Tapasya — The Diary Revelations
The room was dim, the air heavy with memories.
Raindrops tapped against the window, soft and rhythmic — like a heartbeat she'd once waited to hear.
Dhairya stood near the window, a diary trembling slightly in his hands.
Her words stared back at him — his name written like a mantra, again and again.
Seven years of devotion. Seven years of silence.
Each line a prayer, each word a wound he'd never seen.
The door creaked open.
Shrishti stepped in quietly — her laughter from the corridor still lingering in the air, until her gaze fell on him.
On the diary.
Her world froze.
For a moment, the only sound was the whisper of the curtain.
Her eyes widened — shock flashed first, then hurt, then a fragile calm as she blinked away everything she wanted to say.
"Dhairya…" she whispered, voice trembling like a prayer.
He turned, guilt and disbelief clashing in his eyes.
"Ye… sab mujhe kabhi pata hi nahi chala, Shrishti," he said, his voice barely a breath.
She smiled faintly — the kind of smile people wear when they've already cried enough.
Pata tab chalta jab tumhe mehsoos hota, Dhairya…
jab mehsoos hi nahi hua, toh pata kaise chalta.
Her eyes shimmered; the storm inside her reflected in that calm surface.
She stepped back, adjusting her dupatta as if pulling herself together.
Tum ye sab chhodo… bahar di aur jiju ke phere ho rahe hain.
He stared, disbelief cracking his composure.
Tumhe koi farq nahi padta iss baat se… ki main—
She stopped him, eyes meeting his — steady, broken, divine.
Nahi, Dhairya… kyunki ye pyaar nahi hai.
Ye tapasya hai.
Aur tapasya… ek taraf hi hoti hai.
She turned away, her anklet chiming once a soft goodbye no word could carry.
And as she left, the diary slipped from Dhairya's hand falling open to a page that ended with just one line:
Usne kabhi dekha nahi,
par maine har din use dekha khud me, duaon me, khamosiyon me
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Pehli Rasoi — The Divine Beginning
Morning sunlight spilled gently through the curtains, wrapping the room in gold.
Isha stood before the mirror, draped in a red silk saree — sindoor gleaming in her parting, mangalsutra resting near her heart.
Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her pallu, the weight of a new life sinking in softly.
She'd healed others all her life…
but today, her heart beat like a patient's before their first breath of hope.
Just then, the door creaked open.
Rudraksha stepped in — in a simple white kurta, eyes calm, yet filled with wonder.
For a moment, he forgot to blink.
He'd seen Isha as a doctor, a daughter, a friend…
but never as his.
His lips parted unconsciously — "Isha…"
She turned, startled, then blushed under his gaze.
"Rudra… kaisi lag rahi hu?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled — that rare, gentle smile that only she could draw out of him.
"Bilkul Parvati jaisi… bilkul meri."
Her cheeks flushed crimson, heart skipping a beat — before she could respond, Rudraksha quietly stepped closer.
Then — without a word — he bent down.
Isha froze, confusion flickering in her eyes.
"Rudra… ye kya kar rahe ho?"
He looked up, sincerity glowing in his eyes.
"Apni Lakshmi ka ashirwad le raha hu, Isha.
Humare yahan roz subah Lakshmi ji ka ashirwad lete hain…
aaj socha, apni Lakshmi se hi le lu."
Tears brimmed instantly in her lashes — not of sadness, but of something purer.
She lightly placed her hand on his head — trembling, sacred.
And since that day, Rudraksha roz subah Isha ke pair chhuta tha — bina shabd ke, bina ritual ke, bas ek aadat ke jaise, ek shraddha ke jaise.
The conch blew from the kitchen, calling her for pehli rasoi.
She smiled through her tears and said softly —
"Chaliye, mere Shiv. Aaj prasad hum dono milke banayenge."
He smiled — "Haan, meri Parvati."
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Runaway Hearts — Shivanya × Ritvik
The night was heavy with silence.
Streetlight ka halke orange glow unke chehre par gir raha tha — ek taraf darr, dusri taraf pyaar.
Shivanya's hands trembled as she clutched the small bag close to her chest.
Her eyes glistened — not from excitement, but from a storm she was trying to hide.
"Ritvik… tumhe lagta hai hum sahi kar rahe hain?" she asked, her voice shaking like a fragile truth.
Ritvik looked at her — tired, yet sure.
"Shivanya, humare paas doosra option nahi hai."
"Par… Dadu Dadi?" she whispered, guilt weighing down every word.
Ritvik sighed softly, stepping closer.
"Hum unka ashirwad lekar shaadi karenge, Shivanya.
Dekho, jo situation hai… usme hume ye rasta lena hi hoga.
Kabhi kabhi sahi galat nahi hota, bas zarurat hoti hai."
Her eyes welled up. She looked away, voice breaking —
"Tum mera saath nahi nibha paoge, Ritvik…
mera past sab kuch kharab kar dega."
For a moment, he just stared — and then, slowly, he took her trembling hands in his