"Kaashvi!"
My mumma's voice tore through the house like an alarm clock on steroids. Ironically, the actual alarm buzzing in my bed had no such effect-I'd snoozed it three times already.
With eyes half open, I blindly fumbled around in my blanket like playing hide-and-seek with my phone.
Found it.
8:17 AM.
College starts at 9.
Now, instead of being a sane, responsible person and getting ready, I chose maturity. I opened Instagram and started scrolling through reels.
My feed? A shrine of blonde men posting thirst traps like it's their religion. What a divine start to the day.
Battery at 12%. I tossed the phone on charge and dragged myself into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, I stepped out with a towel wrapped around me and stood before my wardrobe like a contestant on a fashion game show.
After a lot of unnecessary staring, I settled on a plain white kurti and baggy blue jeans. I threw on a random dupatta from my study chair-it surprisingly pulled the look together.
Silver bangles. My blue-tinted glasses.
Not because I need them.
Just for aesthetics.
I clicked a mirror selfie and made a mental note to post it later.
Downstairs, mumma was serving aloo parathas while dad and Myra sat at the table. Myra? Having her usual breakfast-avocado toast with no spice, no soul.
"Good morning," I mumbled.
Dad and Myra greeted me back with smiles. I sat down and checked my phone again, only to be hit with- "How many times do I have to say-no phones at the dining table? Ms. Tiktik?" Mumma clearly aimed it at me.
She's diagnosed herself with the rare condition of giving me weird nicknames. Once, she called me "phone se chipki hui chipkali." I've never recovered.
"She's an influencer now," Myra added while chewing dramatically.
Sasti Hailey Bieber, I thought, rolling my eyes.
"She has 15K followers now," Dad said proudly, smiling at me like I'd won an Oscar.
He's always been my biggest cheerleader.
Mumma? Not so much.
She wants me to top every subject, every test, and preferably-life.
Instagram was supposed to be a side thing.
Then it became 15K followers and a semi-career.
"Jaisa baap, waisi aulaad," mumma muttered in that classic loud-whisper tone that's technically not yelling, but meant to be heard.
Silence.
Her morning anger is a villain origin story.
I shoved my phone in my college bag and stuffed my mouth with paratha instead.
That's my morning.
Chaotic.
Unscripted.
Never pre-planned.
I finished breakfast, dumped the plate in the sink, and left for college.
***********
The college gate looked as sleepy as the watchman standing next to it. I flashed my ID and walked toward the lecture hall, mentally making a to-do list before my viva- Two lectures.
Just then, a hand touched my shoulder.
No jump scare-I knew who it was.
"Tara," I said, turning.
"I didn't sleep at all," she groaned.
her eye bags could tell.
"Yeah, your eyes look like they've been busy binge-watching Netflix" I replied, and we walked in.
We slid into the last bench. The windows were open, a soft breeze flowing through. No sun. Just cloudy skies-my favorite kind of vibe.
The lecture dragged on. Tara and I took notes. Eventually, the professor started solving doubts, and she zipped up her bag.
"So, your brother's arriving today. What about his gift?"
"Yes! After four years in NYC, he's finally coming home," I smiled. "I missed him. I ordered his gift ten days ago. Just have to pick it up today."
"I missed your brother too," she smirked.
"I'll tell vivek."
"Rude," she pouted.
The professor finally said, "Class dismissed."
Tara and I headed to the cafeteria for cold coffee. One more lecture left. Then viva. I sipped while flipping through my notebook, speed-revising.
At 11:30am, I texted the store employee who was in charge of my order.
"I'll collect the order by 1:30, hope that's okay?"
The reply came fast. Too fast.
"We won't be able to deliver it, ma'am. The products are being sent to another bulk client. Refunds will be initiated within 5-6 business days."
Excuse me?
I stared at my screen.
I placed the order ten days ago. Ten
Tara was right. Someone replaced the "L" in my luck with an "F."
Great. Now I'd have to run around shops hoping to find something remotely decent.
At least I had the handmade card.
Yes, I made one. A cheesy, glittery, borderline embarrassing handmade card.
But Bhaiya always loved handwritten notes.
I figured-he might like one from me too.
And now, it might be the only gift I'll show up with.
********
I took a cab after my viva.
It went okay-ish-I guess I sounded too robotic, but at least it was over. Right now, all I cared about was finding a gift. Everything else could wait.
About twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up near a local gift shop. I got out, paid the fare, and walked in.
The store smelled like vanilla and budget desperation. Shelves stacked with perfumes, soft toys, cheesy frames-typical stuff. A salesgirl appeared out of nowhere, way too cheerful for my mood.
"May I help you, ma'am?" she chirped.
"Yeah," I muttered, distracted.
She led me to some options, but nothing clicked. I nodded politely, then slipped away before I lost my cool and wandered into the men's section by myself.
That's when I saw it-
A black leather wallet. Minimal, sleek, elegant. Exactly Bhaiya's vibe.
"This is it," I breathed.
At the counter, I asked, "Can you get this customized?"
The guy behind the counter nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Great. Please engrave 'AM' inside," I said.
He scribbled something down, then carefully wrapped the wallet while I waited. For once, something was going right.
Wallet secured, I stepped out and booked a cab.
That's when I saw him-a guy standing across the road, on a call, totally unaware of the SUV tearing toward him at full speed.
No horn. No slowdown.
"Hey! Watch out!" I shouted.
He didn't move.
Instinct kicked in.
I dropped my bag and sprinted.
The world blurred. I slammed into him, shoving him hard onto the footpath just in time.
We both fell-me half on top of him, my face practically buried in his neck, his arm caught awkwardly around my waist.
And then-
CRASH.
The SUV smashed into a tree. Glass exploded across the road. Screams rose. Tires screeched. People ran.
We scrambled to our feet.
An old woman clutched her heart. "Thank God no one's hurt," she whispered.
The driver stumbled out of the SUV, clearly drunk. Someone called the police. Someone else yelled. I stood frozen, adrenaline still buzzing in my veins.
And him? The guy I'd literally just saved?
He looked at me like I'd just insulted his ancestors.
"What?" I said, panting.
He brushed imaginary dirt off his expensive black suit. "You ruined my suit," he snapped.
I blinked. "Are you serious right now? Don't you think the first words out of your mouth should be-oh, I don't know-thank you?"
He scoffed. "Thank you? For tackling me to the ground and scratching my Rolex?"
"For saving your damn life!" I snapped.
He tilted his head. "Don't talk. Your voice is... incredibly ear-wrenching."
My mouth dropped open. "You know what? Screw you."
I stormed off, picked up my bag from the pavement, and climbed into my cab just as it arrived. Perfect timing.
I slammed the door shut and opened my phone to distract myself from the ungrateful prick I had just rescued.
That's when I saw a text from mumma
"Kaashu, where are you, beta? Bhaiya has landed."
I replied instantly
"Coming, Mumma."
Her response came seconds later
"Come straight home. We're heading back too."
I changed the drop location.
*********
When I reached home, I paid the driver and walked in.
The house was alive with voices.
Laughter echoed from the living room-my chacha-chachi, their kids Ansh and Pihu, everyone was there.
And in the center of it all, stood Abhishek Bhaiya.
I ran straight to him.
He opened his arms and hugged me tight, holding me like a memory you don't want to lose.
"I missed you so much, Abhi Bhaiya," I mumbled into his shoulder.
"Really? Is that why you ditched the airport welcome?" he teased.
"Hey! It was my viva!" I protested, smacking his arm lightly.
Obviously, I skipped the part where I nearly died saving a designer-obsessed jerk.
Mumma watched us with that dramatic 'aww' face she pulls during every emotional moment. I smiled at her.
"Oh-wait!" I said suddenly, remembering.
I dug into my bag and pulled out the little box. It was slightly squished from earlier chaos but still looked okay.
"What's that?" Bhaiya asked.
"A spaceship. Obviously," I said. "Just open it."
He raised an eyebrow, unwrapped it-and paused.
Black leather. Gold initials-'AM' inside.
"open it-"
Then he opened it. And found a photo tucked into the first card slot-me and him, ages ago, both covered in chocolate like two criminals mid-heist. I had slid it in during the cab ride. It was originally tucked behind my phone case because I missed him so much. And it just... felt right.
His thumb brushed over the photo.
"You added this?"
I shrugged. "Memories deserve space too."
He didn't speak for a second. Just... smiled softly.
Then he pulled out a tiny folded note from the money section.
"And this?" he asked.
"Oh. That? That's-nothing. Just... read it later."
"You wrote something?"
"Shut up and read it later," I muttered, suddenly embarrassed. "Just pretend to be moved."
He grinned. "You're so dramatic."
"And you're welcome," I said, turning to leave. "I expect tears when you read it, by the way."
Myra handed me a chilled glass of water, and I downed it in one go.
We all sat around, catching up, laughing, teasing. Papa brought up the time Bhaiya and I rang neighbors' doorbells and sprinted like idiots..
The afternoon melted into golden light.
Mumma and Chachi went into the kitchen to prepare lunch. I slipped into my room to change into comfier clothes and, on impulse, ordered three tubs of ice cream. Because why not?
It had been a long day. But somehow, it felt... good.
**********
After lunch, we all decided to watch a movie: me, Abhi Bhaiya, Myra, Ansh, and Pihu.
We crammed into Myra's room-girl has a fifty-inch TV, while mine doesn't even have cable. Not that I mind. I survive on my phone and laptop anyway.
"What are we watching?" Myra asked, turning on Netflix.
"Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara," Ansh suggested.
"No thanks," Pihu replied instantly. "Zindagi na mile dobara toh better hai."
I choked on air. Bhaiya laughed too.
"What's with the shade?" I asked.
"I have board exams this year," she said dramatically. "I might actually fail."
"The boards aren't that scary," Myra said while scrolling. "We've all survived."
After five trailers and too much indecision, we agreed on Hera Pheri. A classic. Safe. And enough to make the room explode with laughter.
*********
Dinner time.
Chacha and Chachi had left, and now it was just Papa, Mumma, Myra, Abhi Bhaiya, and me. Mumma had made all of Bhaiya's favorite dishes.
Fresh out of the shower, I walked into the kitchen to help.
"What happened?" Mumma asked, glancing over her shoulder while stirring mango dessert.
"You need help?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her and resting my chin on her shoulder.
She smiled. "Nahi-go spend time with Abhishek."
"It's okay. I can help you," I offered. Good daughter points.
She paused. "If you're insisting, then wash the dishes."
And that's where I drew the line.
"Suddenly I feel dizzy," I said dramatically and spun out of the kitchen. I heard her laughing behind me.
She calls me kaamchor for a reason. Not because I'm lazy-I just deeply despise doing dishes.
I went to the living room. Only Papa and Myra were there, snacking on crackers.
"Where's Bhaiya?" I asked.
"In his room. Said he had some work," Papa replied, offering me a cracker. I took one and headed to Bhaiya's room.
The door was shut but not locked.
Just as I reached for the handle-I heard his voice.
"Hmm... I know, baby. I miss you too."
BABY?!
I froze. Did he just say baby?
My brother?
Abhishek?
Abhishek Mehra?
I leaned in, practically gluing my ear to the door like some undercover spy.
"She's been calling me since morning-she'll barge in if I don't come out for dinner."
Oh my god. He's talking about me. I'm the she. I nearly choked.
And then, just to complete the humiliation
"I love you too."
This man once cried when I accidentally broke his Hot Wheels car. And now he's out here whispering I-love-you's like he's the lead in a K-drama?
I knocked. Twice. Like a normal, innocent sister who definitely wasn't eavesdropping.
"Yeah-uh-I'll call you later," he said. A second later, the door creaked open.
He looked calm. Too calm.
"Oh hello, Mister Lover Boy," I said, crossing my arms. "Romantic pre-dinner convos, huh?"
He rolled his eyes. "You're imagining things."
"Oh, am I? You literally said 'baby' and 'love you' five seconds ago. And now you're pretending I'm the crazy one?"
"Get out," he said, nudging me away.
"Make me," I said, flopping onto his bed. "Also, I deserve to know her name. Full name. Instagram. Blood group. Birth chart. Or I'll tell Mumma."
"Kaashvi."
"Abhishek."
A stare-down.
He sighed. "You're so annoying."
"And you're secretly romantic. Ew."
"Get out before I throw a slipper."
I raised my hands. "Fine, fine. But this convo is far from over, Romeo."
And with that, I made my exit.
But inside, my brain was working overtime.
Who was this girl?
I rushed to my room and opened my laptop. Obviously, I logged in from my stalking account-my main one was way too dangerous for this level of investigation. My fingers? Dumb. They don't understand stealth. I once liked a shirtless pic of a guy I had a crush on in 1st year. His back. Chiseled like a Greek statue. I liked it. Instantly. On my main.
Hence @kesarwali.rasmalai_
my stalking acc.
I clicked on Abhishek's profile and opened his following list.
Mostly celebrities. A few family members.
But then-after three scrolls-I found her.
Amaira Rai Singhania.
No blue tick. Not a public figure. Not family.
I clicked.
And oh god. She was stunning. Flawless skin. Perfect hair. Aesthetic feed.
Too pretty for my brother.
My brother who literally looks like a rat dressed in Zara.
And then I saw it.
A picture.
Amaira's hand resting on a man's shoulder. Her face glowing. His face? Hidden. But the build, the watch, the posture-I knew it.
It was Bhaiya.
Posted two years ago.
TWO YEARS.
They've been dating for two whole years-and I had no freaking clue?
V O T E & C O M M E N T
β‘
hiiii my emotionally unstable internet besties π»
you just finished ch 1 and I wanna ask-
WHO TF WAS THAT MAN???
man appeared.
got saved.
cried about his suit.
called her ear-wrenching π
and vanished like a red flag in a tux.
WHY IS HE HOT? WHY IS HE RUDE? WHY IS MY TOXIC TYPE SHOWING???
anyway.
I'll be leaking chaotic spoilers, sneak peeks on my Instagram @wrensarchivess
so pls go follow me thereπ«
drop your theories in the comments. (PLSS)
ok byeeee.
go hydrate.
go scream in the comments.
go block a man for fun.
*kisses ur third eye*
- WREN πΆοΈπ―οΈπ
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