Shailaza's Blog

Tag: fantasy

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Sixty Six: A New Understanding

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Sixty Six: A New Understanding

    Astha arrived in the office. She had barely settled at her desk when a coffee cup was placed beside her. She looked up to see Arin leaning casually against her desk, smirking.

    “Your favorite,” he said, tapping the cup lightly.

    Astha narrowed her eyes. “Thank you. Now go away.”

    Arin placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch. Is this how you treat your devoted husband?”

    “Arin.” She gave him a pointed look. “We talked about this.”

    He sighed, but the amusement in his eyes didn’t fade. “Fine, fine. I’m just here as your very professional editor-in-chief.”

    She scoffed. “Good. Then act like it.”

    He leaned in slightly. “But you do love it when I bring you coffee, don’t you?”

    Astha rolled her eyes. “Yes. And I also love silence.”

    He chuckled but finally relented, heading to his own office.

    The Office Dynamic

    To everyone else, Arin and Astha seemed to maintain their usual dynamic—professional, competitive, with just the right amount of sharp banter. But beneath the surface, something had shifted.

    When he reviewed her articles, she could feel the warmth in his gaze, the way he lingered slightly when handing her notes. When they crossed paths in the hallway, there was a fleeting brush of fingers, so quick that no one else would notice. And then there were the stolen glances—silent conversations held across the newsroom, a language only they understood.

    Shanaya, of course, was the first to pick up on it.

    One evening, as Astha was typing on her laptop at home, Shanaya plopped down beside her with a knowing smirk.

    “So, you and the boss man seem to be getting along really well these days.”

    Astha didn’t even look up. “We’ve always gotten along.”

    Shanaya snorted. “Oh please. Last month, you wanted to push him off a cliff.”

    Astha smiled. “That feeling still hasn’t gone away.”

    “But now, you’d probably jump after him.”

    Astha shot her a look, but Shanaya just grinned. “Mom, you look happy. Like… actually happy. It’s weird.”

    Astha sighed, closing her laptop. “Is it that obvious?”

    Shanaya nodded. “To me? Yes. To others? Maybe not yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”

    Astha exhaled. “I just… don’t want people gossiping. And I don’t want things to change.”

    Shanaya softened. “Mom, things have already changed. Maybe it’s time to just… go with it?”

    Astha stared at her daughter for a moment, then pulled her into a side hug. “When did you get so wise?”

    Shanaya grinned. “I’ve always been wise. You just never noticed.”

    A Private Moment

    That night, Astha stepped onto her balcony for some fresh air, only to find Arin standing on his own, waiting.

    He looked up when he saw her, his expression softening. “Couldn’t sleep?”

    She shrugged. “Just needed air.”

    He leaned against the railing. “So… how did I do today? Professional enough?”

    She smiled. “Surprisingly, yes. Though the coffee stunt was unnecessary.”

    “Not a stunt,” he corrected. “Just love.”

    Astha’s heart skipped a beat. She exhaled slowly. “Arin…”

    He studied her for a moment. “You’re overthinking again.”

    She sighed. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been alone for so long, managing everything by myself. And now you’re here, slipping into every part of my life like you belong.”

    His voice was gentle. “Maybe because I do.”

    She looked away. “I just don’t want to mess this up.”

    He stepped closer, tilting her chin up so she met his eyes. “You won’t.”

    She swallowed. “You’re awfully confident about that.”

    He smiled. “Because I know us. I know you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

    She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Then, finally, she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

    For the first time, Astha let herself believe him.

  • 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 Five: First Impressions

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Five: First Impressions

    Arin called Astha into his office that afternoon. She walked in, glancing briefly at the papers on his desk, then at the printed version of her article in his hand.

    “You could tighten the conclusion,” he said, sliding it toward her. “It’s strong, but there’s room for refinement.”

    Astha barely looked at him. She picked up the document, scanned his suggested revisions, and nodded absentmindedly. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll work on it.”

    Arin studied her, noticing how detached she seemed. There was no curiosity, no engagement, just a willingness to get the task done.

    A few hours later, he called her back, pointing to another section of the same article. “This could use a more compelling transition,” he noted.

    This time, she looked up, frowning slightly. “Didn’t we already go over this?” she asked, her tone controlled but edged with irritation. Still, she did not meet his gaze for more than a second.

    “Yes, but on second read, I believe this would make it even sharper.” He leaned back, watching her reaction.

    Astha inhaled, reining in whatever annoyance she felt, and nodded curtly. “Fine. I’ll adjust it.”

    As she turned to leave, Arin observed her closely. Unlike most employees, she didn’t linger for small talk, didn’t show even a trace of nervousness around him. More importantly, he realized that apart from a handful of people in the office, she barely socialized. She worked efficiently, spoke only when necessary, and retreated into her own world the moment her tasks were complete.

    It intrigued him.

    Because in a world full of people, Astha Mehra walked alone.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Three: A New Beginning

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Three: A New Beginning

    Arin knew he couldn’t just appear in Astha’s life as a stranger. He needed a role, a position of influence that would allow him to observe her closely, to understand the mind behind the words that had shaken him so deeply.

    With a calculated shift in the temporal fabric, he altered events subtly—small nudges here, minor delays there—until history aligned in his favor. When the English Daily found itself in need of a new resident editor, the name Arin Verma appeared at just the right time, with credentials carefully forged by weaving into the past unnoticed.

    By the time he stepped into the newsroom, no one questioned his presence. He was their new editor, the authoritative yet enigmatic figure who now held influence over Astha’s work.

    Astha walked into the newsroom that morning, coffee in hand, her mind already occupied with her latest article. She barely noticed the whispers among her colleagues until she saw them gathered around a desk, stealing glances toward the editor’s office.

    “Who is he?” she overheard someone say.

    “Arin Verma,” another replied. “Apparently, he’s our new resident editor.”

    She had expected someone different—perhaps another seasoned journalist with years of experience. But as she stepped closer, her gaze landed on the man behind the glass walls of the office. Arin Verma.

    There was something about him—an air of quiet authority, an energy that seemed both unfamiliar and unsettlingly intense. He caught her looking and, for a brief moment, their eyes met. A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

    Astha turned away quickly, irritation prickling at her. Something about him felt… off. But she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

    Arin, however, felt something entirely different—anticipation.

    The game had begun.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter One: The Woman in the Library

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter One: The Woman in the Library

    The air inside the small library carried the scent of old paper and quiet contemplation. A stark contrast to the controlled, sterile environment Arin had always known. He moved between the shelves unseen, observing the woman who sat by the window, her fingers dancing over the pages of a notebook. Strands of her dark hair slipped from her bun, framing a face absorbed in thought.

    Astha Mehra. The woman behind the poem.

    She was 46 years old, with an air of quiet determination about her. She wore jeans and a well-fitted t-shirt, the kind of outfit she was most comfortable in. Formal occasions sometimes forced her into a dress, and she knew she looked decent in them, but sarees were not her style. A pair of spectacles rested on her nose, occasionally slipping as she pushed them back absentmindedly. She considered herself average—perhaps even overweight—but there was something effortless about the way she moved, as if her body was simply a vessel for her mind, always lost in thought.

    Her pen scratched across the notebook in quick, sharp strokes, pausing every so often as she bit her lip in concentration. Her brows knit together when she struggled with a word, and then she would scribble something out, exhaling in frustration. She muttered under her breath, sometimes shaking her head at herself before continuing.

    Arin watched, fascinated. He wanted to understand what had driven her to write those words. Was it longing? Was it loss? Did she even know what she had captured in that poem—something so powerful that it had reached through time and found him?

    She sighed, stretching her fingers before flipping back a few pages in her notebook. Her lips moved silently as she read over something she had written earlier. Then, a small, satisfied smile flickered across her face, and she tapped her pen against the paper before adding a new line.

    That smile stirred something in him.

    He took in every detail of her—the way she pushed her glasses up, the way her lips moved as she read, the quiet sighs that punctuated her thoughts. She was a woman accustomed to solitude, to having thoughts that belonged only to herself. She was not trying to impress anyone. And perhaps that was what made her so compelling.

    She suddenly looked up, her gaze shifting toward the ceiling, as if she was about to speak to someone unseen. Instead, she pressed her lips together and shook her head, returning to her work.

    She had no idea he was here.

    For now.

    …To be continued in the next post