Shailaza's Blog

Category: New Novel by Shailaza Singh

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Seventy Two: The Wedding Madness

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Seventy Two: The Wedding Madness

    After the overwhelming response from friends, family, and coworkers, Astha was more determined than ever to take matters into her own hands. A quiet wedding, just as she wanted, was the only way forward.

    “We need to run away,” she announced one evening as she and Arin sat on her balcony.

    Arin smiled. “Eloping? That sounds scandalous, Mrs. Verma.”

    Astha shot him a look. “I am not Mrs. Verma. Not yet. And if this madness continues, I never will be.”

    He chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “Alright, alright. What’s the plan?”

    She leaned her head against his shoulder, thinking. “Something simple. Just us, Shanaya, my parents, maybe two witnesses at the most. Somewhere peaceful. No rituals, no extravagant outfits, no overenthusiastic wedding planners forcing me to wear gold jewelry the size of a chandelier.”

    Arin laughed, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Fine. No chandelier jewelry. Just you, me, and

    our closest people. Where do you want to do it?”

    Astha thought for a moment, then smiled. “Udaipur.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “The place where I fell hopelessly in love with you?”

    She rolled her eyes. “Where I realized you’re not as insufferable as I initially thought.”

    He chuckled. “Same thing.”

    She sighed dramatically. “Alright, hopeless romantic. Let’s get married in Udaipur.”

    Operation: The Great Escape

    The next day, Astha carefully broke the plan to Shanaya, expecting resistance. Instead, her daughter’s eyes lit up.

    “Wait… we’re actually running away?” Shanaya grinned mischievously. “This is the best thing you’ve ever done, Mom.”

    Astha narrowed her eyes. “I prefer to call it strategic planning.”

    “Uh-huh. And does Nana and Nani know?”

    Astha sighed. “We’ll tell them tonight.”

    As expected, her parents were supportive, though her mother insisted on at least some traditional elements. “No matter how small this wedding is, beta, you need to wear something special.”

    Astha groaned. “I knew this was coming.”

    Her father chuckled. “You can run from the big wedding, but you can’t escape your mother.”

    Arin smiled. “Sounds like I should prepare for battle.”

    Astha’s mother looked at him approvingly. “Good boy. Now, let’s talk about wedding attire.”

    Astha sighed in defeat while Arin simply held her hand under the table, squeezing it reassuringly.

    The Escape Begins

    Two nights before the supposed grand wedding everyone expected, Astha and Arin, along with Shanaya and her parents, quietly packed their bags and left for Udaipur. The plan was simple—arrive, get the legal paperwork done, find a small place by the lake, and exchange vows.

    As they sat in the car, Shanaya looked at Arin. “So, technically, you’re kidnapping my mother. Should I be concerned?”

    Arin smiled. “Aren’t you my accomplice in this?”

    Shanaya grinned. “Fair point.”

    Astha sighed. “I am regretting this already.”

    Arin leaned in and whispered, “No, you’re not.”

    She turned to glare at him, only to find him looking at her with that look—the one that always managed to undo her.

    She sighed. “Fine. But if anything goes wrong, I will actually run away.”

    Arin laughed, squeezing her hand. “Noted.”

    The Wedding by the Lake

    The morning of the wedding was calm, unlike the chaos they had left behind. The sun shimmered over the still waters of Lake Pichola as Astha stepped out in a simple ivory saree, her mother’s choice. Her father held her hand briefly before passing it to Arin.

    “You better take care of my daughter, beta,” he said gruffly.

    Arin met his gaze steadily. “With my life.”

    As they stood together in front of the officiant, Shanaya dramatically wiped fake tears. “This is so beautiful. My poor mother, finally getting married.”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “Shanaya, hush.”

    Arin smiled. “Let her have her moment.”

    Astha turned back to him, her heart swelling as she met his gaze. “I can’t believe we actually did this.”

    He took her hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Believe it, wife.”

    And as they exchanged their vows under the golden hues of the Udaipur sky, Astha realized—this was exactly how it was meant to be.

    Just them. No grand spectacle.

    No chaos.

    Just love.

    THE END

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Seventy One: A Question of Forever

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Seventy One: A Question of Forever

    Arin had always known that Astha was stubborn, but he had assumed—perhaps foolishly—that with time, she would accept the inevitable. That she would see what he saw, that they were meant to belong to each other in every world, in every way. But she had held onto her stance, refusing to acknowledge what he so desperately wanted.

    One evening, as they sat on her balcony, watching the city lights flicker below them, he decided it was time to confront her.

    “Astha,” he said, his voice quieter than usual but firm. “Why don’t you want to marry me in this world?”

    Astha, sipping on her tea, stilled for a fraction of a second before she placed the cup down. She turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. “Arin, we talked about this. You promised me you’d be okay with it.”

    His fingers curled into fists before he exhaled, forcing himself to remain calm. “I know what I said, but I can’t pretend anymore. I need you, Astha. I need to know that you’re mine, not just in the ways we tell each other, but in the ways the world sees too. I want the world to know that we belong together.”

    She closed her eyes for a brief moment before looking at him again. “In my world, Arin, marriage is different. Everyone expects that a wife must leave her family behind—her parents, her home—to be with her husband. I don’t want to do that. I can’t leave Shanaya or my parents.”

    Arin took her hands in his, squeezing them gently but firmly. “Who is asking you to do that? I love your family like my own. I wouldn’t leave them, so why should you? I want to be with you and them. I want to share my life with all of you, not take you away from them.”

    Astha shook her head, biting her lip. “It’s not just that. I don’t want to change my surname or my identity. Marriage in my world means sacrificing parts of yourself for someone else, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to lose myself, Arin.”

    Arin cupped her face, his thumb tracing soft circles against her cheek. “Astha, I don’t care about names or legal formalities. I don’t care if you change your surname or not. I don’t care about traditions or rules. The only thing that matters to me is you. As long as I can call you mine in front of the world, nothing else matters.”

    Her breath hitched as his eyes bore into hers, intense and unwavering. “You are my miracle, Astha. I don’t want to lose you. I want to stand beside you, with the whole world knowing that we belong to each other.”

    His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against hers. “Marry me, Astha. There is nothing else I need.”

    Astha felt her walls slowly crumbling, the weight of his words wrapping around her heart. She had been so afraid of what marriage meant that she had forgotten what it could be—something built on love, trust, and the life they had created together.

    She exhaled, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. There was none. Only love. Only him.

    “Yes,” she whispered, and his arms immediately wrapped around her, pulling her into a fierce embrace. “But,” she added quickly, pulling back slightly, “no big weddings. No relatives. No jingbang.”

    Arin chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Done. Just you and me.”

    Astha smiled against his chest, finally allowing herself to surrender to the love she had tried so hard to resist.

    Because for the first time, she realized—he wasn’t asking her to lose herself.

    He was asking her to be herself—with him.

    Forever.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Nine: Something Real

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Nine: Something Real

    Morning light streamed through the hospital’s tinted windows, casting a soft glow over the waiting area. Astha stirred, shifting slightly before her eyes fluttered open. A familiar warmth rested over her shoulders. She blinked, looking down to find a blanket draped around her.

    Arin’s doing.

    She turned her head and found him sitting beside her, his eyes closed, his posture relaxed but alert even in rest. He had stayed.

    Astha swallowed, something tugging at her chest, but she quickly shook it off. Carefully, she adjusted the blanket and sat up, stretching. The quiet hum of hospital activity around her signaled the start of a new day.

    Moments later, a nurse approached. “Mrs. Mehra is being discharged. The doctor has cleared her to go home.”

    Relief flooded Astha, and she nodded. “Thank you.”

    She turned to Arin, who was now watching her, fully awake. “She’s being discharged,” she said softly.

    Arin nodded. “I’ll get the car.”

    Astha opened her mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes told her it was pointless. He wasn’t going to leave her alone.

    The Drive Home

    The car ride was quiet, with only the soft hum of the engine filling the space between them. Astha sat in the back with her mother, keeping a hand on hers, while Arin focused on the road.

    Every few minutes, his gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, checking on them. He didn’t say much, but Astha didn’t need him to. His presence was enough.

    When they reached home, Astha’s father and Shanaya were already waiting at the doorstep. The moment the car stopped, Shanaya ran forward, her eyes shining with relief as she hugged her grandmother.

    Astha’s father embraced his wife gently, murmuring reassurances, before turning to Arin. Without hesitation, he pulled him into a warm hug.

    “Thank you, beta,” her father said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

    Arin, momentarily taken aback, patted his back. “It’s nothing, Uncle.”

    Astha stood beside them, watching the exchange with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. Her father had always been reserved with strangers, but with Arin, it was as if he had known him for years.

    Her mother was settled into bed with Shanaya fussing over her, making sure she was comfortable. Astha’s father lingered in the room for a while, before finally nodding in satisfaction and stepping out.

    Astha turned to Arin, hands on her hips. “You should go home and rest. You’ve done enough.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “You’re kicking me out now?”

    “Yes,” she said firmly. “You have work, and so do I.”

    He studied her for a moment before smirking. “Alright, Mehra. But if you need anything, call me.”

    “I won’t.”

    “You will.”

    She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest refused to fade as she watched him leave.

    Once the door shut behind him, Astha exhaled and ran a hand through her hair. She walked into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water, but her mind wasn’t on the task. Instead, her thoughts wandered back to Arin.

    The way he had stayed. The way he had silently comforted her when she cried. The way he had made her smile despite the exhaustion weighing her down.

    She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

    Then, shaking her head, she muttered to herself, “Keep personal and professional separate, Astha.”

    Her heart, however, wasn’t so sure.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Seven: Unspoken Realizations

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Seven: Unspoken Realizations

    The next morning, the city of Udaipur awoke in soft hues of gold and amber. Arin and Astha met at the small courtyard of their guesthouse for breakfast. The late-night conversation still lingered in the air between them, an unspoken thread connecting them in a way neither wanted to acknowledge just yet.

    Astha stirred her chai absentmindedly, her usual sharp banter missing. Arin, observant as always, noticed.

    “You’re quieter than usual,” he remarked, sipping his own tea.

    Astha raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you’d enjoy a little peace and quiet after last night’s deep life discussions.”

    Arin smiled. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mehra. I’m just wondering if you’re plotting your next reckless stunt.”

    She rolled her eyes. “Please. Today is strictly work. No chaos, no bus roofs, no lake monsters.”

    Arin feigned disappointment. “Shame. I was starting to enjoy the unpredictability.”

    Astha shook her head, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

    A Day of Work and an Unexpected Invitation

    The morning was spent finalizing their article, going over notes from their interviews. As much as Astha enjoyed fieldwork, she had to admit—Arin had a meticulous way of polishing details that made the final story even sharper.

    “You’re annoyingly good at this,” she muttered, reviewing the latest draft.

    Arin smiled. “I’m going to pretend that’s a compliment.”

    Before she could respond, a knock on the door interrupted them. A young local journalist they had met earlier entered, smiling brightly.

    “Astha, Arin,” he greeted. “A few of us are heading to a friend’s place for an evening gathering by the lake. Lots of music, food, and good company. You should come.”

    Astha hesitated. “I don’t know—”

    “Sounds interesting,” Arin cut in smoothly. He turned to Astha. “Come on, Mehra. We promised no chaos, but a casual evening won’t hurt.”

    She narrowed her eyes. “You just want to see how I behave in social settings, don’t you?”

    Arin grinned. “Absolutely.”

    She sighed. “Fine. But if I regret this, I’m blaming you.”

    Arin raised his chai cup in a mock toast. “Noted.”

    An Evening by the Lake

    By sunset, they arrived at a beautifully lit open-air setup near the lake. String lights hung between trees, reflecting in the still waters. A group of local musicians played traditional Rajasthani folk music, their voices blending with the warm night breeze.

    Astha, dressed in a simple cotton kurta and jeans, looked effortlessly at home among the crowd. She slipped easily into conversations, laughing, listening, debating. Arin watched her from the side, sipping his drink, taking in how different she was outside the confines of the newsroom.

    “You’re staring,” she murmured, nudging him with her elbow.

    Arin didn’t even try to deny it. “Just analyzing.”

    “Analyzing what, exactly?”

    “How someone who keeps everyone at arm’s length in the office fits so effortlessly in a place like this,” he said, tilting his head.

    Astha glanced at the glowing lake. “Maybe because I don’t have to prove anything here.”

    Arin studied her for a moment. “You don’t have to prove anything at work either.”

    She huffed a laugh. “Says the man who keeps pushing me to write better.”

    Arin smiled. “That’s not proving something. That’s just me knowing you can do more than you allow yourself to.”

    Astha looked at him then, something unreadable in her gaze. “You’re dangerous, Verma.”

    He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

    “Because you see too much.”

    Arin chuckled. “And yet, you still let me sit next to you at these things.”

    Astha shook her head, sipping her drink. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to stop analyzing and start enjoying the moment.”

    Arin leaned back, watching the flickering lanterns on the water. “Maybe I already am.”

    A Walk by the Lake

    As the evening winded down, people slowly began to leave. Arin and Astha took a quiet walk along the lake, the gentle waves lapping against the shore.

    “You haven’t regretted coming yet, have you?” Arin asked.

    Astha smiled. “I’ll let you know once I see if I can survive the next few minutes without you dragging me into more philosophical conversations.”

    He chuckled. “I make no promises.”

    They walked in silence for a moment before Astha exhaled. “You know, this trip has been… different.”

    Arin glanced at her. “Different how?”

    She shrugged. “I’m used to keeping my work life and personal life separate. This… blurs the lines a little.”

    Arin nodded. “Maybe blurring the lines isn’t always a bad thing.”

    Astha gave him a look. “For you, maybe. But I have a teenage daughter, protective parents, and a job that keeps me grounded. I don’t have the luxury of just… being reckless all the time.”

    Arin’s gaze softened. “But sometimes, you want to be.”

    She exhaled a quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

    They reached a small stone bench near the water. Arin sat down, and after a moment’s hesitation, Astha joined him. The night stretched on in comfortable silence.

    Then, in a softer voice, Arin said, “You should let more people see this side of you.”

    Astha turned to him. “Why?”

    “Because it’s real,” he said simply. “And it’s worth knowing.”

    Astha held his gaze, something shifting in the space between them.

    And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t try to run from it.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Six: The Unseen Trouble

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Six: The Unseen Trouble

    The boat ride was peaceful, the kind of night that seemed frozen in time. The lake shimmered under the moonlight, and the occasional flicker of lanterns from the distant palaces added a golden hue to the water’s surface.

    Astha leaned back slightly, letting the cool air kiss her face. “You know, I have to say, Verma, you’re handling this trip pretty well. I half-expected you to demand a five-star conference room for our interviews.”

    Arin smiled, resting his arm casually on the side of the boat. “Well, I was going to, but then I got distracted by all the bus roofs and stolen guavas.”

    Astha chuckled. “See? Chaos suits you.”

    “Or maybe,” Arin said, studying her, “you just make chaos look appealing.”

    She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. For a moment, there was something there—something neither of them wanted to name. But before either of them could say another word—

    The boat jerked.

    Astha let out a small yelp as she grabbed onto the side for balance. Arin’s reflexes were quicker—he reached out instinctively, his hand gripping her wrist before she could tip forward.

    “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lower, more serious.

    Astha let out a breath. “Yeah. But that wasn’t normal.”

    The boatman frowned, adjusting his oar. “Something’s caught on the rudder. Hold on.”

    Arin still hadn’t let go of her wrist. Astha noticed but didn’t say anything. Instead, without realizing it, she leaned slightly into his presence, as if seeking reassurance.

    A moment later, a loud splash sounded behind them. Then another.

    Astha tensed. “Okay, Verma. Time to admit that this isn’t part of my ‘chaotic adventure plan.’”

    “Duly noted,” he muttered.

    Then, without warning, something hit the boat from underneath. Hard.

    Astha lost her balance completely, toppling forward. But before she could fall, Arin caught her—both arms securing her against his chest as the boat rocked violently.

    The boatman cursed under his breath, struggling to steady them. “We need to turn back—something isn’t right.”

    Arin’s grip on her tightened instinctively. “Stay close,” he murmured.

    Astha nodded, her fingers curling lightly around his forearm. Normally, she would have made a joke, something to deflect. But at that moment, she didn’t.

    Another thud from beneath.

    The boatman didn’t wait for another warning—he began rowing back toward the dock as fast as he could.

    Astha exhaled shakily. “I don’t know what the hell that was, but I’m officially putting boat rides on my banned activities list.”

    Arin, still holding onto her, leaned back slightly. “Noted. Also, for the record, I told you cars were the better option.”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “If you say ‘I told you so’ one more time, I’ll personally throw you into the lake.”

    Arin smiled. “Noted.”

    Back on Land

    When they reached the dock, the boatman was still shaken.

    “I’ve been doing this for years,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Never seen anything like that.”

    Astha glanced at Arin, a silent question in her eyes. He said nothing, but his jaw was tight, as if he was thinking too much.

    “Let’s go,” he finally said. “I don’t think either of us wants to linger here tonight.”

    Astha nodded, and without another word, they walked back toward their guesthouse.

    The Late-Night Conversation

    That night, when a knock sounded at her door, Astha wasn’t surprised to find Arin standing there.

    “I can’t sleep,” he admitted.

    Astha smiled. “The mighty Arin Verma can’t sleep? What, did the lake monster give you nightmares?”

    He gave her an unimpressed look. “I just… wanted to check if you’re okay.”

    Astha studied him for a moment before stepping aside. “Come in, then. But if you start lecturing me about my life choices, I’m kicking you out.”

    He smiled. “Noted.”

    As he sat on the chair by the window, he asked, “Does anyone at the office know this side of you?”

    Astha raised an eyebrow. “What side?”

    “The side that sits on top of buses, steals fruit, and nearly gets swallowed by lakes,” he said, amusement laced in his voice.

    Astha shrugged. “Not really. At work, I’m just a journalist. No one really cares about my adventurous streak.”

    Arin tilted his head. “I do.”

    Astha paused at that. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it. Instead, she smiled faintly. “Good to know, Verma.”

    Arin leaned forward slightly. “Why are you so reserved in the office? You’re a fun person to be with.”

    Astha let out a small laugh. “Office is different. Work is work. If you’re too friendly, people stop taking you seriously. And sometimes, it’s easier to keep a distance than to deal with unnecessary drama.”

    Arin watched her carefully. “But that’s not who you really are.”

    She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Maybe. But we all have different sides, don’t we?”

    Arin held her gaze for a moment longer before exhaling. “Get some sleep, Mehra.”

    As he left, Astha lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She didn’t know why his words affected her so much. But one thing was certain—this trip was changing something between them.

    And she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Five: The Midnight Boat Ride

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Five: The Midnight Boat Ride

    After finishing their interview, Astha stretched and checked her watch. “Alright, Verma. The work part of the trip is officially over.”

    Arin eyed her suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re about to drag me into something questionable?”

    Astha grinned. “Because you, my dear editor, are finally going to see Udaipur the way it’s meant to be seen.”

    He sighed. “Which means?”

    “Which means,” she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along, “you’re going on a midnight boat ride.”

    Arin frowned but let her lead him toward the lakeside. “You do realize I don’t do impulsive tourist things?”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re about to.”

    The night air was crisp, and the city shimmered in reflection over Lake Pichola. The boat swayed gently as Astha leaned over the railing, looking out at the illuminated palaces across the water.

    Arin sat beside her, watching instead her instead of the view.

    “You do this often?” he asked.

    “Whenever I need to remind myself that life is more than just work and responsibilities,” she admitted. “The world keeps moving, but sometimes, you just need to stop and breathe.”

    Arin tilted his head, considering her words. “That’s… surprisingly wise.”

    Astha smiled. “I have my moments.”

    For a moment, there was only silence, the soft lapping of water against the boat filling the space between them.

    Then Astha turned to him, grinning mischievously. “So, Verma, admit it. This whole trip? Not the worst experience of your life.”

    Arin exhaled, shaking his head. “Fine. Not the worst.”

    She gasped dramatically. “A compliment? From you? I must be dreaming!”

    Arin smiled. “Don’t get used to it.”

    Astha laughed, and as the boat drifted further into the lake, Arin realized something unsettling.

    For the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind not knowing what came next.

    And that was terrifying.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Three: In Udaipur

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Three: In Udaipur

    The next morning, Arin woke up to the distant sound of temple bells and the soft murmurs of life awakening in Udaipur. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh flowers and the faint aroma of masala chai brewing somewhere nearby.

    For a brief moment, he allowed himself to simply be. No deadlines, no reports, no expectations—just the gentle morning light filtering through the carved windows of the heritage guesthouse.

    Then a sharp knock interrupted his peace.

    “Verma, wake up! We have work to do!” Astha’s voice rang through the wooden door.

    Arin sighed, running a hand through his hair before opening the door. Astha stood there, already dressed in her usual jeans and t-shirt, her hair slightly damp from a shower. She held two cups of chai, thrusting one into his hands.

    “Drink up. We have a long day ahead,” she said, taking a sip from her own cup.

    Arin leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “I see you didn’t trust me to wake up on my own.”

    Astha smiled. “I trust you. I just don’t trust your idea of ‘early.’ Now hurry up. We have an interview scheduled in an hour.”

    As he closed the door, Arin exhaled slowly. Astha had no idea who he really was. No idea what he had given up to be here.

    And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted her to find out.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Two: Udaipur Awaits

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty Two: Udaipur Awaits

    As the bus continued its journey through the winding roads of Rajasthan, the air grew cooler, carrying the scent of earth and dried leaves. The sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the landscape.

    Arin stretched his legs, adjusting his position on the roof of the bus. “So, are we actually going to work at some point, or is this entire trip just your excuse to give me an ‘authentic’ Indian adventure?”

    Astha smiled. “Oh, we’ll work, Verma. But tell me, when was the last time you did something without planning every little detail?”

    Arin thought for a moment. His life had always been structured, dictated by duty, logic, and control. But here, sitting on the roof of a moving bus with the wind rushing past him and Astha teasing him every step of the way, he realized that for the first time, he had no clear plan—and oddly enough, he didn’t mind.

    “Fine,” he admitted. “Maybe spontaneity isn’t all bad.”

    Astha grinned. “See? That’s the spirit.”

    They rode in comfortable silence for a while, until Astha pulled a stolen guava from her bag and took a bite. She handed it to Arin without thinking.

    He looked at it, then at her. “You stole this?”

    “I borrowed it permanently,” she corrected, giving him a pointed look.

    Arin chuckled and took a tentative bite. The tangy sweetness surprised him.

    “Not bad,” he admitted.

    Astha grinned. “Told you. You should trust me more often.”

    Arin shook his head, but he was smiling.

    Arrival in Udaipur

    The bus finally pulled into Udaipur’s bustling station as twilight settled over the city. The lake shimmered under the fading sunlight, the old palaces glowing with warm yellow lights.

    Astha stretched as she hopped down from the roof, brushing dust off her jeans. “Welcome to Udaipur, Verma.”

    Arin landed beside her, shaking his head at the absurdity of their arrival. “So, where are we staying?”

    Astha grinned. “I booked us a heritage guesthouse near the lake. You’ll love it. Very traditional, very royal—probably the kind of place you do belong in.”

    Arin smiled. “You mean one with actual walls and a bed? I already love it more than the bus roof.”

    They hailed an auto-rickshaw, and soon, they arrived at a charming haveli-style guesthouse with intricate carvings and courtyards filled with fairy lights. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air.

    Arin took it all in, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, Mehra.”

    “See? I take care of my travel partners,” she said smugly.

    The receptionist greeted them warmly. “Sir, ma’am, your rooms are ready.”

    Before Arin could say anything, Astha interjected, “Two rooms. Separate rooms.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow, amused. “Were you afraid I was going to insist on sharing?”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “I just don’t want you complaining about how I keep odd hours.”

    Arin smiled. “Fair enough.”

    As they headed to their rooms, Astha called over her shoulder. “Get some rest, Verma. Tomorrow, we actually work.”

    Arin watched her disappear into her room and let out a breath.

    He had no idea what the next day would bring, but one thing was certain—working with Astha was never just work.

    And for once, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a very dangerous one.

  • THE TIME TRAVELER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty One: The Journey Begins

    THE TIME TRAVELER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty One: The Journey Begins

    The bus rattled along the highway, the golden desert stretching out far beyond the road. The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over everything.

    Arin sat beside Astha, but his eyes weren’t on the landscape. They were on her.

    She was different here—untamed, free, almost unrecognizable from the composed, sharp-witted woman he knew at work. Her hair danced in the wind, the loose strands flying against her face. But she didn’t seem to care. If anything, she leaned into the wind, welcoming the chaos of it.

    Every now and then, she would stretch out her hand, plucking leaves from trees as they passed by, sometimes even grabbing a small guava or tamarind pod, much to the amusement of the other passengers. She grinned, her eyes alight with a mischief that made Arin smile despite himself.

    He had never seen her like this before.

    “So,” he asked, finally breaking his silence. “Does Shanaya like to travel this way too?”

    Astha made a face. “Please. She’s Miss Prim and Proper. This”—she gestured around—“is beneath her standards of travel.”

    Arin smiled. “And your parents? They’re okay with you climbing onto buses like this?”

    She snorted. “Of course not. They don’t even let Shanaya sit by the window in a regular bus. Safety first, always.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are?”

    She flashed him a teasing grin. “Because I don’t listen to them.”

    Arin chuckled. “I should’ve guessed.”

    Astha turned to him, resting her elbow on her knee as she regarded him thoughtfully. “You know, you surprise me, Verma.”

    “Oh?” He tilted his head. “How so?”

    “You don’t belong here,” she said, waving a hand at their surroundings. “Yet, you’re handling this whole situation with surprising grace. I expected you to be miserable by now.”

    Arin smiled. “Oh, I am miserable. But I’m also entertained.”

    Astha grinned. “Good. You should be.”

    For a moment, there was silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy. The kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

    A sudden gust of wind sent a few leaves scattering around them. One got stuck in Astha’s hair. Arin reached out instinctively, plucking it away before she could notice.

    She looked at him, surprised, but said nothing.

    Arin simply leaned back and looked at the setting sun. “So, what’s the story we’re covering in Udaipur?”

    Astha’s lips curled into a smirk. “Why? Afraid I’ll drag you into another unexpected adventure?”

    Arin sighed. “At this point, I’m prepared for anything.”

    Astha laughed, the sound blending with the wind. “That’s the spirit.”

    As the bus continued down the dusty road, Arin found himself thinking that maybe—just maybe—this kind of chaos wasn’t so bad after all.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Seven: The Party And The Bet

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Seven: The Party And The Bet

    The yearly office party was one of those events where people let their guards down, traded in their usual professional facades for a night of laughter, networking, and a little too much alcohol. Invitations had already gone out, and as expected, Arin received his. He wasn’t particularly interested in parties, but he knew it was an important occasion for the team.

    Before leaving for the night, he made one last attempt to convince Astha.

    “You should come to the party,” Arin said, leaning against her desk as she shut down her computer.

    Astha didn’t even look up. “No.”

    Arin smiled. “That was fast.”

    “I don’t like parties,” she stated simply, gathering her things. “Loud music, forced socializing, and a bunch of drunk people making fools of themselves? Not my scene.”

    Arin chuckled. “You make it sound so tragic. It’s just a party, Mehra. It won’t kill you to have a little fun.”

    “I am having fun.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and gave him a pointed look. “At home. With a book. And silence.”

    Arin sighed dramatically. “So that’s it? No convincing you?”

    Astha gave him a flat look. “Don’t ask me again.”

    Arin raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your thrilling evening of solitude.”

    With that, she walked off, leaving him shaking his head.

    At the party, the energy was high. The office had gone all out—decorations, catering, music, and an open bar. People were laughing, clinking glasses, and letting loose. A couple of women approached Arin, trying to strike up a flirtatious conversation, but he politely deflected. His mind was elsewhere.

    He was sipping his drink, scanning the room absently, when he caught an overheard conversation that made him pause.

    Anil, one of the sales guys, was speaking in a hushed tone to his colleague Nikhil, both of them leaning near the bar.

    “Astha Mehra  looks good, no doubt,” Anil said with a smirk. “But she’s a total cougar ice queen.”

    Nikhil laughed. “Yeah, man. No one’s cracked her yet. That’s why we started a bet.”

    Arin’s grip tightened on his glass.

    Anil smiled. “Ten thousand bucks to whoever thaws the ice queen first. Shubham even offered her some money, but she refused.”

    Nikhil let out a low whistle. “Damn. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

    Arin had heard enough.

    He turned toward them, his usual calm replaced by a simmering coldness. “You two must really enjoy degrading women in your free time.”

    Anil and Nikhil stiffened at the unexpected confrontation. “Relax, Verma,” Anil said with an awkward chuckle. “It’s just a harmless bet.”

    “Harmless?” Arin’s voice was low, controlled, but laced with steel. “You’re putting a price on a woman’s dignity and calling it harmless?”

    Nikhil scoffed. “You don’t have to be so serious about it. It’s just a game.”

    Arin’s expression darkened. “A game where you treat a colleague like a conquest? A bet where a woman’s self-respect is just a joke to you?” He stepped closer, his tone like quiet thunder. “You think a woman rejecting you makes her an ice queen? Or does it just bruise your ego?”

    Neither man had an answer.

    “I suggest you rethink the way you speak about people—especially about women who have done nothing to deserve this kind of nonsense.” Arin’s voice was deadly calm, but his eyes held a quiet warning. “And if I hear either of you discussing anything like this again, I’ll make sure HR knows exactly what kind of ‘harmless fun’ you’ve been up to.”

    The men exchanged nervous glances before mumbling something and walking away, their bravado deflated.

    Arin exhaled slowly, shaking his head. He had come here out of obligation, but now he understood why Astha never attended these events.

    This wasn’t her world.

    And as he thought about her sitting peacefully on her balcony, lost in her own world of books and silence, something shifted inside him. He felt protective of her, in a way he hadn’t expected.

    Setting his drink down, Arin left the room without a word. He had better places to be.

    When Arin returned home, he stepped out onto his balcony, hoping the cool air would clear his thoughts. Across from him, Astha and Shanaya were gathered around a small barbecue, the warm glow flickering between them as they laughed.

    They spotted him, and Shanaya waved excitedly. “Arin! Come try our amazing barbecue.”

    He hesitated before walking over. Astha handed him a paneer skewer. “Veg barbecue,” she declared proudly.

    Arin took a bite, nodding. “It’s good.”

    Astha smiled, turning to Shanaya. “See? People like my veg barbecue.”

    Shanaya rolled her eyes. “There is no such thing as a veg barbecue, Mom.”

    Astha placed her hands on her hips. “I won’t allow non-veg in my house.”

    Shanaya sighed dramatically, turning to Arin. “Can you believe this? She’s the only vegetarian in the house, yet she makes all the rules.”

    Astha crossed her arms. “My house, my rules.”

    Shanaya grinned. “Wait till Grandpa comes over. He and I are going to have a real barbecue right here.”

    They kept bantering, throwing playful jabs at each other, and Arin found himself chuckling. The warmth, the teasing, the sheer comfort of the moment—it was a stark contrast to the forced pleasantries of the party.

    He realized, right then, that he enjoyed this much more than any loud, crowded gathering. Watching Astha and Shanaya laugh, feeling the easy camaraderie, he understood something important.

    This was the world he wanted to be a part of.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Six: Game On

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Six: Game On

    The following morning, Arin arrived at the office to find Astha already at her desk, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She looked calm, composed—but Arin wasn’t fooled. He knew she was plotting.

    She had to be.

    The sewing kit had been too clever, too pointed. He was certain it had come from her, and he wasn’t about to let that go unnoticed.

    With a smirk, he strolled past her desk and leaned in just enough for her to hear. “I have to say, Mehra… thoughtful gift.”

    Astha didn’t look up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Verma.”

    Arin folded his arms. “Really? No idea at all?”

    She finally glanced at him over the rim of her glasses. “If you’re referring to your Secret Santa gift, I hear HR is keeping track of them. Maybe you should check with them.”

    Arin chuckled. “Oh, I don’t need HR. I think I already know who sent it.”

    Astha turned back to her screen, feigning indifference. “Then why are you still talking to me about it?”

    “Because,” Arin said, lowering his voice slightly, “it’s fun watching you pretend.”

    She let out an exaggerated sigh and shook her head. “You are exhausting.”

    “And yet, you keep playing along,” he pointed out smoothly.

    Astha didn’t reply, but Arin caught the tiniest twitch of a smile before she returned to her work.

    By lunchtime, Arin had decided that if Astha was going to challenge him, he’d return the favor.

    While the office was busy, he slipped a small envelope onto her desk. It was sealed with no name, just a single phrase written in neat handwriting:

    For someone who edits the world but never lets it edit her.

    Astha frowned as she picked it up, eyeing it warily before opening it. Inside was a tiny, beautifully crafted eraser in the shape of a quill.

    She stared at it for a long moment, reading and re-reading the note. Then, with the slightest shake of her head, she let out a soft laugh.

    So, that’s how he wanted to play.

    Fine.

    Game on.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Two: The Next Surprise

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Two: The Next Surprise

    The following morning, Astha entered the office, her mind still circling the conversation she had with Arin the night before. She had dismissed it as nothing more than his usual philosophical musings, but something about his words stuck with her.

    As she placed her bag on her desk, her eyes immediately fell on something new.

    A small velvet pouch sat atop her workspace. She frowned, hesitating for a moment before picking it up. Inside, she found a delicate silver bookmark shaped like a quill, its intricate design shimmering under the office lights. Attached to it was a folded note.

    “Words should never be caged. Let them fly free.”

    Astha stared at the message, her fingers tracing the delicate metal of the bookmark. It was thoughtful—too thoughtful. This wasn’t just some random office gift. Whoever her Secret Santa was, they were paying attention.

    Her curiosity sharpened.

    On the other side of the office, Arin was at his desk, typing away when Priya from HR passed by, stopping just long enough to glance at him with an amused expression.

    “Seems like Secret Santa is working overtime,” she teased.

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

    Priya shrugged. “Oh, I just noticed Astha looking very intrigued by her latest gift.”

    Arin merely smiled and said nothing.

    By lunchtime, Astha was still distracted. As she absentmindedly stirred sugar into her coffee, Priya sat down across from her, grinning.

    “So… have you figured out who your Secret Santa is yet?” Priya asked.

    Astha shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s definitely someone observant.”

    Priya smiled. “If I had to guess, I’d say someone in the editorial team. Maybe someone who works closely with you…”

    Astha narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

    Priya laughed. “Oh, absolutely. It’s fun watching you try to pretend you don’t care.”

    Astha sighed. “It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just… personal gifts at work feel unnecessary.”

    Priya leaned in. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to accept something meant just for you.”

    Astha scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

    But as she returned to her desk, staring at the elegant bookmark, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Priya wasn’t entirely wrong.

    Later that afternoon, Arin was reviewing articles when he noticed Astha lingering at his office door.

    “Need something, Mehra?” he asked without looking up.

    She hesitated before stepping inside, closing the door behind her. “I don’t agree with some of your edits.”

    He smiled. “Of course you don’t.”

    Astha crossed her arms. “You changed the structure of my article—again.”

    Arin leaned back, watching her. “Because I know you can write with more force. More passion. You hold back.”

    “I do not hold back,” she countered, stepping forward.

    Arin tilted his head. “Then why does your article feel careful instead of powerful?”

    Astha opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.

    “You know I’m right,” Arin said, his voice softer now.

    Astha exhaled, shaking her head. “I write as I see fit.”

    “And I think you see a lot more than you allow yourself to say,” Arin countered, his tone laced with quiet confidence.

    She studied him for a long moment before shaking her head, exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

    Arin simply smiled. “And you’re predictable.”

    Astha rolled her eyes but took the article back with her. As she walked away, Arin leaned back in his chair, watching her go.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty One: A Question of Boundaries

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty One: A Question of Boundaries

    The evening air was crisp as Astha drove through the dimly lit streets, her fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. Arin sat beside her, his gaze drifting toward the city skyline, illuminated against the darkening sky.

    A comfortable silence stretched between them until Astha finally sighed. “Don’t you think this Secret Santa game is becoming a little too personal?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the road. “We come to the office to work, not to play these games.”

    Arin turned to her, his expression unreadable. “And yet, aren’t the best workplaces the ones where people feel seen? Where they feel like more than just their deadlines?”

    Astha let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “That sounds like something you’d say in an office speech. But reality is different. Work is work.”

    “Is that really what you believe?” Arin asked, his voice quieter now. “Because from what I’ve observed, you care deeply about the people around you. You make sure your team is comfortable, you check in on Priya when she’s stressed, and you make sure Vinod doesn’t skip lunch when he’s drowning in numbers.”

    Astha frowned. “That’s different. That’s… just basic human decency.”

    Arin tilted his head slightly. “Exactly. Maybe this game isn’t about playing. Maybe it’s about reminding people that kindness doesn’t have to come with a reason.”

    She exhaled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Maybe. But there’s a line, Arin. There’s a difference between professional courtesy and—whatever this is.”

    He studied her for a moment, then asked, “And what do you think this is?”

    She glanced at him briefly before turning back to the road. “I don’t know yet.”

    Arin smiled, but he didn’t push further. “Then maybe that’s the real problem, isn’t it?”

    Astha opened her mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Instead, she sighed again, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the conversation. “Fine. But if my Secret Santa leaves anything more personal than a coffee mug, I’m out.”

    Arin chuckled. “Duly noted.”

    As they pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, Astha parked and shut off the engine. “See you tomorrow, Verma.”

    He smiled. “Looking forward to it, Mehra.”

    She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile as she stepped out of the car and headed inside.

    Arin remained in his seat for a moment, watching her go. “Yes,” he thought. “This game was getting very, very interesting.”

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Eight: A Morning of Laughter

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Eight: A Morning of Laughter

    Astha was busy preparing the Sunday brunch when Shanaya casually mentioned, “By the way, Arin’s coming too.”

    Astha sighed, stirring the sambhar. “Why do you keep troubling him by inviting him here?”

    Shanaya grinned. “He lives all alone. He has a right to great food too.”

    Astha rolled her eyes but said nothing, knowing there was no arguing with her daughter when she set her mind to something.

    Her parents arrived soon, bringing their usual warmth and humor into the home. When Arin entered, he was greeted with friendly smiles from Astha’s father and mother, both of whom exuded a natural ease that made him feel instantly welcome.

    Astha’s father, a man with a dry wit and a keen eye, asked him about his work and life. Arin told him his parents had passed long ago, and Astha’s mother gave him a sympathetic look, patting his arm gently. “That must have been hard, beta. Are you married?”

    Arin shook his head, and before he could respond, Astha interjected. “Mom, stop troubling him.”

    “I’m just asking,” her mother said innocently, then turned back to Arin. “You know, my daughter is single too. Very single.”

    “Oh god, here we go,” Astha muttered, rubbing her forehead.

    Shanaya, ever the instigator, grinned at her grandfather. “Arin’s great at Scrabble!”

    Her grandfather chuckled. “Is he now? But can he play carrom?”

    Arin smiled. “I love carrom.”

    “Ah, finally! Someone to challenge me. Astha and Shanaya are all talk,” her father declared, earning protests from both.

    As brunch was served—steaming idlis, crispy dosas, and fragrant sambhar—Arin had his first taste of what family meals truly meant.

    “Eat more, beta,” Astha’s mother insisted, adding another dosa to his plate.

    “I’m already full,” Arin admitted.

    “Nonsense. Good food must be eaten with enthusiasm,” she said, waving off his protests. “See Astha, this is why I need a son-in-law. Someone who listens to me.”

    Astha nearly choked on her sambhar. “Mom!”

    Shanaya burst out laughing. “You walked right into that, Mom.”

    The laughter carried over to the living room, where the carrom board was set up. Teams were quickly formed—Shanaya and her grandfather versus Arin and Astha, with Shanaya’s grandmother acting as the enthusiastic umpire.

    “No favoritism, alright?” Astha warned her mother.

    “Of course not,” her mother replied, too innocently.

    The game began with friendly competitiveness, but soon devolved into blatant cheating from Shanaya and her grandfather, who played with the coordination of seasoned tricksters.

    “That was a foul!” Astha protested as her father flicked the striker in an obviously questionable move.

    “What foul? It’s called experience,” he replied innocently, grinning as he pocketed another coin.

    “Experience in cheating!” Arin added, laughing as Shanaya high-fived her grandfather.

    Shanaya smiled. “We believe in bending the rules for a greater cause.”

    “And what cause is that?” Arin asked.

    “Winning, of course,” she said matter-of-factly.

    Astha narrowed her eyes. “I see we have raised a monster.”

    “You’re just jealous because we’re winning,” Shanaya shot back.

    “Winning through sheer dishonesty!” Astha countered.

    “It’s called creative problem-solving, Mom.”

    The banter continued, accusations of cheating flying back and forth, alliances shifting, and playful bickering keeping everyone entertained.

    By the time the game ended (with questionable results in favor of Shanaya’s team), Arin leaned back, watching them interact. He had never had a morning like this before—filled with warmth, laughter, and the simple joy of human connection.

    He thought about his own world, where emotions were considered unnecessary distractions, and for the first time, he truly questioned it.

    If emotions were so unimportant, why did this feel so real? So… right?

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Seven: A Conversation

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Seven: A Conversation

    Arin sat beside Shanaya as she spread out her books, flipping to the page that contained her essay topic. “Okay, so what’s the problem?” he asked, scanning the prompt.

    Shanaya groaned. “The problem is, my mom wants me to struggle and cry over this. But I’m not an English person—I’m an artist! I paint emotions, I don’t describe them in long-winded essays.”

    Arin chuckled. “Well, let’s make it simple. Think of it like painting, but with words.”

    She squinted at him. “That sounds suspiciously like something my mom would say. Are you secretly on her side?”

    He smiled. “I’m neutral. Consider me an undercover ally.”

    As they worked through the essay, Shanaya slowly began to enjoy the process, surprising herself with how naturally her thoughts flowed when guided the right way. Between discussions on metaphors and structure, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

    “I never knew my dad,” she said suddenly, tapping her pen against her notebook. “He died when I was a baby.”

    Arin looked at her, sensing the shift in tone. “That must’ve been hard.”

    She shrugged. “Not really. I mean, you can’t miss what you never had, right? But I know what he did to my mom. He was an alcoholic. He beat her, harassed her for dowry. She doesn’t talk about it much, but I know. That’s why she doesn’t believe in love.”

    Arin listened silently, letting her continue.

    Shanaya sighed, twirling her pen. “I’ve told her so many times to find a boyfriend or something, but she just laughs it off. She calls herself a B.I.T.C.H—Babe in Total Control of Herself—but I know… sometimes she cries alone.”

    Arin’s chest tightened. “You see more than she thinks you do.”

    She nodded. “Yeah. We used to fight a lot when I was 14. I’d get so mad at her. But one night, I saw her crying alone. And I realized… she’s really lonely. Since then, I just wanted to be there for her.”

    Arin smiled, ruffling her hair. “You’re a good kid, Shanaya.”

    She wrinkled her nose, swatting his hand away. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Verma. Just help me finish this essay before my mom finds out I had assistance.”

    Arin chuckled, shaking his head as he guided her through the next paragraph. But his thoughts lingered on what she had said.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Six: A Secret Plea

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Six: A Secret Plea

    Later that evening, just as Arin was settling in, he heard a soft knock on his door. Opening it, he found Shanaya standing there, clutching a notebook against her chest with the look of someone about to commit a crime.

    “I need your help,” she whispered conspiratorially.

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “With what exactly?”

    She sighed dramatically. “An English essay. Mom wants me to suffer and cry, but I’m not an English person—I’m an artist, okay? So, you need to help me. And Mom can never know.”

    Arin smiled, crossing his arms. “You want me to be your secret academic accomplice?”

    “Yes!” she hissed. “I’ll owe you one. Just… don’t make it too obvious, or she’ll know.”

    Arin chuckled, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.”

    As Shanaya slipped inside, grinning, Arin wondered just how deep he was getting entangled in this family’s world.

    And why he didn’t mind at all.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Five: The Ride Home

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Five: The Ride Home

    As the day wound to an end, Arin found himself seated in Astha’s car once again. The usual hum of the engine filled the silence between them as she maneuvered through the city streets with practiced ease. He glanced at her, wondering how she had felt about the Secret Santa idea, but she looked as composed as ever, her focus on the road.

    Deciding to break the silence, he asked, “So, do you like the Secret Santa idea?”

    Astha sighed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “It’s… amusing. Watching grown adults skulk around leaving anonymous notes and tiny surprises is strangely entertaining.”

    Arin chuckled. “So you don’t completely disapprove?”

    “It’s harmless enough,” she admitted, her tone lighter than usual. “And I suppose it’s nice seeing everyone so enthusiastic about it. Office camaraderie and all that.”

    He nodded, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “And you? Do you enjoy it?”

    She tilted her head, considering. “I guess I do… but I’ve never been one for surprises. They tend to come with expectations, and expectations lead to disappointment.”

    Arin found himself studying her profile, the way the dim evening lights flickered over her face. “Not all surprises are bad, Astha. Some are just… meant to make life a little brighter.”

    She glanced at him briefly before returning her gaze to the road. “Maybe. But let’s see if this one lasts or if it fizzles out like most office traditions.”

    Arin smiled to himself. “We’ll see.” As the car pulled into their apartment complex

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Three: A Gift for Everyone

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Three: A Gift for Everyone

    That afternoon, Arin sat at his desk, deep in thought. If he wanted things to change for Astha, he couldn’t make it obvious. She would never accept anything just for herself. But if it was something that involved everyone…

    An idea formed.

    Calling a meeting with the entire staff, Arin stood before them and smiled. “Though Christmas is months away, I’ve decided to start a new tradition—Secret Santa. Starting this week, everyone will pick a name from the basket and become that person’s Secret Santa.”

    There were murmurs of excitement in the room.

    “The rule is simple—don’t reveal yourself, but make your person’s time in the office a little brighter. You can do it with small notes, gifts, or anything that brings a smile to their face. After a month, we’ll all reveal our Secret Santas.”

    Laughter and chatter filled the air as people eagerly picked names. Arin quietly looked at Astha. She was smiling, but in that resigned way—shaking her head as if indulging in something she found ridiculous yet endearing.

    When the basket arrived at his desk, Arin reached inside and pulled out a folded chit. He opened it, and his gaze lingered on the name written there: Astha Mehra.

    He stared at it for a moment, something stirring in his chest. Out of all the people in this office, I got her name? What were the odds? What was at play here? Destiny?