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  • 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 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 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 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 Thirty: The Spark of Curiosity

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Thirty: The Spark of Curiosity

    As the day progressed, Astha found herself unable to stop glancing at the golden pen. She twirled it between her fingers absentmindedly during meetings, traced the engraving on the side during quiet moments, and kept returning to the note that had come with it.

    Golden words should be written in gold.

    It wasn’t just a gift. It was a statement. A reminder. A belief in something she had long since stopped believing in—her own words.

    Meanwhile, Arin was experiencing his own distractions. The touch lamp on his desk glowed softly whenever he tapped it, casting a warm light over his papers. He was used to working under sterile, clinical lights, but this? This was different. This was comfort. A small, thoughtful gesture that felt strangely intimate.

    Later that day, as Astha was settling at her desk, Priya from the HR department stopped by, peeking at the golden pen and the diary Astha had received earlier. “That’s a beautiful set,” Priya noted, leaning against the desk. “Someone must really admire your work.”

    Astha smiled faintly. “It’s thoughtful, isn’t it? Do you think it’s someone from editorial? Or maybe Vinod from accounts?”

    Priya smiled. “Could be. Or it could be someone else entirely. Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

    Astha tapped the pen thoughtfully against her desk. “I will.”

    Arin, passing by at that moment, overheard the conversation. He hid his smile as he walked past, amused by her growing curiosity.

    Later that afternoon, Astha received her edited article back from Arin. As she skimmed through the revisions, a crease formed between her brows. Some of the corrections made sense, but others? Others she didn’t agree with at all.

    Picking up the article, she strode into his office. “I don’t agree with this change,” she said, pointing at one section. “This paragraph was already strong.”

    Arin leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against his desk. “It’s strong, but it could be more powerful. I know you can write with passion, with force, but you hold back. Why?”

    Astha blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t hold back.”

    Arin tilted his head. “You do. I’ve read your articles, Astha. They’re excellent, but I can tell when someone is writing cautiously—afraid to go too deep. You don’t need to.”

    She frowned, gripping the paper a little tighter. “I write as I see fit.”

    “And I think you see a lot more than you allow yourself to say,” Arin countered, his voice quiet but firm.

    Astha stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. “You assume too much.”

    Arin simply smiled. “And you deflect too much.”

    She sighed, exasperated, but took the article back with her, unable to shake the feeling that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

  • 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 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.