhi food and everything in between.
Ira, though quieter, responded with equal energy, keeping the atmosphere light despite the heaviness in her chest.
The plane took off with a gentle rumble, and through the small window, the clouds swallowed London whole.
Ira didn't look back.
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Arrival--- Indira Gandhi International Airport, Delhi.
The sharp warmth hit them the moment they stepped out of the terminal.
Even in the early evening, Delhi air had that sun-drenched heaviness.
The noise-car horns, rickshaw bells, drivers yelling-was an orchestra of chaos that somehow felt like a welcome.
Ruhi grinned, sunglasses on. "We're gonna melt like cheese."
Ira laughed. "We'll survive. Probably."
They dragged their bags out and waved down a cab. The driver-a middle-aged man with a red gamcha around his neck.
loaded their suitcases in the trunk with a lazy grin.
"Madam, first time in Dilli?"
"Not exactly," Ira said without thinking, then paused. "I mean... sort of."
"Welcome to Dilli, madam! The city of dreams-and traffic!"
Ruhi giggled. "At least he's honest."
The cab rattled its way through Delhi's arteries. The girls watched the city blur past---flower stalls, people in vibrant kurtas, street vendors, and chaiwalas calling out like clockwork.
A life pulsing louder than anything they'd felt in London.
"Smell that?" Ruhi asked suddenly.
"That's food. Real food. That's the smell of momos and spicy street heaven."
"You sure that's not just pollution?" Ira teased.
"Babes, Now stop being a killjoy and enjoy the culture shock."
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Settling In --- Their Apartment in South Delhi
Their temporary apartment was modest, located in a bustling corner of South Delhi. The moment they stepped inside.......
Ruhi threw herself on the bed with a sigh of joy. "Freedom. Glorious Indian freedom."
Ira sat at the window, watching the dusky orange sky. Delhi felt alive. Heavy. Almost too familiar.
They unpacked, changed into kurtis and jeans, and decided to take a walk. Delhi's evening wrapped around them like silk woven with heat, smell, and noise.
"A Bite of Delhi"~~
They stopped at a tiny momo stall tucked between a paan shop and a pharmacy. The guy behind it was a young man in a hoodie, his hands working expertly.
"One plate steamed, one fried," Ruhi said. "No compromise."
He grinned. "Dilli ke momos, madam are India's best momos."
(No offense to anyone, it's just bhaiya think that Delhi or specifically his momos are India's best momos.)
They stood there eating, the spicy chutney making Ira's eyes water.
"This is so good," she said, mouth full.
Ruhi nodded. "This city is full of chaos and charm and crazy. I think we're gonna fit right in."
Ira looked around-the hawkers, the tangle of wires above, the colors, the life.
"I think you're right," she whispered.
As they walked through the lanes, they passed bookstores, a man selling antique watches, another offering calligraphy bookmarks.
Everything felt so alive.
But inside Ira, something stirred.
A restlessness.
'As if this city carried a pulse-and she'd matched its beat before.'
That night, as they lay under the ceiling fan, Ruhi mumbled, "Do you ever feel like a place is trying to talk to you?"
Ira turned on her side. "No... but I feel like someone I never met is waiting here."
Ruhi blinked at her. "That's... cryptic. You good?"
Ira gave a faint smile. "I think I will be."
NEXT DAY.....
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•°•°ISHAAN°•°•
Early Morning, Malhotra Penthouse - New Delhi
5:03 a.m.
The rest of the city was asleep, but Ishaan Malhotra was already awake.
Not because he wanted to be.
Because sleep had abandoned him long ago.
He sat alone in the dim-lit living room of his penthouse, dressed in grey joggers and a black tank, his bare feet planted firmly on the cold marble floor.
His eyes were bloodshot, jaw clenched, chest heaving slowly from the fourth consecutive night of fragmented sleep.
Insomnia had become his closest companion since the night Niyati vanished from his life.
(Insomnia is a common sleep disorder. With insomnia, you may have trouble falling asleep)
And like every morning, he tried to silence the voices in his head with the only thing that made sense anymore-discipline.
He stepped onto his private gym's treadmill. The city glimmered beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass as he hit the 'Start' button.
Speed: 15 km/h. Incline: 7.
No warm-up. No music. Just the sound of his feet hammering the belt and the growl of breath grinding through clenched teeth.
Sweat poured down his temple, soaking through his vest. But he didn't stop. Couldn't.
Pain was clarity. Pain was control. It was the only thing that reminded him he was still alive.
He paused only when the timer hit 60 minutes.
Standing before the mirror, he stared at his reflection with the cold detachment of a stranger.
Sharp jawline, knuckles permanently bruised from underground fight clubs he visited when grief got too loud, and eyes-black and exhausted, haunted by the absence of her.
The girl with hasel green eyes.
The girl who was supposed to be his.
Burying her thoughts in his mind, he headed to the bathroom and showered under scalding water. Another ritual. Another attempt to burn out the ghosts.
By 7:15 a.m., he was suited in black-on-black. His movements were precise, devoid of emotion. Cufflinks locked. Watch strapped. Wallet. Gun.
He didn't need security. He was the threat.
8:00 a.m. - Malhotra Enterprises, Central Delhi
Ishaan entered the building like a storm wrapped in Armani. His aura silenced corridors. Conversations died mid-sentence. Interns bowed their heads. Employees fixed their ties and prayed not to be noticed.
At his side walked Ruhaan.
"Security details from the Singapore merger are ready for your sign-off," Ruhaan began, scanning his iPad.
"You also have a closed-door board review with finance at 9. And HR wanted to confirm that the interns arrive today-interviews are tomorrow."
"Handled by whom?" Ishaan asked, voice flat.
"Ms. Ahuja. You're not scheduled for it."
"Keep it that way," Ishaan replied.
Ruhaan risked a smirk. "You sure? Might be fun to scare a few freshers."
Ishaan stopped walking.
Ruhaan sobered immediately.
Ishaan's eyes narrowed. "Fun died thirteen years ago."
Ruhaan nodded once. "Right."
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•°•°IRA°•°•
Day Two in Delhi - 9:45 a.m., Malhotra Enterprises
The sun blazed against the glass skyscrapers of central Delhi, but inside the towering Malhotra Enterprises building, the air was cool, clinical, and laced with tension.
Ira stood beside Ruhi in the waiting lounge on the twelfth floor-where all the shortlisted interns had gathered.
The building was too silent, too polished, and too intense to feel like a regular office. It didn't breathe. It watched.
"I think I just saw someone get fired with a nod," Ruhi whispered, clutching her folder.
Ira gave a quiet laugh, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She wore a white shirt tucked into sleek beige trousers, hair tied into a loose bun, lips painted with a muted brown tint-professional but untouched by pretense.
"I don't know whether to be scared or fascinated," she replied.
"Both," Ruhi muttered. "Definitely both."
Their names were called, one after the other. Ira's hands were steady as she picked up her resume and followed the receptionist.
Inside, the panel of HR managers and executives wore unreadable expressions, the Malhotra logo gleaming behind them.
The questions came rapid-fire-real case scenarios, company ethics, strategy thinking. Ira handled each with poise.
Not robotic, not overconfident-just honest, sharp, and unshaken. A mind that adapted. A voice that didn't tremble.
Ruhi followed with her charm and wit, disarming one of the stricter panelists with a clever retort on market trends.
Fourth five minutes later, the two friends walked out-subtly high-fiving without the others noticing.
"We did it, didn't we?" Ruhi whispered.
"We did," Ira replied, her voice warm-but her chest tight.
Because the moment she stepped into that building, something had shifted.
A strange energy. Like some invisible string had pulled taut. Like she'd walked into the epicenter of something that had once broken her, without realizing it.
She didn't know yet.
He was upstairs.
She had walked past his glass office.
But destiny, cruel and cunning, hadn't let them meet-yet.
Scene Switch - Ishaan's Office, Same Time
He stood before the window, unaware that she had just walked under the very sky he stared into.
His phone buzzed.
Ruhaan: Interviews done. Shortlist being finalized. Top two: Ruhi Shaah & Ira Awasthi.
Ishaan didn't respond.
He didn't know it yet either.
But her name had entered his world again.
And soon, her presence would shatter his silence like thunder in a drought.
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Time skips.. Next Day..
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•°•°ISHAAN°•°•
5:30 P.M - Private Office
"Issue with security," Ruhaan announced, stepping in.
"Go on."
"A coder. Adarsh Mehta. Junior developer. He accessed a restricted file. Nothing major, but sensitive enough to raise red flags. This morning, he disappeared."
"Run."
"Gone."
Ishaan's eyes narrowed.
"He's off-grid. Phone's last ping came from an overcrowded location-a fairground near South Delhi. The tech team is sweeping it."
Ishaan's voice dropped to a lethal calm. "I'll handle it."
"Ishaan, this is surveillance-level work. We can send a team...."
"No. A traitor on my soil, in my company, risks more than data." He stood. "He insults my control."
And Ishaan Malhotra never tolerated insult.
:
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'Their First Encounter --- Eyes That Cured Him'
(A/n- I'm adding some headings in bw the chapter to divide the scenes)
The air was thick with the scent of roasted corn.
Lanterns dangled like stars in the mist, flickering golden against the dusk. Children laughed. Music played somewhere in the distance-soft, nostalgic, a melody too tender for the moment. The whole fair felt like a story waiting to unfold.
....Music....
[please if you can then play the song --uska hi bana -- 1920 evil returns]
It started with a shift in the wind.
Not a gust. Not a breeze.
But a stillness-a pause.
As if the world forgot to exhale.
Ishaan's boots struck the cobblestone path of the open-air fairground, each step echoing louder than it should've in a place so crowded.
His jaw clenched. The team whispered updates in his earpiece-the traitor had been spotted, last seen near the eastern tent-but he wasn't listening anymore.
He was feeling.
Something clawed beneath his ribs. A dull, aching pulse. Not adrenaline. Not instinct. Something older. Something he hadn't dared to name in thirteen years.
A scent drifted past-jasmine and petrichor.
मेरी किस्मत के, हर एक पन्ने पे
मेरे जीते जी, बाद मरने के
He stopped walking.
It wasn't her. Couldn't be.
Yet the scent lingered-haunting. Teasing. Calling.
मेरे हर इक कल, हर इक लम्हे में
तू लिख दे मेरा उऐ
In the middle of the fair, Ira stood, in a soft white kurti and delicate jhumkas, turned slowly beneath a fluttering canopy of marigolds-her smile lit up like a sunrise even the clouds couldn't hide.
Her laughter spilled into the air like a melody lost in time.
हर कहानी में, सारे क़िस्सों में
दिल की दुनिया के सच्चे रिश्तों में
Ishaan stood frozen at a distance. His black shirt fitted perfectly, sleeves rolled up, a light drizzle glistening on his sharp jawline. His eyes-restless, hollow for years-had just found their first moment of stillness.
ज़िंदगानी के सारे हिस्सों में
तू लिख दे मेरा उसे
He hadn't seen her.
He felt her.
Before his eyes found her, his soul had recognized her.
Around him, the sky began to tremble, clouds closing in like secrets tightening their grip. Then-
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
जब बना, उसका ही बना
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
जब बना, उसका ही बना
Rain.
Not heavy. Not violent. But gentle. Reverent.
The first drop hit his shoulder. The second, his brow. The third... straight to the center of his chest, where something broken stirred.
A string of fairy lights above them sparked and flickered.
The drizzle intensified into rain, soft at first, then insistent.
And just like that, time slowed.
People ran for shelter.
Music blurred.
But Ishaan didn't move.
उसका हूँ, उसमें हूँ, उससे हूँ
उसी का रहने दे
(Flashback flashes through his mind:)
(A younger Niyati spinning in rain, barefoot.
Her hands cupping his bruised knuckles.
Her voice whispering, "You're mine, Ishaan. Even if the world forgets us.")
मैं तो प्यासा हूँ, है दरिया वो
ज़रिया वो जीने का मेरे
His breath stilled.
No.
It was impossible.
He turned, scanning faces.
Not her. Not here.
मुझे घर दे, गली दे, शहर दे
उसी के नाम के
The crowd shifted.Then the scent hit him again. Her. Like first rain and distant warmth.
कदम ये चले या रुके अब उसी के वास्ते
दिल मुझे दे अगर, दर्द दे उसका पर
He followed it like a man possessed.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the fairgrounds as umbrellas bloomed like sudden flowers. He should have kept walking, should have stayed focused on the traitor, but his body disobeyed. Something inside him whispered:
उसकी हो वो हँसी, गूँजे जो मेरा घर
She's here.
He didn't know why. Didn't know how.
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
जब बना, उसका ही बना
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
जब बना, उसका ही बना
But his soul had begun to scream.
Something tugged at him.
He turned.
And there-through the swirl of colors, lights, and people-he saw her.
Just her back.
A figure in a white kurti, damp at the hem from puddles. A gentle sway to her steps. Long, dark hair. A faint chime from her anklet as she walked slowly toward the chaat stall.
That gait. That rhythm. That softness.
He'd forgotten how to breathe.
His lips parted, his chest clenched.
It can't be...
No. But-
God, if it's her...
"Niyati."
He didn't whisper it. He gasped it.
And then-
मेरे हिस्से की खुशी को, हँसी को
तू चाहे आधा कर
चाहे ले ले तू मेरी ज़िंदगी पर
ये मुझसे वादा कर
He ran.
Like a madman. Through the crowd. Pushing past vendors, nearly knocking down a family, eyes wild, heart in his throat. People stared, some cursed. But he didn't care.
उसके अश्कों पे, ग़मों पे, दुखों पे
हर उसके ज़ख्म पर
He was on the edge again.
Like all those years ago when she was ripped from his arms.
Like all those sleepless nights wondering if he imagined her existence.
हक़ मेरा ही रहे हर जगह, हर घड़ी, हाँ उम्र भर
And now she was here.
Rain thundered down.
Without warning.
No soft drizzle. Just a downpour, like the skies had waited for this moment.
It didn't stop him.
अब फ़क़त हो यही, वो रहे मुझ में ही
He ran harder.
Feet soaked. Clothes cling to him like a second skin. The rain blurred everything-faces, voices, lights-but not her.
Then-
वो जुदा कहने को, बिछड़े न पर कभी
Through the mist of falling rain, he saw her again.
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
जब बना, उसका ही बना
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
जब बना, उसका ही बना
She stood still.
Under an old rusted ferris wheel, her hand stretched out, feeling the rain with closed eyes and a small smile. Her dupatta flew wildly behind her. Children ran around. The fair buzzed on.
But Ishaan saw only her.
He stopped.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Just stared-soaking in every inch of her like a man starved of sunlight.
His hand trembled. His throat tightened. His knees wanted to buckle from the weight of his heart.
He could see her smile faintly-peaceful, untouched by the chaos.
She tilt her face to the sky as if thanking the rain itself.
So alive.
So unaware.
She didn't see him. Didn't know him.
मेरी किस्मत के हर एक पन्ने पे
मेरे जीते जी बाद मरने के
मेरे हर इक कल, हर इक लम्हे में
तू लिख दे मेरा उसे
But Ishaan...
He felt as if he'd waited lifetimes for this second.
Every night spent staring at the ceiling.
Every dream that ended in a whisper.
Every ache he couldn't name.
It all made sense now.
Because this wasn't a chance meeting.
This wasn't a coincidence.
It was destiny coming full circle.
She didn't know he was there. She didn't feel his eyes on her.
But he... he felt like he'd found his entire existence again.
And then-slowly-like destiny had choreographed this moment, she turned.
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
ऐ खुदा, ऐ खुदा
'HER EYE MET HIS'
***
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