Shailaza's Blog

Category: novels by Shailaza Singh

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty: The Great Reveal

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifty: The Great Reveal

    The office buzzed with anticipation. An announcement had been made earlier in the day—this was it. The last gift from each Secret Santa would finally reveal the sender’s name. No more guessing, no more mystery. Just the truth.

    Astha pretended to be indifferent. Let’s just get this over with. But a tiny part of her—one she refused to acknowledge—was oddly excited.

    At her desk, a neatly wrapped package with her name on it waited. She turned it over, hesitating for just a second before opening it.

    Inside was a handmade candle, simple yet elegant. She turned it in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship before unfolding the note attached:

    You light up the world.

    And at the bottom, written in confident strokes: Arin.

    Astha’s lips parted slightly. I knew it.

    She turned toward his cabin, narrowing her eyes. Arin was casually typing away, completely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just managed to throw her into a complete spiral.

    “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Of course, it was him. Who else would write something like this?

    Meanwhile, at Arin’s desk, he unwrapped his own package. His eyebrows lifted as he pulled out a T-shirt that read:

    “The Boss is Always Right. If the Boss is Wrong, Refer to Rule No.1”

    A slow smirk spread across his face. Attached was a simple note, signed without flourish:

    Astha.

    He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. She was impossible. And he loved that about her.

    On their way home, the moment Astha settled into the car, she turned to Arin with her arms crossed. “I knew it was you.”

    Arin suppressed a smile as he adjusted the steering wheel. “Is that so?”

    “Yes.” She huffed. “You were the only one capable of sending something that sentimental.”

    He glanced at her with amusement. “And you? A T-shirt declaring my absolute authority? Not exactly subtle, Mehra.”

    Astha smiled. “You like it, don’t you?”

    He chuckled. “I do. Very much.”

    Astha sighed dramatically. “And to think I spent days trying to figure it out. The earrings should have been the biggest clue, but I convinced myself you were too serious for such things.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “So you underestimated me?”

    “Let’s just say I had my doubts.” She gave him a sideways glance. “And what about you? When did you figure out it was me?”

    Arin grinned. “Oh, the moment I got the ‘Cool’ pendant and Mentos. That had ‘Astha’ written all over it.”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “I was trying to make you less intense.”

    “And yet, here we are.” He gestured toward his new T-shirt. “Apparently, I’m always right.”

    “Don’t let it go to your head.”

    Arin leaned back, a smug look in his eyes. “Too late.”

    She exhaled, shaking her head as she turned to look out the window. “Well, it’s over now. No more mysteries.”

    Arin’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. “Is that what you wanted?”

    Astha didn’t answer immediately. She wasn’t sure.

    But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of not knowing what happens next.

    And Arin? He wasn’t quite ready to let this game be over.

    Not just yet.

    The car ride home was filled with endless back-and-forth banter. What had started as a simple exchange about the Secret Santa gifts had now turned into a full-blown contest of wit and sarcasm. Astha found herself laughing more than usual, and Arin, fueled by her laughter, kept the jokes coming. Their conversation had grown easier, more natural, as if they had known each other for much longer than they actually had.

    For once, there were no walls between them. Just effortless companionship.

    “So,” Arin mused as he drove, glancing at her. “You really suspected me all along?”

    Astha scoffed. “Of course, I did. But you’re a good actor, Verma. That deadpan expression of yours never gave anything away.”

    Arin smiled. “I take that as a compliment.”

    She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t. It was annoying. Every time I tried to guess, you sat there like some enigmatic mystery novel villain.”

    Arin chuckled. “And yet, you doubted yourself.”

    She huffed. “Only because I thought you were too serious for all this.”

    He pretended to be offended. “Too serious? I gave you poetic notes, earrings, and a handmade candle, and you thought I wasn’t capable of fun?”

    Astha gave him a sideways glance. “That’s precisely why I doubted it. You went too far with the sentimentality. It didn’t match your usual brooding, bossy self.”

    Arin shook his head. “And you? A T-shirt declaring me always right? That had your sarcasm all over it.”

    Astha grinned. “What can I say? I’m just looking out for you, Verma. Making sure you never forget the rules.”

    He chuckled, shaking his head. “I won’t. Trust me.”

    They continued teasing each other about the previous gifts—Arin playfully accusing her of sending the ‘Cool’ pendant just to mess with him, while Astha claimed she had nearly suspected Priya before realizing only Arin would be bold enough to send something so perfectly crafted to rile her up.

    By the time they reached their apartments, neither of them wanted the conversation to end. It had been easy, light, and unexpectedly enjoyable.

    The next morning at the office, Astha was informed of an assignment—she and Arin had to travel to Udaipur to cover a story, a directive from the head office. The announcement didn’t bother her much; she loved traveling. What did surprise her, however, was Arin’s insistence that they take a car.

    “We should drive down,” he suggested casually. “It’s more convenient.”

    Astha snorted. “You should drive down. I, however, love a good bus ride.”

    Arin looked at her, baffled. “You prefer a bus over a car?”

    “Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “It’s part of the adventure.”

    Arin sighed, already regretting this conversation. “Fine. Do what you want. I’ll see you in Udaipur.”

    Astha smiled and waved him off, enjoying how much it unsettled him.

    The next day, Arin found himself at the bus station, dialing Astha’s number.

    “Which bus are you on?” he asked, still hoping she had changed her mind.

    “The one headed to Udaipur,” she replied nonchalantly. “Look up.”

    Arin tilted his head upward, scanning the top of the buses.

    And then he saw her.

    There she was, sitting on the roof of the bus, surrounded by other passengers, grinning down at him like a victorious warrior.

    His eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

    Astha laughed. “Welcome to the real way to travel, Verma. Now hurry up and climb on before we leave you behind.”

    Arin groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re impossible.”

    “And yet, here you are, debating whether to join me or not.”

    Arin stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head in amusement.

    This woman was going to be the death of him.

    But damn if he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Eight: Unravelling The Mystery

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Eight: Unravelling The Mystery

    The next morning, Astha arrived at the office determined to ignore the lingering heat in her cheeks from last night’s conversation with Arin. Their drive to the office was filled with silence and Astha preferred that. She wasn’t a schoolgirl blushing over some harmless teasing. She was a grown woman with a career and responsibilities.

    Yet, the memory of his smirk, the way he had studied her reaction with quiet amusement, played on repeat in her mind.

    She shook her head and focused on her work.

    As she settled into her seat, another small package sat neatly on her desk.

    Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure.

    She unwrapped it carefully, revealing a small, elegant bookmark—gold with intricate engravings of stars, mirroring the earrings she had received earlier. Attached to it was a note:

    For the woman who writes stories but doesn’t realize she is one herself.

    Astha exhaled, staring at the words longer than she should have.

    This was getting ridiculous.

    Her secret Santa clearly knew her well, too well.

    She glanced around the office, but no one was paying her any particular attention. Arin was in his cabin, deep in work. Priya was laughing at something on her phone. The rest of the office was going about their day as usual.

    She tapped the note against her desk, lost in thought.

    Meanwhile, across the room, Arin found another package on his desk.

    He raised an eyebrow. This game wasn’t over yet.

    Inside was a pair of sleek black sunglasses with a note tucked beneath them:

    You should wear these, Mr. Editor. You’ll look cooler when you’re not intimidating people with your intense stare.

    Arin let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

    He slid the glasses on and leaned back in his chair, amused by the reflection of himself in his laptop screen.

    A moment later, his phone buzzed.

    A message from Astha.

    Astha: Whoever my secret Santa is, they need to stop being poetic. It’s getting out of hand.

    Arin smiled and typed back.

    Arin: Why? Not a fan of being appreciated?

    A pause. Then another message popped up.

    Astha: I’m not a fan of mysteries I can’t solve.

    Arin exhaled, glancing at the note that had come with his gift.

    So, she wanted to solve the mystery?

    Maybe he would make that a little harder for her.

    That evening, as they drove home, the air between them was lighter than usual.

    Astha was still contemplating her secret Santa dilemma when Arin, still wearing the sunglasses, turned to her with an exaggerated smirk. “So, what do you think?”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

    He chuckled. “Not what my secret Santa thinks.”

    Astha shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re enjoying this so much.”

    “Oh, I am,” he admitted. “And you? Have you figured yours out yet?”

    Astha exhaled. “No. And at this point, I don’t think I care anymore.”

    Arin glanced at her, amused. “Really?”

    “Yes,” she muttered. “It’s just some office game. Whoever it is, they’ll reveal themselves in two days anyway.”

    “Hmm,” Arin mused. “So you’re just going to wait?”

    “Yes,” she said firmly.

    But as she said it, Arin could see the slight crease in her brow—the tiniest sign of intrigue.

    She was more curious than she let on.

    And for the first time in his existence, Arin found himself looking forward to a moment in time that hadn’t happened yet.

    Because when she finally learned the truth, he wanted to be there to see it.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Seven: Signs and Secrets

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Seven: Signs and Secrets

    That morning, as Astha settled at her desk, she found another package waiting for her. Small, neatly wrapped, with a note attached.

    She carefully untied the ribbon and opened it to reveal a pair of delicate star-shaped dangler earrings. A small card was tucked inside, the handwriting precise and elegant:

    For a woman who is a star but doesn’t know it yet.

    Astha blinked, staring at the note for a long moment before picking up the earrings. They shimmered softly under the office lights, catching reflections like tiny galaxies suspended in silver.

    She looked around, scanning the office as discreetly as possible. Who could have sent this?

    Her mind immediately rejected the most obvious answer—Arin. He was polite, professional, and always maintained a certain distance, despite their interactions outside work. He pushed her in her writing, challenged her, but this? This wasn’t his style.

    Was it?

    She shook her head. No, it can’t be him. Arin wasn’t the kind of man who played these kinds of games. He was far too composed, too serious. She reasoned with herself—it must be someone else, maybe Priya playing a joke or someone from the office trying to be amusing.

    Still, her fingers brushed over the earrings again before she tucked them away in her drawer, her expression unreadable.

    Across the room, Arin observed her quietly.

    He had expected her to smile, to react in some way, but instead, she simply tucked the gift away as if pushing the thought aside. He exhaled, watching the small furrow between her brows before turning back to his screen.

    Later that afternoon, a package arrived at Arin’s desk.

    Curious, he opened it and found a small pendant spelling out the word Cool in sleek silver. Alongside it, a single roll of Mentos rested in the box.

    There was a note:

    You look better when you are cool about everything. Take a chill pill, boss!

    Arin let out a rare laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. He had a strong suspicion about who had sent it, and for once, he didn’t mind being challenged.

    That evening, as they drove home, Arin reached into his pocket, unwrapped a Mentos, and casually handed one to Astha. “My secret Santa says I look better when I take a chill pill,” he said with amusement. “Want to test the theory?”

    Astha took the candy but didn’t comment, popping it into her mouth with a small, unreadable smile.

    Arin glanced at her. “Who do you think my secret Santa is?”

    Astha kept her eyes on the road. “How would I know when I have no clue about mine?”

    It was then that he saw it—a soft blush creeping up her cheeks, subtle but unmistakable.

    For the first time since he had known her, Astha blushed.

    Fascination gripped him. The strong, confident woman he had come to admire had always been composed, sharp, in control. But this moment—the slight pink in her cheeks, the way she avoided his gaze—this was a side of her he had never seen before. A side that intrigued him far more than he had anticipated.

    He leaned back slightly, watching her with growing amusement. “Maybe it’s Pooja… or Neha?” he mused, ticking off imaginary names on his fingers. “Or maybe it’s one of your friends?”

    Astha kept her eyes stubbornly ahead. “I don’t know.”

    Arin saw her blush deepen and found himself enjoying this more than he should. So she’s not as immune as she pretends to be.

    For the first time, a strange urge settled in his chest—the desire to reach out, to pull her into a quiet embrace, to see how long it would take before she stopped pretending and let herself be flustered. But he didn’t.

    Instead, he asked casually, “Any idea who your secret Santa is?”

    Astha gruffly replied, “I don’t have time for these things. Besides, in the next two days, we’ll know anyway, so why bother?”

    Arin smiled, filing away this moment as something worth remembering.

    The car ride continued in silence, but his mind was anything but still.

    He liked this contrast.

    And he wanted to see more of it.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Six : A Silent Decision

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Six : A Silent Decision

    The weight of realization settled over Arin like an unshakable force. He had spent his entire existence believing in duty, in the infallible logic of the Time Keepers, in the necessity of following the laws that had governed him since childhood. But now, for the first time, duty felt like a cage rather than a purpose.

    As he stepped onto his balcony, the familiar sight of Astha’s dimly lit living room greeted him. The curtains were drawn back just enough for him to see her silhouette, curled up in her usual spot with a book in hand, spectacles perched on her nose.

    A soft smile played on his lips.

    She had no idea that in some distant world, an ancient council would consider her an anomaly, a distraction, a reason for one of their own to falter. But to him, she wasn’t just a distraction.

    She was the reason his heart now beat with something beyond mere existence.

    He leaned against the railing, closing his eyes briefly, letting the night air cool his skin. If the Elders suspected anything, they would return. They would summon him back. And if they did, what then? Would he be able to leave?

    The answer came swiftly.

    No.

    He wouldn’t.

    Astha was more than just an infatuation, more than just the object of his curiosity. She was home.

    The next morning, Astha found him waiting by her car before she even stepped out of her apartment.

    She raised an eyebrow. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

    “I haven’t,” he admitted easily, his usual polished demeanor slightly ruffled.

    Astha sighed, unlocking the car. “Why do I have a feeling this is my problem now?”

    He smiled. “Because you make everything your problem.”

    She rolled her eyes as she slid into the driver’s seat. Arin got in beside her, fastening his seatbelt as she started the engine.

    As they drove toward work, Astha glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “So, are you going to tell me why you look like you’ve just had an existential crisis?”

    Arin exhaled, staring at the road ahead. “Let’s just say… I’ve realized I’m not going anywhere.”

    Astha frowned. “You say that like you were planning to leave.”

    Arin turned to her then, his gaze steady, unreadable. “I think, once, I thought I would.”

    There was something strange in the way he said it, something layered with meaning Astha couldn’t quite grasp. But before she could press him for answers, the traffic light turned green, and they moved forward.

    Arin didn’t need to explain anything—not yet.

    All that mattered was that he had made his choice.

    He was staying.

    No matter the consequences.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Five: A Visit From Time

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Five: A Visit From Time

    That evening, as Arin sat alone in his apartment, a ripple in the air sent a shiver down his spine. He turned, already knowing what—or rather, who—he would find.

    One of the Elders stood before him, his presence barely disturbing the space around them. His face was calm, their gaze sharp.

    “What are you doing, Arin?” the Elder asked, voice smooth yet weighted with authority.

    Arin didn’t flinch. He kept his expression neutral. “I am on an observation mission,” he replied smoothly. “I will return as soon as it is complete.”

    The Elder studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “You are one of our finest. You have always upheld the law without question. That is why you are given liberties no other Time Keeper has been granted.”

    “I understand,” Arin said carefully. “And I will return once I have completed my task.”

    The Elder’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable, before he nodded once. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he vanished, leaving only silence behind.

    Arin exhaled slowly.

    He had spoken with confidence, but in that moment, something inside him shifted. If he returned, if he left this world behind, he knew what it would mean.

    He would never see Astha again.

    The thought sent a pang through his chest, something sharp and undeniable. He had come here for answers, for curiosity. But now, he knew. He knew without a doubt that he could never return to a world without her.

    Astha was no longer just an observation. She was his world.

    She was in the way she laughed with Shanaya, in the way she fought back without hesitation, in the way she wore her independence like an armor yet secretly longed for warmth. She was in the quiet moments when she gazed at the stars, in the sharp wit that challenged him, in the unexpected tenderness that surfaced when she thought no one was watching.

    She had become the reason he looked forward to each day. The reason his once-structured existence now felt uncertain but alive.

    He wasn’t simply observing anymore. He was living.

    And he wasn’t ready to give that up.

    For the first time in his existence, Arin Verma faced a choice he never thought he’d have to make.

    And he already knew the answer.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Four: The Bookstore Bargain

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Four: The Bookstore Bargain

    By the time Astha finished selecting her books, the pile had grown. 

    Shanaya had contributed to the chaos, sneaking in her own picks. Arin simply watched, entertained, as Astha finally stood up, clutching the books like a knight preparing for battle. 

    “This is fine,” she muttered. “I’ll just convince myself I won’t buy another book for the next two months.” 

    Arin snorted. “Lying to yourself isn’t healthy.” 

    She shot him a look. “Says the man who just happened to be ‘in the neighborhood.’” 

    He conceded with a slight tilt of his head. “Fair point.” 

    Shanaya, meanwhile, eyed the stack. “Okay, so are you actually carrying all that home? Because that’s a workout.” 

    Astha squared her shoulders. “I’ll manage.” 

    Arin, without thinking, picked up half the stack. 

    Astha blinked. “What are you doing?” 

    “Being efficient.” 

    She stared at him, clearly torn between arguing and accepting the help. Finally, she just sighed. “Fine. But if you drop any, I will personally haunt you.” 

    He smirked. “Noted.” 

    As they stepped out of the bookstore, Arin glanced at Astha. 

    She seemed lighter. Less weighed down by whatever had made her take the day off. 

    He didn’t ask what it was. 

    He didn’t need to. 

    And maybe that was why, for the first time, she let the silence between them exist without filling it. 

    They walked together—a woman, her daughter, a stack of books, and a man who wasn’t supposed to care. 

    And yet, despite himself— 

    He did. 

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Three: The Dragon and Her Hoard

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Three: The Dragon and Her Hoard

    The place smelled like parchment and ink, old spines and fresh stories. The scent of a thousand lives bound in paper. 

    Arin stepped inside, his gaze scanning the aisles. The bookstore was not small, yet somehow, he found her instantly. 

    She was sitting on the floor between shelves, a tower of books stacked beside her, another open in her hands. 

    Her glasses had slid to the edge of her nose. Her hair was loosely tied back, strands falling over her face. She didn’t bother pushing them away as she flipped a page, completely absorbed. 

    There was something so unfiltered, so unguarded about her like this. 

    For a woman who kept her walls high, this was a rare moment of vulnerability. Not the dramatic kind. But the simple kind—the kind that showed what she truly loved, what made her heart feel at home.

    He hadn’t meant to say anything. But the words slipped out before he could stop them. 

    “How many are you taking home?”

    Astha blinked, looking up, startled. For a moment, she simply stared, as if trying to process the fact that he was here, standing in her sacred space. 

    Then her eyes narrowed. 

    “What are you doing here?” 

    “I was in the neighborhood.”The lie came effortlessly. 

    She arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You just happened to wander into a bookstore?”

    Arin shrugged, his gaze shifting to the pile beside her. “You just happened to buy half the store?”

    Astha huffed. “It’s not half. It’s—” She paused, counting. Then sighed. “Fine. It’s a problem.”

    Shanaya, who had just returned from another aisle, grinned like she had won a bet. 

    “Told you, boss man. She’s a book dragon.”

    Arin smirked. “I see that.”

    Astha ignored both of them and turned back to her books. “Mock all you want, but these are coming home with me.”

    Arin crouched beside her, picking up one of the books from the pile. “History of Lost Cities?”

    “Sounds interesting, doesn’t it?”

    “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

    Astha glanced at him, her lips twitching. “I do tend to be drawn to things that disappear.”

    There was a weight in those words. Something unsaid. Something felt.

    For a moment, Arin just looked at her. At the way she cradled books like something precious. At the way her fingers brushed over pages like she was memorizing them. 

    He realized, with quiet certainty, that she was exactly the kind of person who would fall in love with words before people.

    And suddenly, he didn’t mind that at all. 

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Two: A Morning Without Her

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Two: A Morning Without Her

    The office felt different. 

    It was strange how a single absence could shift the air, how the absence of one presence could make the familiar seem… less. 

    Astha had messaged him early in the morning. 

    “Taking the day off. See you tomorrow.”

    Short. Direct. No explanation. 

    Arin stared at the screen for a few moments before setting his phone aside. He had no right to ask her why. No reason to probe. And yet, the absence of her presence unsettled him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. 

    The newsroom moved as it always did—keyboards clacked, conversations hummed, the steady flow of news trickled in. But he noticed. He noticed how the usual sharp tap of her heels was missing, how her voice—sometimes sarcastic, sometimes thoughtful—didn’t weave into the daily rhythm of the place. 

    He told himself it was just habit. 

    And yet, when his phone buzzed again, he picked it up faster than necessary. 

    A message from Shanaya.

    Shanaya: Hi, boss man!

    Arin’s lips twitched. He texted back. 

    Arin: Hello, troublemaker. Shouldn’t you be in school? 

    Shanaya: Guess what day it is? 

    Arin: Is this a trick question?

    Shanaya: It’s monthly bookstore escape day.

    Arin frowned. 

    Arin:…Escape?

    Shanaya: Mom goes bananas over books. It’s kind of a tradition. Once a month, she spends half the day getting lost in pages. She pretends it’s “just one or two,” but she’s sitting here surrounded by books like a dragon hoarding treasure.

    Arin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. Of course. 

    Astha. Books.

    Something about that combination made perfect sense. 

    He should have let it go. She had taken the day off. It was none of his business how she spent it. 

    And yet. 

    The next thing he knew, he was standing outside the bookstore. 

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty One: The Silent Reckoning

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty One: The Silent Reckoning

    The next morning, Arin made sure that Anil and Nikhil were held accountable, but in a way that wouldn’t trace back to Astha. He met with the HR director privately, detailing the entire incident from the party without making a spectacle of it. By the end of the day, both men were called in for an official discussion about workplace ethics, and a strict warning was placed in their files.

    Arin didn’t believe in revenge. But he did believe in consequences.

    And no one, no one, was going to get away with treating Astha like a joke.

    That evening, as they drove home, Astha suddenly said, “I need to buy some vegetables. Pull over near the market.”

    Arin nodded. “Alright.”

    She got out of the car, casually walking across the street while Arin watched from inside. He was still thinking about the day when, suddenly, two boys on a bike sped toward her. Before he could even open his door, one of them grabbed at her purse, trying to yank it away.

    But Astha didn’t let go.

    Instead, with a sharp tug, she pulled the biker slightly off balance, twisting her purse strap around his wrist before swinging it hard—directly into his face. The boy yelped, his accomplice struggling to keep the bike steady as Astha delivered another well-aimed whack, sending them scrambling. The two sped off, cursing, while she simply adjusted her purse and walked into the vegetable shop like nothing had happened.

    Arin sat there, stunned.

    Then, unable to help himself, he laughed. A deep, genuine, full-bodied laugh.

    This woman. This absolutely fearless, ridiculous, incredible woman.

    When Astha returned to the car carrying her groceries, she found him still chuckling. “What?” she asked, frowning.

    Arin grinned at her. “Remind me to never steal your purse.”

    Astha shrugged, completely unbothered. “Good. I don’t believe in surrender.”

    Arin shook his head in amusement, but as they drove home, something settled deep within him.

    It was clear that Astha needed no rescuing. She was strong, independent, and more than capable of handling herself. But despite that, despite knowing she could fight her own battles—

    He still wanted to be there for her.

    And that realization hit him harder than anything else ever had.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty: A Line in The Sand

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty: A Line in The Sand

    The silence stretched between them as Astha focused on the road. The city lights flickered past in a blur, but Arin’s thoughts remained fixed on the conversation. He had never expected to feel this angry—this protective—over someone else before.

    Astha, of course, acted like it was nothing. Like the cruel words, the bets, the cheap remarks rolled off her like water on stone. But Arin had seen her—really seen her. He knew how much she gave to her work, how fiercely she loved her family, how much she shielded herself from unnecessary pain. She had built walls, not because she was cold, but because she had no interest in entertaining nonsense.

    And yet, the fact that she simply expected this kind of behavior, that she had learned to brush it off, made his blood boil.

    “You’re brooding,” Astha said suddenly, glancing at him. “Stop it.”

    “I’m not brooding.”

    “You are.” She smiled. “Should I get you a cape so you can complete the look?”

    Arin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “This isn’t funny, Astha.”

    Astha shrugged. “It’s not serious either.”

    “It is serious,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

    Astha sighed, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. “Arin, listen to me. I learned a long time ago that people will always talk. They will always gossip, always assume, always judge. I could spend my entire life fighting it, or I could just live on my own terms and ignore the noise.”

    Arin studied her, trying to understand how she could be so indifferent to something that filled him with frustration.

    She glanced at him and smiled again. “Besides, you getting all worked up over this is quite amusing. Who knew Arin Verma had a temper?”

    “I don’t,” he muttered, looking out of the window. “Not usually.”

    Astha chuckled. “I must say, it’s quite entertaining to see Mr. Cool-and-Collected actually ruffled for once.”

    Arin shook his head. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

    “Oh, I am.” She grinned, but then her tone softened. “Seriously, though. I appreciate what you did. But I don’t need a knight in shining armor, Verma.”

    “I know.” His voice was quiet but firm. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and watch.”

    Astha blinked, slightly taken aback.

    They pulled into their apartment complex, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The tension between them had shifted into something quieter, something undeniably real.

    Finally, Astha broke the silence. “Are you going to keep sulking about this?”

    Arin scoffed. “I don’t sulk.”

    “You do sulk.”

    He sighed and shook his head. “Go inside, Mehra.”

    She grinned. “Goodnight, angry young man.”

    With that, she stepped out of the car, walking toward her building. Arin stayed seated for a moment longer, running a hand through his hair.

    He had crossed a line tonight—not with her, but within himself.

    And there was no going back.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Nine: An Unfamiliar Anger

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Nine: An Unfamiliar Anger

    The next morning, Astha walked into the office to find Priya waiting for her near the coffee machine, her arms crossed, an amused expression on her face.

    “So,” Priya said, sipping her coffee, “I take it you already know what happened at the party?”

    Astha frowned. “What do you mean?”

    Priya smiled. “Oh. So you don’t know.”

    Astha sighed. “Just tell me, Priya.”

    Priya leaned in slightly. “A couple of idiots thought it would be fun to start a bet on ‘who could thaw the ice queen.’ Some of them even tried their luck already.”

    Astha’s expression didn’t change. She simply exhaled, taking a slow sip of her tea. “That’s nothing new,” she said calmly. “Men love betting on things they can’t have.”

    Priya gave her a look. “You’re really not even a little bit mad?”

    Astha shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

    Priya shook her head. “Well, Verma wasn’t. He overheard it and absolutely destroyed those guys. I don’t think they’ll ever look you in the eye again.”

    Astha raised an eyebrow. “Arin?”

    Priya nodded. “Yup. He went full-on furious. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

    Astha sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed her files. “He shouldn’t have wasted his energy. It doesn’t bother me.”

    Later that day, as they drove home, she glanced at Arin. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

    Arin, who had been staring out of the window, turned to look at her. “What?”

    “What happened at the party.” Astha kept her voice casual. “Priya told me.”

    Arin’s jaw clenched slightly. “And?”

    Astha sighed. “And I don’t care. It happens all the time. People will always talk. Let them.”

    Arin didn’t reply immediately. He exhaled, then shook his head. “You should care, Astha.”

    She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

    “Because they don’t get to talk about you like that.” His voice was quiet but laced with something she couldn’t quite place—anger, protectiveness, something else entirely. “They don’t get to reduce you to a joke.”

    Astha studied him, surprised by his intensity. “I don’t need defending, Arin. I handle things my own way.”

    “I know you do,” he said, his gaze still dark. “But that doesn’t mean I have to stand by and let them do it.”

    She wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

    After a pause, she smiled slightly. “I didn’t take you for the angry young man type, Verma.”

    Arin let out a humorless chuckle. “Neither did I.”

    For the first time, Arin felt something completely unfamiliar to him—anger that wasn’t about himself, but about someone else. He had never experienced this kind of protective fury before, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

    But one thing was certain.

    He wasn’t going to let it go.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Eight: The Comfort of Unspoken Bonds

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Eight: The Comfort of Unspoken Bonds

    Later that night, as Arin stood on his balcony, he found himself watching Astha and Shanaya long after their laughter had faded. The glow from their barbecue had dimmed, but a lingering warmth remained in the air.

    He thought about the party, the mindless conversations, the shallow games people played. The way those men had spoken about Astha still gnawed at him. She had been reduced to nothing more than a challenge to conquer, as if she weren’t a person with a life, struggles, and a fierce sense of independence.

    But here, in her world—where her daughter teased her mercilessly and where she stood her ground with playful defiance—Astha was undeniably real.

    And without realizing it, he felt protective of her.

    The next morning, as they got into the car for their usual ride to work, Astha glanced at him and frowned.

    “You’re quieter than usual,” she remarked, adjusting her seatbelt.

    Arin smiled slightly. “Didn’t think you cared.”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “I don’t. But if you’re not going to talk, the silence is going to make me feel guilty for enjoying it.”

    Arin chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m fine, Mehra. Just thinking.”

    She eyed him suspiciously before starting the car. “That’s dangerous. Should I be worried?”

    “No. But they should be.”

    Astha frowned, not entirely sure what he meant. But before she could ask, Arin turned up the radio, cutting off the conversation.

    She let it go for now, but she wasn’t going to forget it.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Five: Unravelling the Mystery

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Five: Unravelling the Mystery

    Astha tapped her fingers on the table, staring at the lunch pack as if it might reveal its sender if she glared at it hard enough. She knew most of the office had been excited about the Secret Santa game, but this was different. This wasn’t a random coffee mug or a novelty keychain.

    This was thoughtful. And that made her uneasy.

    She glanced around the office, scanning faces, trying to catch anyone watching her. But everyone seemed preoccupied with their work. No one looked guilty. No one even seemed remotely interested

    in the fact that she had just received an anonymous meal tailored to her exact taste.

    “Okay, Secret Santa,” she muttered under her breath. “Game on.”

    Later that afternoon, she walked into Arin’s office and dropped her article onto his desk.

    “Here,” she said, arms crossed. “Raw. Unfiltered. No holding back.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow as he picked up the pages. “That was fast.”

    “You said no filters, so I didn’t waste time second-guessing myself,” she replied, then leaned against the doorframe. “Now, let’s see if I pass your impossible standards, Verma.”

    Arin smiled. “Let’s find out.”

    He started reading, his usual smug confidence shifting into something quieter. His eyes moved across the pages, his expression unreadable. Astha watched him closely, searching for any sign of reaction, but his face was frustratingly neutral.

    The silence stretched.

    Finally, Arin set the pages down. He steepled his fingers, watching her.

    “This is—”

    Astha tensed, waiting for him to say something cutting, to pick it apart.

    “—brilliant.”

    She blinked. “What?”

    Arin leaned forward, his voice softer but firm. “This is the best thing you’ve written since I got here. It’s raw, powerful, and it actually feels like you.”

    Astha wasn’t sure how to respond to that. A part of her was relieved, even pleased, but another part of her hated that he had been right.

    “I take it that means you’ll stop editing my work now?” she asked, masking her unease with dry sarcasm.

    Arin chuckled. “No. But I might just let you win a few arguments.”

    Astha rolled her eyes, turning to leave. “Unbelievable.”

    “Astha,” Arin called out just before she reached the door.

    She turned slightly.

    “Keep writing like this,” he said. “The world needs more of it.”

    She didn’t reply, but something about the way he said it stuck with her.

    That evening, as she packed up to leave, she found another small note on her desk.

    “Keep going. Your words are magic.”

    No gift this time. Just the note.

    Astha clenched her jaw.

    Secret Santa or not, she would find out who was behind this.

    And something told her she might not be ready for the answer.

    That same afternoon, as Arin returned to his office, he found a small package on his desk. Curiously, he unwrapped it and found a complete sewing kit, complete with scissors, neatly packed in a tin case. A note sat atop it:

    Cut and sew at the right places, please, Mr. Editor!

    Arin let out a rare laugh, shaking his head as he examined the tiny spools of thread, needles, and neatly polished scissors. Someone was clearly having fun with this game.

    He leaned back in his chair, tapping the note against his palm, before glancing toward Astha’s desk in the distance.

    This Secret Santa game was proving to be more interesting than he had expected.

    And he had a strong suspicion about who was behind his gift.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Four: A Challenge of Will

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Four: A Challenge of Will

    The atmosphere in the office was lighter than usual after Mahesh Singh’s birthday celebration. Employees still talked about how much he had cried, how much joy had radiated from his face, and how a simple tradition had left such an impact. Even Astha, despite her continued skepticism, couldn’t ignore the warmth the initiative had brought to the workplace.

    But she wasn’t going to admit that to Arin.

    Later that afternoon, as she reviewed her latest article, she spotted yet another revision from him that she didn’t agree with. Huffing in frustration, she grabbed the papers and stormed into his office.

    “You’ve changed my intro again,” she announced, holding the pages up.

    Arin looked up from his computer, completely unfazed. “Because your intro was passive. This version is more direct.”

    Astha narrowed her eyes. “You are obsessed with making everything sound dramatic.”

    “I prefer the word ‘engaging,’” he corrected, leaning back in his chair. “Your writing is strong, Astha, but you play it safe. I know you have more fire in you. Why do you keep holding back?”

    Astha crossed her arms, lips pressed into a firm line. “I don’t hold back. I just don’t feel the need to be overly dramatic about everything.”

    Arin studied her for a long moment before he smiled, as if he had figured something out. “Fine. Let’s test something, then.”

    She frowned. “Test what?”

    Arin sat forward. “Write me something—not as a journalist, but as a writer. No filters, no holding back. Write about anything. But make me feel it.”

    Astha scoffed. “I don’t have time for pointless exercises.”

    “Then I suppose I’ll just keep rewriting your work until you prove me wrong,” Arin replied smoothly.

    Her jaw clenched. “That’s manipulation.”

    “That’s motivation.”

    She exhaled sharply, knowing he wouldn’t let this go. “Fine. One piece. And if I do this, you leave my writing alone?”

    Arin grinned. “Deal.”

    Astha snatched her papers back and stormed out of his office, muttering something about “insufferable editors” under her breath.

    This time, she was determined to prove Arin wrong. She spent her entire lunch break writing—pouring her thoughts onto the page with an intensity she hadn’t tapped into in a long time. She crafted each sentence carefully, ensuring that her words weren’t just structured well, but carried weight, emotion, impact.

    Just as she was finishing the final paragraph, a peon walked by and placed a lunch pack on her desk. Astha looked up, frowning. “Who sent this?”

    The peon shrugged. “No idea, ma’am. Someone just asked me to leave it here.”

    She hesitated before opening the pack. Inside were all her favorite items—things she often ordered from the cafeteria but hadn’t had time to get today. A small note was tucked inside.

    Food gives you energy! Eat!

    Astha stared at the note, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Her heart thudded slightly, though she wasn’t sure why.

    Her secret Santa had just made things personal.

    She was more determined than ever to find out who it was.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Three- A New Office Tradition

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty Three- A New Office Tradition

    The next morning, Arin called for a staff meeting in the conference room. The employees shuffled in, curious about yet another of their new editor’s initiatives. Astha, arms crossed, leaned against the doorframe, already suspicious.

    Arin cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the room before he spoke. “I believe that workplaces should be more than just a collection of desks and deadlines. People should feel valued. So, starting today, we are introducing a new tradition.”

    Murmurs filled the room as he continued. “From now on, whenever someone has a birthday, instead of just cake and gifts, we will also take a moment to acknowledge them. On their special day, people will thank the birthday person for whatever they’ve done for them—big or small. And for every ‘thank you,’ they will receive a rose.”

    The room erupted in cheers, with several employees exchanging excited glances.

    Astha sighed under her breath, “Here we go again.”

    Arin’s lips twitched in amusement as he caught her reaction. “I see that some of you are skeptical,” he said, looking directly at Astha, “but trust me, a little gratitude goes a long way.”

    A few days later, it was office peon Mahesh Singh’s birthday. The entire office assembled for the cake cutting. Afterward, one by one, people came forward to personally thank him for the small favors he had done for them—helping carry files, fixing the coffee machine, running errands with a smile. For each heartfelt thank-you, he received a rose.

    Soon, Mahesh stood there with a bouquet of roses in his hands, his eyes welling up with happy tears. “I will never think of resigning from here,” he said emotionally. “This office is my family.”

    Arin glanced at Astha and smiled. “See? This is what happens when you’re grateful.”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “I get it, Verma. You win this round.”

    But even as she walked away, Arin noticed the small, reluctant smile playing at her lips.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Nine: A Mystery Unfolds

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Nine: A Mystery Unfolds

    The next morning, Arin walked into his office, only to find a small touch lamp sitting on his desk. He frowned in curiosity as he picked it up, noticing a neatly folded note attached to its base.

    You light up lives.

    Arin turned the note over, but there was no signature. A slow smile crept across his lips. The game of Secret Santa had just gotten more interesting.

    Across the office, Astha arrived at her desk and immediately noticed something unusual. A sleek, golden pen rested neatly on top of her notepad. She picked it up, examining its weight and craftsmanship. Attached to it was a small card with an elegantly written message:

    Golden words should be written in gold.

    Astha’s brows furrowed slightly. She had been indifferent to the whole Secret Santa idea, assuming it would be nothing more than a round of predictable gifts and forgettable notes. But this? This was thoughtful. Personal.

    Her fingers ran over the golden surface of the pen, and for the first time, she felt a genuine curiosity spark within her. Who was behind this?

    She glanced around the office, subtly observing her colleagues, trying to pick up any clues. Who had chosen such a perfect gift?

    For the first time, the idea of Secret Santa didn’t seem so ridiculous after all.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Four: A Message in Gold

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Four: A Message in Gold

    The next morning, as Arin stepped into his office, his eyes immediately caught sight of something unusual. Sitting on his desk was a small golden scroll, neatly rolled and tied with a delicate ribbon.

    Frowning in curiosity, he picked it up and unrolled it. His gaze softened as he read the words written inside:

    The wind is changing direction,
    Lot of new action,
    I wonder what you are doing,
    Is something brewing?

    A slow smile played on his lips. Someone had sent him this, and he had a strong suspicion about who it might be. Was this Astha’s way of engaging with the game, despite her initial reluctance? Or was it simply a coincidence?

    Meanwhile, at her desk, Astha found an unfamiliar object placed carefully beside her keyboard. A beautiful golden diary, its cover shimmering under the soft office lights. Brows furrowing, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands before opening it.

    On the very first page, there was a note, written in elegant handwriting:

    Let your poems shine. The world needs them.

    Astha inhaled sharply. For a moment, she simply stared at the words, her fingers running over the ink as if trying to absorb their meaning. Who had left this for her? And more importantly… why did it make her feel so seen?

    Across the office, Arin glanced up, watching as Astha’s expression shifted from curiosity to something softer. He looked away before she could notice.

    This was only the beginning.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Sixteen: A Different Kind of Battle

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Sixteen: A Different Kind of Battle

    The drive back was quieter than usual, not awkward, but contemplative. Arin kept glancing at Astha from the corner of his eye, still processing everything he had seen earlier. Her warmth, the way people gravitated toward her, the way she disarmed them with humor and made them feel valued—it was something entirely different from the guarded, reserved woman she seemed to be at work.

    Astha, oblivious to his observations, was busy scrolling through her phone, checking a message from Shanaya.

    “She’s reminding me to bring ice cream,” she muttered. “Like I’d dare go home without it. The wrath of a teenager is not something I’m prepared to deal with.”

    Arin smiled. “Wise decision.”

    As they pulled into the parking lot, Astha unbuckled her seatbelt. “Thanks for the lift, but I’m warning you—this doesn’t mean you get permanent errand duty.”

    Arin leaned back against his seat, a slow smile forming. “I’ll take my chances.”

    She rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car. Arin followed, carrying a few bags despite her protests. As they made their way upstairs, the moment they stepped into the hallway, the door to Astha’s apartment flew open.

    “Ice cream?” Shanaya asked immediately, eyes darting to the bags.

    Astha sighed dramatically, handing over a small tub. “Your lifeline, madam.”

    Shanaya grinned. “You live to fight another day. Oh, hey, Arin! Did Mom make you carry everything? She’s a master at delegation.”

    “I’m starting to see that,” Arin replied dryly.

    Astha gave him a pointed look. “I don’t hear any complaints.”

    Shanaya laughed. “You poor, poor man. Welcome to the club.”

    Astha shook her head, then turned to Arin. “Since you’re already here, might as well stay for dinner. Shanaya’s cooking.”

    Arin raised an eyebrow at Shanaya, who nodded. “Oh yeah, I’m a culinary genius. As long as you like burnt toast, slightly overcooked pasta, and the occasional fire hazard.”

    Astha patted her daughter’s head. “We set low expectations, so when the food turns out edible, it feels like a win.”

    Arin chuckled, feeling something warm settle in his chest. This—this effortless banter, this sense of belonging—it was something he had never truly experienced before. And he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to step away from it.

    Astha led them inside, tossing her bag onto the couch. “Alright, let’s see if we make it through this meal without the smoke alarm going off.”

    Arin glanced around the cozy apartment, the scent of home-cooked food already filling the air. For someone who had spent his life surrounded by sterility and precision, this chaos, this warmth, was something entirely foreign.

    And yet, he found himself wanting more of it.