Devika Rudransh’s mother sat anxiously in the living room, her fingers restlessly fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta. The family pandit sat across from her, his eyes scanning Rudransh’s kundali with deep concentration.

“Koi baat hai, Pandit ji?” Devika finally asked, unable to hold back.

(Is there something, Pandit ji?)

The pandit slowly looked up, his eyes calm but unreadable.

“Sach mein koi baat hai kya? Kya isliye Rudransh shaadi ke liye mana kar raha hai?” Devika pressed again, her voice trembling with worry.

(Is there really something? Is this the reason Rudransh keeps refusing to marry?)

Devika had been trying to convince Rudransh for years now. At thirty, he had become the most stubborn bachelor in the family. Whenever the topic of marriage came up, he brushed it aside. Deep down, she knew it was because of his trust issues, but still—she longed to know whether marriage was even written in his fate.

“Jab bhi kahti ho mana kar deta hai. Tees ka ho gaya hai. Blackmail bhi nahi hota, baaki kamo mein toh ho jata hai.” She sighed, making everyone around laugh softly.

(Whenever I bring it up, he refuses. He’s already thirty. Blackmail doesn’t even work on him, though it works for everything else.)

She leaned forward, urging, “Bataiye na…”

(Tell me, please…)

“Arre, unhe dekhne to do,” Veerraj rudransh's dad interrupted gently, adjusting his glasses.

(Let him at least check first.)

“Aap chup rahe” Devika scolded instantly, glaring at her husband.

(You better stay quiet.)

Veerraj immediately sealed his lips, making the others chuckle.

“Rudransh beta kahaan hai?” the pandit asked, noticing that everyone was present except the man in question.

(Where is Rudransh, son?)

“Woh apni biwi se milne gaya hai,” Yuvraaj teased.

(He’s gone to meet his wife.)

The entire room turned toward him in disbelief.

“Biwi se? Lekin kundali mein toh abhi shaadi hui hi nahi hai,” the pandit frowned, confused.

(Wife? But according to his horoscope, he isn’t even married yet.)

“Arre, kaam ki baat kar raha hoon,” Yuvraaj clarified with a grin, making everyone shake their heads.

(I was talking about his work.)

“Bitter but truth, Pandit ji. Kaam ko hi sab bana liya hai usne. Subah-shaam bas kaam hi karta hai,” Devika added bitterly.

(Bitter but true, Pandit ji. He has made his work his whole world. From morning to night, he only works.)

The pandit smiled knowingly. “Itni chinta mat kijiye. Shaadi hogi.”

(Don’t worry so much. He will get married.)

At that, the whole room lit up with excitement. Devika leaned forward eagerly.

“Kab?” she asked, almost impatient.

(When?)

“Bahut jald,” the pandit replied with calm assurance.

(Very soon.)

“Kitni jald? Kaise hogi? Ladki kaisi hogi? Shaadi kaise hogi? Main ladki dekhun ya woh dekh lega? Love marriage ya arrange marriage?” Devika fired one question after another without pausing to breathe.

(How soon? How will it happen? What will the girl be like? How will the marriage happen? Should I see the girl or will he? Will it be love or arranged?)

“Arre, saans to lo,” Veerraj muttered from beside her.

(At least take a breath.)

“Bataiye na, ladki kaisi hogi?” Devika insisted ignoring her husband, her eyes full of hope.

(Tell me, what will the girl be like?)

The pandit’s gaze softened. “Bahut hi achhi jodi hogi. The stars show harmony and peace in the future. The girl will be mature enough to bring balance into his life. It also shows a happily married life, the kind that will not break no matter how many storms come their way.”

(It will be a very good match. The stars show harmony and peace in the future. The girl will be mature enough to bring balance into his life. It also shows a happily married life, the kind that will not break no matter how many storms come their way.)

Devika’s heart raced faster. “Kab milenge woh dono?”
(When will they meet?)

The pandit smiled mysteriously. “Mile nahi… mil chuke hain.”

(They haven’t yet to meet… they already have.)

Everyone froze at his words.

“Their paths have already crossed once,” the pandit continued, his voice low and assured, “and they will cross again. This time, they will not part until they are one.”

He placed the kundali on the table, his eyes lifting as if seeing something far beyond the room. His voice grew softer, almost poetic.

“Uss ladki ke aane se, Rudransh ke jeevan mein ek aisa prakash phailne wala hai jo andheron ko chhupakar nahi, balki unhein samet kar roshni banayega.”
(With the arrival of that girl, a light will spread in Rudransh’s life—not one that hides the darkness, but one that gathers it and turns it into brightness.)

Devika clutched the edge of her seat, listening breathlessly.

“Dono apni-apni kahaniyon  lekar aayenge,” the pandit went on, “par jahan do tukde judte hain, wahan ek nayi tasveer banti hai. Waise hi unka saath ek nayi duniya banayega.”

(Both will come carrying their own stories, but where two broken pieces meet, a new picture is formed. In the same way, their union will create a new world.)

Veerraj frowned slightly, but even he leaned closer as if drawn by the rhythm of the pandit’s words.

“They will be like fire—at times burning each other, at times lighting each other. Storms will come, tempests will rage…” the pandit paused as a sudden rumble of thunder echoed outside, making everyone glance toward the window. The air grew heavier, as if the sky itself was listening to him. He looked back at them, his voice firm and unwavering. “…but a bond woven by the stars of destiny cannot be broken.”

For a long moment, silence filled the room. Devika’s eyes shone with tears she didn’t realize she had been holding back. Yuvraaj shifted uncomfortably, though even he seemed touched. Veerraj cleared his throat, but his voice failed him.

The pandit finally looked back at Devika. His voice softened once more.

“Woh sirf Rudransh ki patni nahi hogi, uske jeevan ki saanjh bhi hogi. Uski kathinayi bhi, uski aasha bhi.”

(She will not just be Rudransh’s wife, but the evening light of his life—his hardship and his hope together.)

With that, he closed the kundali, leaving the air charged with an unspoken promise.

Devika’s eyes lingered on the pandit, but her heart was already racing ahead—towards that unseen girl who held the power to change everything.

And somewhere far from the walls of this house… destiny had already begun to weave its threads.

The city was restless that evening. Cars honked impatiently, bikes weaved recklessly between lanes, and the red glow of a traffic signal painted the road in a crimson haze. Amidst the noise and rush, a man sat behind the wheel of his black SUV—Rudransh. His sharp gaze was fixed ahead, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere, heavy and unshaken, like the storm clouds gathering above.

Just a few vehicles away, on the opposite side of the crossing, a girl adjusted the dupatta around her shoulders as she waited on her scooter. The first droplets of rain splashed against her skin. She tilted her face up toward the sky, eyes closing for a fleeting second, as if welcoming the storm.

Unaware of each other, bound by the same pause of a red light, they both sat still in the chaos—two strangers in traffic, their worlds inches apart.

Their story was about to begin.

***

The honks were blaring around her. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry for some unknown reason. A raindrop fell on her cheek, and she instinctively looked up.

The clouds were dark, yet they held a strange kind of beauty that she couldn’t help but admire. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh, cool scent of the air. Despite the chaos around her, there was something calming in the weather.

Office workers, exhausted from their 9-to-5 grind, were desperate to reach home and rest after a tiring day. Avni was no exception. Yet, traffic ahead had come to a standstill due to some unforeseen issues.

Avni exhaled deeply, her peaceful mood constantly disturbed by the relentless honks.
"Bahi, jaldi saaf karo, yeh traffic enjoy bhi nahi karne dete," she muttered irritably, thinking how she would have been sitting peacefully at home, enjoying the weather if she weren’t stuck here.
(“Brother, clear this traffic quickly, it doesn’t even let you enjoy the weather.”)

Avni wasn’t always the bold type. She was mature and composed, traits that showed clearly in her demeanor. But being mature in mind didn’t mean she had lost her childish heart—the part of her that still dreamed of fairy tales and found joy in the smallest things.

She was one of those rare people who could balance maturity with freedom. She celebrated little wins, sometimes quietly, without expressing it much to anyone. At heart, she was just a girl with dreams. She wasn’t overly bubbly, but she had a childlike personality—laughing at jokes, cracking jokes even those that weren’t funny with her close friends. She would blush at a line spoken by a fictional hero, or cry while watching dramas or reading novels.

"Abhi to bahut time lagne wala hai," someone shouted from ahead.
(It’s going to take a long time.)

Akhir kya ho raha hai? Avni wondered, mentally frustrated as she was stuck far back in the traffic.

Before she could even ponder further, rain began pouring out of nowhere.

"Kya yaar," muttered the people on bikes and scooters, clearly irritated.

(Oh man!)

They all scrambled, taking shortcuts, trying to escape the sudden downpour. But Avni… she did nothing. Her hands stayed on the scooter handles, her head tilted back, letting the rain soak her. A quiet smile spread across her lips.

"Gosh… I love rain," she muttered under her breath.

Avni had always been a big fan of the rain. Getting drenched or just sitting beside it as it poured was her favorite escape. To her, it felt like a silent conversation with the world.

A honk broke her reverie. Looking ahead, she saw someone signaling for her to move along. Avni immediately started her scooter, glancing at the retreating crowd.

Should I go too? she wondered.
It wasn’t really a good idea to get completely drenched. But the other route was too far—it would take her hours to reach home.

Her eyes fell on a large tree a little distance away.
“Maybe it can help,” she thought.

She turned her scooter and parked beneath its wide branches.
Not the safest spot in a thunderstorm, she realized. God, don’t kill me now. I’ve just started a novel—let me read it first, then do whatever you want, she silently prayed.

The area wasn’t empty; she was beside a park. She could hear giggles. Peeking from behind the tree, she saw kids playing in the rain, splashing through puddles. A smile tugged at her lips.

She leaned against the tree and watched them. The rain wasn’t something to flee from—it was beautiful after days of oppressive summer heat. The children’s excitement was contagious.

A group of five kids, boys and girls between five and ten, were holding hands, dancing in circles, laughing joyfully.

Avni’s intuition nudged her to join, but her mind hesitated. She was far from home, and getting soaked didn’t sound like the smartest idea. But… dil hai ki manta nahi, she told herself.

(The heart refuses to listen.)

She let her hand drift from the tree, feeling the rain fall onto her palm. Another smile appeared on her face.

"Di, aajao!" a voice called.

(Sister, come here!)

Avni turned to see one of the girls, probably eight years old.

"Dekho kitna maza aa raha hai!" the girl shouted, jumping in the now waterlogged grass.

(Look how much fun this is!)

"Aa bhi jao," all the kids chimed together, encouraging her.

(Come join us!)

Avni couldn’t resist. A wide grin spread across her face as she ran toward them, abandoning all hesitation. She didn’t care about being drenched anymore.

As she reached the group, they formed a circle, holding hands. Avni joined in, jumping along with them, feeling like a child herself.

The kids began showing off dance moves they had learned from TV—robot moves, slow-motion walks, hip hop. They pointed at Avni, inviting her to show a talent.

"I don’t know any," she said shyly.

“That’s cheating!” the kids exclaimed.

"You won’t like what I know," she teased.

“We’ll know after you do!” the girl insisted.

"Khushi ki tara baat karti ho tum," Avni said, gently pulling the girl’s cheek.

(You talk just like Khushi.)

Laughter and splashes filled the air, blending with the rhythm of the rain. In that moment, Avni felt free, alive, and completely herself.

"Kon Khushi?" the girl asked, tilting her head curiously.

(Who’s Khushi?)

"Meri sister," Avni replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

(My sister.)

"Acha, ab karo bhi!" the kids urged her excitedly.

(Alright, now do it!)

"Music to laga lo," Avni said, laughing softly.

(Play some music!)

She dashed to her scooter where she had left her phone. Fingers trembling slightly with anticipation, she pressed play. Aajja Nach Lai Nach Lai Mare Yaar Tu Nach Lai blared through the speaker, its energetic beat echoing in the rainy street.

Avni wasn’t usually bold, but today felt different. With no one around except the kids, and a few cars passing by, lost in their own worlds, she let herself go. She began to dance, her movements hesitant at first, then gradually confident.

She was a fan of dance, though her shy, mature side rarely allowed her to indulge. Today, drenched in rain, her red ankarkali clinging to her frame, her hair loose and dripping, and her dupatta tied casually to her side, she felt free. Memories of carefree days flooded her—the times when she danced without worry, laughed without restraint, and lived fully in the moment.

"Don't laugh , otherwise I’ll stop!" she warned playfully, raising a hand toward the children.

The kids promised, their eyes wide with excitement. Avni’s smile widened as she slowly found her rhythm. Soon, the children joined in, clumsy but laughing, their hands waving and feet stomping through puddles. The group moved together like one, spinning and twirling under the rain, lost in a shared, magical moment.

"Koi tum logo ko dekhega, bolenge ladki ne bigaad diya bachon ko!" Avni said, slapping her forehead with mock frustration as the kids performed tiny thumkas to the beat.

(Someone will see you all and say the girl spoiled  kids!)

The children laughed even harder, splashing water everywhere, completely absorbed in the dance. Avni’s heart lifted with joy—she had almost forgotten the world beyond this rainy street.

As the song neared its end, Avni started to turn, ready to change the music for the next track. But before she could complete her movement, she collided with someone.

Her foot slipped on the wet grass. Time seemed to slow as she felt herself falling. Panic surged, but a strong hand caught her wrist just in time. Pulling her back other hand gripped her waist, steadying her as her heart raced.

Her breath hitched. Not from the fall, but from the man holding her. Her eyes met his.

Gosh… how handsome… she thought, her mind frozen for a heartbeat.

His hand reached again.

What is he doing? Avni asked herself, heart hammering in her chest.

He brushed the drenched strands of hair from her face. Avni should have pulled away—but for some reason, she didn’t. His fingers tucked a wet lock behind her ear, his gaze warm and intense.

"You—" he began, but before he could finish, a gunshot tore through the air.

A bullet whizzed past her ear, striking the guy in the chest.

Avni’s eyes widened as his hands slipped from hers. He fell backward, rain mixing with the blood streaming down his chest. Panic gripped her as she scanned the street. A black car sped away, its window closing, the shooter disappearing into the downpour.

Adrenaline surged. Her hands shook as she knelt beside him. What do I do? How do I stop the bleeding? Her mind screamed for answers.

In that moment, the world shrank to the two of them—the rain, the puddles,the kids, and the terrible stillness of the danger surrounding them.

The rain poured harder, drenching her completely, her hair plastered to her face. Her hands pressed to his chest, trying desperately to slow the bleeding. The world blurred around her, leaving only this—her, him, and the storm that seemed to echo the chaos of her heartbeat.

I should call an ambulance, Avni thought, her hands trembling as she was about to get up and reach for her phone.

But then, she felt a gentle tug on her hand.

She looked down and froze. He was holding her hand—both their palms sticky with blood, the rain washing it away in rivulets. The storm seemed to fade around them, leaving only the warmth of that small, trembling connection.

Her eyes met his, half-closed and glazed with pain. Every heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears.

He tried to speak, a barely audible rasp escaping his lips.

Avni narrowed her eyes, straining to hear.

“Pastel girl…” he murmured, his voice fading as he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

Avni’s breath caught. Her chest tightened, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

***

Pandit was about to leave, and Devika had started to follow him toward the door. Her steps were hesitant, as if each movement betrayed the storm of worry inside her.

"Aap chinta mat kijiye, Devika ji," Pandit ji said, his voice calm but firm, trying to reassure her.
(Don’t worry, Devika.)

Devika stopped mid-step, turning to him, her eyes wide and brimming with fear. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of her shawl.

"Kaise na karo, Pandit ji? Aapny itni badi khushi dene ke baad itna bada shock de diya! Agar woh usse nahi bacha paayi toh…" she asked, her voice breaking, a mixture of panic and helplessness.

(How can I not worry, Pandit? After giving  such a huge happiness, you gave this huge shock! If she couldn’t save him…)

Pandit ji’s gaze softened, but his voice was unwavering.

" Uske bina bachaye, woh bachyega bhi nahi," he said, his words deliberate, carrying weight and certainty.

(Without her saving him, he wouldn’t survive.)

Author note: How was it?