Roohi wasn’t sure when it happened, or how exactly, but her cheeks had been warm for the last hour—ever since Siddharth tied the little knot of her kurti behind her neck.
It was such a small thing.
A simple knot.
A simple touch.
But her body had reacted like he had whispered her deepest secret in her ear.
Even now, sitting cross-legged on the bed, she could still feel the ghost of his fingertips brushing her skin. She pressed her palms to her cheeks; they were still hot.
What is wrong with me? Why am I smiling like this?
But the smile didn’t go away. If anything, it grew.
The soft murmur of running water came from the bathroom shower. Siddharth had gone for a bath a few minutes ago, and faint steam drifted through the slightly open gap of the door. It carried the scent of his body wash—something warm and clean with a hint of citrus that always made her heart feel strangely safe.
Roohi played with the edge of her dupatta, the burned spot on her hand throbbing lightly. She looked at it with a soft ache in her chest.
Tonight had changed something inside her.
Rekha Maa had fed her… with her own hands. Carefully. Gently. As if she’d been feeding her daughter.
And Roohi had felt something she had never experienced before—care that didn’t feel forced, love that didn’t demand anything in return. A mother’s love… something she had only ever watched from far away.
She swallowed hard.
Maybe… maybe she really accepts me. Maybe… I’m not alone anymore.
Her eyes stung a little, but in a sweet way. She wiped them quickly and stood up to put her dupatta away.
That’s when she saw it.
A tiny gray rat.
Near the dresser.
Sniffing. Wiggling its whiskers.
Roohi froze.
Every thought left her head.
Her soul said: goodbye.
Her heart said: error 404.
Her legs said: run!!!
“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Roohi screamed with the intensity of someone witnessing the apocalypse.
The bathroom door flew open instantly.
“Roohi?!” Siddharth shouted, stepping out—
Hair dripping, water running down his shoulders, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
But Roohi didn’t notice any of that.
Because the rat moved.
She bolted toward him like a missile and jumped straight into his arms, clinging onto him as if gravity no longer existed.
“SIDDHAAARTH!!!” she shrieked. “Rat! RAT! There’s a rat in the room! It’s huge—like—like a tiger with a tail!”
Siddharth caught her with a grunt, one arm supporting her back, the other gripping his towel for dear life.
“Roohi—calm down—” he tried to speak, but she clutched his neck harder.
“No! It’s plotting my murder! I swear!”
A laugh escaped him despite the chaos.
He exhaled softly, adjusting her in his arms so she wouldn’t slip.
“Roohi,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
She was shaking like a leaf, breath uneven, heart pounding against his chest. Slowly—hesitantly—she lifted her face from his shoulder.
And their eyes met.
Her breath caught.
Siddharth’s chest rose and fell steadily, droplets sliding down his collarbone, disappearing under the towel. His hair was wet and falling over his forehead, his jaw sharp in the dim light.
His hands were warm on her waist.
Her hands were not supposed to be on his bare shoulders… but they were.
The moment stretched—soft, intense, electric.
Her heartbeat skipped, then raced.
His eyes softened, then deepened.
And suddenly the room felt too small for the air between them.
Roohi swallowed.
Siddharth didn’t speak.
Neither did she.
Their faces were close—too close—and her stomach fluttered in a way she had never felt before. She felt tiny, sheltered, held… but also breathtakingly aware of him. His warmth. His scent. His heartbeat.
Then—
“Aiyoooooo! I didn’t see anything! NOTHING!” Anika’s voice exploded from the doorway.
Roohi jerked away from Siddharth so fast she nearly fell. He caught her wrist out of reflex—saving her once again.
Anika stood frozen at the door, palms slapped over her eyes, peeking through her fingers every two seconds in pure dramatic chaos.
“I swear I didn’t see bhaabhi on bhaiya! I swear!” she shouted and ran away like a rocket disappearing into the sky.
Roohi wished the earth would swallow her whole.
Her face went tomato red.
Her ears burned.
Her hands shook.
“Oh god… oh god… what will she think of me?” she whispered, horrified.
Siddharth rubbed his forehead, trying not to laugh.
“That we were fighting a rat together?” he teased with a straight face.
Roohi glared at him weakly.
“I’m never showing my face to her again…”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“You’re overreacting.”
“No I’m not!” she insisted, cheeks burning. “She thinks—I don’t know what she thinks—but she thinks SOMETHING!”
He smirked.
“Relax. Roohi.”
Roohi pointed at the floor frantically.
“And the rat?!”
“It’s gone,” he said calmly.
“How do you know?!”
“Because it probably ran away from your scream.”
Roohi covered her face.
“I hate rats,” she whispered. “They hate me.”
Siddharth chuckled softly and reached out—gently lifting her chin with his knuckles.
“You’re fine,” he said quietly. “Now let me go wear some clothes before someone else comes in.”
Her breath froze.
She nodded—way too quickly—and stepped back.
He turned toward the bathroom, but paused at the doorway. Slowly, he turned back, eyes lingering on her face for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
“You look cute when you panic,” he murmured.
Roohi forgot how to breathe.
Siddharth disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Roohi stood rooted in place, heart tumbling inside her chest, her breath unsteady, her cheeks warm, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
Her day had been full of emotions—fear, guilt, pain, comfort, acceptance…
But this—
This little moment of chaos, tenderness, and accidental closeness—
Was the one she knew she’d remember the longest.
***
Classes were never this long.
Or maybe it just felt that way today.
The professor’s voice droned somewhere in the background, steady and dull, like someone humming a tune they didn’t even enjoy. I stared at the board for a few minutes, pretending to listen, but my attention was dissolving like sugar in hot tea.
My notebook lay open.
Blank.
My pen tapped against the page, restless.
I sighed softly. Why am I so bored today?
Slowly, without even realizing, my pen began to move.
A small curved line.
Then another.
I blinked.
A heart.
An actual heart.
On my notebook.
“Oh god…” I whispered under my breath.
Before I could react, my hand… my traitorous hand… wrote one more thing inside that heart:
Siddharth.
My breath hitched.
Heat rushed to my cheeks immediately, burning hot enough to melt the page. I slapped my hand over the drawing and looked around quickly to make sure no one saw.
Why would I draw a heart? Why would I… write his name?
My heart thudded in my chest—fast, confused, excited.
I closed my eyes for a moment, and like always… he appeared in my mind.
Not the serious Siddharth from the hall or the dining table.
But the one from the night of the rat.
His wet hair dripping onto his forehead.
His arm around my waist.
The warmth of his chest.
His calm voice saying, “Roohi… breathe. I’m here.”
I bit my lip, cheeks warming again.
Even now, just thinking of it made my stomach flutter.
And of course—
Ankita.
That girl had tortured me ever since.
“Bhabhi, next time rat aaye na, bhaiya ko bula lena, towel ready rakho,” she would say, wiggling her eyebrows.
I sank deeper into my desk, hiding my face, remembering how she burst into giggles every time she saw me.
Still…
I… didn’t hate it.
For the first time, being teased felt… like I was part of something. Like a family joke instead of cruelty. There was warmth in it. Mischief. Love.
Not like the teasing I grew up with.
A soft ache tugged at my heart.
Before my thoughts could go deeper, the bell rang.
Students stood, chairs screeched, laughter erupted. I closed my notebook quickly, hiding the heart as if it was a crime scene.
I stepped out of the classroom and walked slowly toward the canteen.
It felt… lonely today.
Tara and Sana had both taken leave.
Usually, the three of us would sit under the big neem tree, laughing about something stupid, sharing samosas, complaining about assignments. Today, the corridor felt too quiet without them.
I missed them more than I expected.
Just a few more days, I told myself. They’ll be back.
I kept walking, lost in thoughts, when—
THUD.
“Ouch!” I whispered, stumbling slightly.
A hand gripped my elbow.
When I looked up…
my heartbeat dropped to my stomach.
Rinki.
My step-sister.
The one person I prayed I would never meet inside this college.
Her brightly painted lips twisted into a mocking smile.
“Well, well, look who bumped into me,” she said loudly, making sure her friends heard.
My throat tightened instantly. My hands felt cold.
“I—I didn’t see—” I began quietly.
Rinki moved closer, brushing a cold hand through my hair.
“Uff… look at this hair,” she said with fake pity. “So messy. So middle-class. Didn’t your new in-laws teach you grooming?”
Her friends snickered.
I lowered my eyes.
Not here. Not again. Please not again.
She leaned forward and flicked my head lightly but sharply—
A familiar gesture.
The same one she used at home.
The same one that always made me feel small.
“Aise thodi chalta hai, Roohi,” she mock-whispered. “I mean… you’re a married woman now. At least TRY to look like one.”
My chest tightened.
Her friends laughed again.
The sound echoed inside my head, mixing with old memories—
Sarika smiling proudly at Rinki,
calling her beautiful,
praising her…
while I stood alone.
Always alone.
I stepped back nervously.
“I… I need to go,” I whispered.
“Where?” Rinki tilted her head. “Oh wait, let me guess—crying room?”
Her friends burst into louder laughter.
The words hit me harder than they should have.
Because crying room…
that used to be my room at home.
For years.
A place where I hid all my tears because no one cared enough to wipe them.
Something stung behind my eyes.
No, no, no—
not here.
Not in front of her.
Rinki’s laughter got louder as she circled me with her friends.
“Seriously, look at her face,” one of them said. “She’s gonna cry! How old is she?”
“She’s always been like this,” Rinki shrugged casually. “Extra sensitive. Extra dramatic. Extra useless.”
Their laughter stabbed through me like needles.
I swallowed hard and tried to hold everything inside—
the fear,
the humiliation,
the memories,
the pain.
But something inside me cracked.
My throat closed.
My vision blurred.
And before Rinki or her friends could say another word—
I ran.
I didn’t think.
I didn’t breathe.
I just ran.
Through the corridor.
Down the stairs.
Across the courtyard.
Past the noise, the crowd, the laughter.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. Hot. Fast. Painful.
I kept running until the canteen disappeared behind me and all I could hear was the pounding of my heartbeat.
I didn’t stop.
Not until I reached a quiet corner near the old banyan tree.
There, finally, my body collapsed onto the bench.
And I cried silently.
Cried for the girl I used to be.
Cried for the pain I thought I had escaped.
Cried for the moments when life suddenly reminded me I wasn’t as strong as I pretended to be.
But above all…
I cried becaus
e I had just begun to feel happy—
and one encounter with my past
made me feel like I didn’t deserve it.
I wiped my tears slowly, taking a shaky breath.
But somewhere deep inside…
a small voice whispered:
You are not alone now.
And for the first time…
I believed it a little.
Just a little.
______________________________________
✨Hey readers!
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