His pov

I find myself grappling with the deception of concealing my love for her and the challenging act of pretending not to notice her. Each time she indulges in reading, a captivating glow permeates her eyes, exuding a profound enchantment. If only she could understand the unfathomable beauty that she possesses. It seems unjust that she perceives me solely through the written word, while I am privileged to admire her grace from a distance. Our encounter feels like more than mere chance, as she singled out my book from a myriad of romantic narratives. If only I could summon the courage to express my love for her, to reach out and feel the warmth of her touch. However, I find myself stationed in this solitary longing, consumed by an unspoken desire for her, enveloped in silent anguish.

It's peculiar how my emotions compel me to stay away from her, yet I find myself yearning for her more than ever. Since the day she walked into my life, she has etched herself deeply into my heart, breaking through every barrier I tried to build. Every single day, I find myself sending fervent prayers to the heavens, hoping that she will grace the office with her presence. Yash Agnihotri used to be a man who shunned love ever since his devastating heartbreak in college. They say that heartbreak is one of the hardest things to bear.

They were right.

Never in my life, had I expected a day like this where I was sitting down in my room on the floor beside the French doors of the balcony, staring at the moon and wondering if she was having the same perplexed emotions that I was holding. I never expected a day when I'd feel the urge to fall in love again. Desperately, insanely and passionately.

I had never expected that she would become another reason for my living.

Rudra said that I was falling in love with her. I am not sure.

Whenever he inquired about my feelings for her, I always evaded a direct response. Nonetheless, he persisted in his gentle probing, wearing a small smile and offering a reassuring pat on my shoulder. The persistence of his questioning has left me feeling increasingly perplexed. As I reflect on his inquiries, I realize that there are indeed uncertain and unusual emotions stirring within my heart.

I long to listen to her voice every morning, I long to see her face first every morning I wake up. Only I know how hasty I turn every dawn and get ready with the best of outfit in my closet. I started thinking about which perfume should I apply to get her compliment. I started thinking of her every day and night, every minute and every moment. I started reading books because she likes it. I remember I asked Mira for help because she is a writer as well.

The elegant words penned on the paper captivate her heart, and I constantly strive to compose a piece for her. Despite my best attempts, these words get caught in my throat. Despite my deep-seated insecurities, her mere presence has the power to dispel them all, leaving me with an uncontrollable smile. I hadn't realized it until now, but my phone's gallery is now replete with her captivating social media pictures, as well as the clandestine snapshots that I have taken of her.

Thousands of pictures are residing in my laptop. She became the lock-screen and home-screen wallpapers of my phone. Each and every moment that we have spent together is written down in my diary just like how I pen down important events and meetings.

Earlier, my diary used to be heavy with the dates and details of office meetings or events. However, it has now transformed into a vessel for my deepest thoughts and feelings for her. Each page is adorned with a narrative of our shared experiences, capturing every fleeting moment in brief detail.

Though I said fleeting, each memory is tattooed on my soul. And will always be.

I used to scoff at the idea of falling in love and getting married, dismissing it as unrealistic and cringeworthy. However, my attitude gradually shifted when I found myself becoming deeply attached to her. Love used to seem insignificant and not worth pursuing, but everything changed when I met Rudra and Mira.

Their beautiful love story unfolded most unexpectedly. It all began with a serendipitous encounter at a cosy cafe in Delhi, an accidental meeting. Barely sharing 10 fleeting minutes together, he sensed deep within his heart that she was going to be the one he'd fall head over heels in love with. Over the course of four years, he consistently demonstrated his unwavering love for her. What made their love story even more remarkable was that it was reciprocated, and it reached new heights during Shanaya's wedding, leaving them both in awe of the strength and depth of their love. And I was their very first supporter.

Mira pointed out that how I always get their unsaid words yet I'm struggling to understand my own uncertainty. And maybe it was true. I started trying to know what love is, how does it feel and what happens further. Their story was surely an impactful chapter of my life which was briefly described later on as I discovered my feelings for her.

Shruti Singh.

The lady now owned every single thought inside my brain, every prayer I do, and motivation behind every will and emotion.

"What have you done to me, Ms Singh?" I mumbled, looking down on my wrist where a thin golden bracelet was shining. The gift she had given to me on my birthday. The thought of confessing to her knocked again and again, making me consider the idea. I somehow am uncertain about my feelings for her but I am profoundly certain that she's the one.

For sure.

Cause' I know why am I confused. I don't know whether she reciprocates the same emotions or not. Would she also be thinking the same thing that is in my mind at this moment? Is there a storm of these things in her heart too?

"Do you feel the same?"