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  • 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.

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

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fifteen: The Ride Home

    The next evening, as they wrapped up work, Astha turned to Arin just as they stepped out of the office.

    “I have some errands to run for my family. You don’t have to wait. I’ll take an auto home,” she said matter-of-factly, already fishing her phone out of her bag to book a ride.

    Arin, who had been walking beside her, stopped. “I don’t mind waiting.”

    Astha paused and gave him a flat look. “You realize that could take hours? I have to go to the pharmacy, the grocery store, and pick up something for Shanaya. I won’t be quick.”

    “It’s fine,” Arin said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ll wait.”

    Astha narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you one of those people who thinks chivalry means making life inconvenient for yourself? Because, just so you know, I am perfectly capable of—”

    “It’s not chivalry,” Arin interrupted smoothly. “It’s efficiency. You’ll already be exhausted after running around. It makes sense for me to drive you home rather than have you wait for an auto.”

    Astha sighed and shook her head. “You know, for someone who claims to be efficient, you really like making things more complicated than they need to be.”

    Arin smiled. “I could say the same about you.”

    Astha exhaled in mild exasperation but didn’t argue further. “Fine. But don’t complain when I make you carry grocery bags.”

    “Duly noted,” Arin replied, his expression unreadable, but his eyes glinting with amusement.

    And so, for the first time, Arin found himself tagging along with Astha, watching her navigate the small, everyday routines of her life—things that were unremarkable to her but utterly fascinating to him.

    As they went from one shop to another, Arin observed something unexpected. Astha had a way with people, a quiet charisma that wasn’t forced but felt entirely natural. At the pharmacy, the staff greeted her with familiarity, and within moments, she had the usually gruff pharmacist chuckling at one of her wry remarks.

    At the grocery store, she bantered with the vendor, making light-hearted complaints about the price of vegetables while deftly convincing him to give her the freshest produce at a discount. “Come on, Bhaiya, I practically keep your shop running. The least you can do is not charge me extra for looking like I have expensive taste.”

    The man laughed, shaking his head. “Aap toh humesha jeet jaati hain, Astha Madam. (You always win, Astha Madam.)”

    “Well, someone has to,” she said with a dramatic sigh, making the vendor chuckle even more.

    Arin watched, marveling at this side of her. He had always known her as sharp, reserved, sometimes distant. But here, surrounded by familiar faces, she was warm, kind, and—dare he say it—charming. She made people laugh, not in an over-the-top way, but with quiet, clever humor that seemed to disarm even the most reluctant of souls.

    By the time they reached the final stop, Arin found himself carrying half her bags, despite his earlier amusement at her threat. “This was planned from the start, wasn’t it?” he asked dryly.

    Astha smiled. “I make people do my bidding by being nice to them. Works every time.”

    Arin shook his head, amused. “Noted. I’ll have to be more cautious next time.”

    She tilted her head. “Or you could just accept that you’re doomed like everyone else who knows me.”

    For the first time in a long time, Arin didn’t mind the idea of being ‘doomed.’

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fourteen: Scrabble and Sarcasm

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Fourteen: Scrabble and Sarcasm

    That evening, Arin knocked on Astha’s door at precisely the time Shanaya had instructed. When the door swung open, Astha raised an eyebrow at him, her expression unreadable. “So, the great editor has been roped into Scrabble warfare. Hope you know what you’ve signed up for.”

    Arin smiled. “I’m a quick learner.”

    “Good,” Astha said, stepping aside to let him in. “Because Shanaya plays dirty.”

    Shanaya, already setting up the board, grinned. “Excuse me? I play strategically. There’s a difference.”

    Arin took a seat beside her while Astha settled opposite them, her expression composed, almost indifferent. As the game began, Arin quickly realized that Astha’s style was precise, methodical—she played not just to win, but to obliterate her opponent’s confidence entirely.

    Shanaya groaned as her mother placed quixotic on a triple-word score. “Come on, Mom. Who even uses that word?”

    Astha took a sip of her tea. “People with a vocabulary.”

    Arin nearly choked on his water, caught off guard by the deadpan delivery. He had expected Astha to be reserved, maybe even aloof—but he hadn’t expected this dry, merciless humor.

    “Alright, alright,” Shanaya muttered, placing her next word. “We’ve got this, Arin. We just need strategy.”

    Arin carefully selected his tiles and placed eloquent on a double-letter score. “There. That should level the playing field.”

    Astha peered at the board, unimpressed. “Cute. But not good enough.”

    A few turns later, she casually placed zephyr on a triple-word score, earning an impressive number of points. She looked up at Arin, her expression entirely neutral. “Would you like me to recommend a dictionary?”

    Shanaya groaned and dropped her head onto the table. “Mom, do you have to crush our souls along with the game?”

    “It builds character,” Astha said, straight-faced.

    Arin shook his head, both amused and intrigued. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

    Astha leaned back in her chair, sipping her tea. “Where’s the fun in that?”

    The game stretched on, each round more intense than the last. When Arin placed modest on the board, Astha raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see you’re spelling out your personality now. Next round, try delusional. It would be more accurate.”

    Shanaya laughed loudly. “Mom, that was brutal.”

    “I’m just helping him expand his vocabulary,” Astha said with a straight face.

    Arin smiled, playing along. “Noted. And here I thought I was the editor.”

    By the time the final tiles were placed, Astha had won—unsurprisingly. She leaned forward, her tone completely serious. “Good effort. If it helps, you didn’t lose by too embarrassing a margin.”

    Shanaya sighed dramatically. “I need a new teammate. This one didn’t save me.”

    Arin chuckled. “I’ll be better prepared next time.”

    Astha smiled slightly. “I’d like to see you try.”

    As Arin left that evening, he found himself replaying the night in his mind. He had come expecting a simple game of Scrabble.

    Instead, he had discovered another piece of Astha Mehra that he hadn’t known existed.

    And he wanted to see more.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Eleven: The First Ride

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Eleven: The First Ride

    The next morning, Astha walked out of her apartment, adjusting the strap of her bag as she made her way to the parking lot. She wasn’t particularly excited about the carpool arrangement, but she had agreed to it without much thought. These initiatives never lasted anyway.

    As she neared the car, she found Arin already waiting, leaning against the driver’s side with his usual composed expression. He gave her a polite nod before opening the door. “Morning. Ready to go?”

    She slid into the passenger seat, buckling up as she adjusted her glasses. “Sure. Let’s get this over with.”

    Arin started the car, the engine humming softly as they pulled out of the parking lot. The silence between them was not awkward, but rather filled with an unspoken understanding—neither was particularly interested in forced small talk.

    Astha glanced out of the window, watching the city wake up. “So, what’s the plan? You drive this week, I drive next?”

    Arin nodded. “That’s what we agreed upon. Unless you’d prefer a different arrangement.”

    “No, this works,” she said with a shrug. “Just don’t expect me to be chatty in the mornings.”

    Arin’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “Noted.”

    They continued the drive in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the radio. Astha appreciated that Arin didn’t feel the need to fill the space with unnecessary conversation. He drove smoothly, his focus unwavering, as if even this simple task was part of a greater purpose.

    Astha found herself sneaking a glance at him. There was something about the way he carried himself—calm, unshaken, yet strangely observant. It was as if he was always paying attention, always trying to piece together the world around him.

    As they approached the office, Arin finally spoke. “Would you like me to pick you up in the evening as well, or would you prefer to manage your way back separately?”

    Astha considered for a moment before responding. “Might as well keep it simple. Pick me up when you leave.”

    Arin nodded, as if he had expected her response. “Alright.”

    The moment the car came to a stop in the office parking lot, Astha was already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride. See you later.”

    Before he could respond, she was out the door, making her way inside without a second glance.

    Arin watched her go, a faint trace of curiosity flickering in his expression. She was different from anyone he had met before—unmoved by his presence, indifferent to the little changes he was introducing into her life.

    And that only made him want to understand her more.

  • The Time Keeper’s Poem: Chapter Ten: A New Pairing

    The Time Keeper’s Poem: Chapter Ten: A New Pairing

    The next office meeting was held in the main conference room, the usual murmur of casual conversations filling the space as employees settled into their seats. Arin stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding yet calm.

    “Good morning, everyone,” he began, scanning the room. “As you all know, efficiency is key in everything we do—not just in our work, but in the way we live. With that in mind, I’ve introduced a new initiative. From now on, we will be organizing carpooling among employees who live in the same locality. This will help us reduce our carbon footprint, save fuel, and hopefully, make commutes more pleasant.”

    There were mixed reactions—some nods of approval, some hushed whispers of uncertainty. Astha barely looked up from her notepad, uninterested in yet another office initiative that likely wouldn’t last beyond a few weeks.

    “The carpooling teams have already been arranged based on addresses,” Arin continued, glancing down at his notes. “You will find your assigned partners listed in the group emails sent to you shortly. Please coordinate with your respective colleagues to arrange your commute.”

    As the meeting concluded and people began filing out, a coworker approached Astha with an amused smile.

    “Guess what, Astha? You’ve been paired with the boss himself. Arin Verma is your carpool partner.”

    Astha stopped mid-step. “What?” She turned to face the woman, frowning. “You’re joking.”

    “Not at all. You live in the same building, so it makes sense. You should discuss the details with him.”

    Astha exhaled sharply. Of all the people in the office, why did it have to be him?

    She wasn’t particularly bothered, though. She had seen plenty of these office initiatives fade into oblivion within weeks. This one would likely be no different.

    Later that day, she finally found Arin in the hallway near the break room. “So, I hear we’re carpooling,” she said, her tone neutral.

    Arin turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yes. I’ll be getting my car this week, so I’ll drive us for the first few days. Next week, it’ll be your turn.”

    Astha shrugged. “Alright. Just let me know what time.”

    Arin studied her for a moment, expecting resistance or at least some level of discomfort. But she was indifferent, as if it made no difference to her at all.

    And that, somehow, made him more curious.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Eight: Encounters

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Eight: Encounters

    A few days had passed since Arin moved into the apartment next to Astha’s. Despite their close proximity, their interactions had been minimal—cordial nods in the hallway, brief exchanges in the elevator. Astha was polite but distant, just as she was at work.

    One evening, as Astha returned home with a bag of groceries, she found Arin standing by his door, his sleeves rolled up, a small toolbox on the ground beside him.

    “Problem?” she asked, glancing at the door.

    “Locked myself out,” he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Apparently, technology fails even the best of us.”

    She smiled, unlocking her own door. “Welcome to the joys of being human.”

    “I suppose I should embrace the experience fully,” he said, watching as she pushed her door open.

    Astha hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Want to wait inside until the locksmith comes?”

    Arin raised a brow, surprised by the offer. “That would be appreciated.”

    She led him inside, setting her groceries down on the counter. The space was warm, lived-in—books stacked on tables, framed photos on the shelves. It was nothing like the orderly, minimalist world he had come from.

    She disappeared into the kitchen, emerging with two cups of tea. “Here,” she said, handing him one. “You look like a coffee guy, but tea is what I’ve got.”

    Arin accepted it, studying her. She wasn’t one for small talk, but she had her own way of being hospitable.

    “Thank you,” he said, taking a sip.

    For the first time since he arrived, he wasn’t just observing her from a distance.

    He was stepping into her world.

  • The Time Keeper’s Poem: Chapter Six: The Words That Meant More

    The Time Keeper’s Poem: Chapter Six: The Words That Meant More

    Astha had always been careful about what she shared. She wasn’t the kind of person who poured her heart out, who spoke about dreams as if they meant something.

    No, she had learned her lesson.

    And that lesson was simple—

    Words don’t change fate.

    The newsroom was buzzing with its usual chaos.

    Reporters typing furiously, phones ringing, coffee cups being refilled for the third time.

    Astha was reviewing an article when Sheetal dropped into the chair beside her, grinning.

    “Astha, why don’t you write poetry for the newspaper?”

    Astha looked up, startled.

    “What?”

    Sheetal rolled her eyes. “You write so beautifully. Why keep it hidden?”

    Astha sighed, shaking her head. “It’s just words.”

    Sheetal frowned. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

    “No,” Astha said, her voice quieter.

    “A poem is nothing but words strung together.

    Words that don’t belong to each other.

    They are just cries of the heart scribbled in haste.

    They just speak of love, but they don’t change destiny or fate.”

    Sheetal studied her for a long moment.

    Then, softly, she said, “Don’t lose faith, Astha.”

    Astha smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

    “I lost faith a long time ago.”

    Across the room, Arin Verma sat at his desk.

    And though he appeared focused on his work, he had heard every single word.

    His hands stilled over his keyboard.

    His mind replayed her words over and over.

    “They just speak of love, but they don’t change destiny or fate.”

    And yet—he was here.

    Because of her poem.

    Because her words had reached across time and pulled him into her world.

    Because her poetry had already changed fate.

    And one day, he would prove it to her.

    One day, she would believe again.

    But for now, he simply watched.

    And waited.

    And silently made a promise to himself.

  • 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 Four: The Introduction

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM Chapter Four: The Introduction

    Arin stood at the front of the newsroom, surveying the gathered staff. The hum of quiet murmurs faded as he cleared his throat, commanding attention with an air of effortless authority.

    “Good morning, everyone. I’m Arin Verma, your new resident editor,” he began, his voice calm yet firm. “I know change can be unsettling, but I want to assure you—I’m not just here to lead. I’m here to work alongside you, to collaborate, and to grow with this team.”

    He continued, discussing his vision for a balanced workplace, emphasizing that work should be both fulfilling and enjoyable.

    Astha, however, barely listened. She had seen many editors come and go, and none of them had made a difference in her life. To her, this was just another face, another person making lofty promises before they inevitably moved on. Instead of listening, she glanced at her watch, waiting for the meeting to end so she could return to her desk and start working.

    As the meeting concluded, Arin’s gaze briefly met hers. He noticed the disinterest, the way she remained unmoved by his speech. A glimmer of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

    The game was now on.