Tag: free online romance

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

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

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

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

    Then a sharp knock interrupted his peace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He had never seen her like this before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Arin chuckled. “I should’ve guessed.”

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

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

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

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

    Astha grinned. “Good. You should be.”

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

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

    She looked at him, surprised, but said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Nine: A Close Call

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Forty Nine: A Close Call

    The next morning, the office was buzzing. With only one day left before the big Secret Santa reveal, everyone was excitedly trying to guess their mystery gift-givers. Astha, however, remained stubbornly indifferent—at least, on the surface.

    She wasn’t about to admit that every time she walked into her office, a small part of her anticipated another gift, another note.

    She wasn’t going to admit that she wanted to know.

    And she definitely wasn’t going to admit that the thought of Arin being her Secret Santa made her heart race in a way she wasn’t comfortable with.

    But she pushed all of that aside as she got to her desk, determined to focus.

    Until she saw another package sitting there.

    A small, flat envelope, tied with a golden ribbon.

    She hesitated before opening it, as if acknowledging it would somehow make this whole thing more real.

    Inside was a simple sheet of paper with another handwritten note.

    “Some stories need to be told, but some stories just need to be felt.

    So tell me, Astha—what does your story feel like?”

    Astha inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the note.

    This was different.

    This wasn’t just a playful tease or a poetic compliment.

    This was personal.

    Her eyes darted toward Arin’s cabin. He was typing away, looking perfectly unbothered, as if he hadn’t just managed to throw her into a complete spiral.

    She was not going to react.

    She was not going to let him—or whoever this was—get under her skin.

    So, she did what she did best.

    She rolled her eyes, crumpled the note in her hand, and tossed it into the drawer.

    But she didn’t throw it away.

    Meanwhile, Arin had received a package of his own.

    He unwrapped it to find a sleek, navy-blue coffee mug with bold golden letters that read:

    “Rules are good, but breaking them is fun.”

    A slow, knowing smirk crossed his face.

    Attached to the handle was a note:

    “Here’s something to sip while you learn to relax. You can start by not editing this note.”

    Arin let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

    His Secret Santa—Astha—was more amused by this than she let on.

    But more than that, she was intrigued.

    And that’s what he wanted.

    That evening, as they drove home, the tension was different.

    Lighter. Charged.

    Astha was quiet, fingers drumming lightly against her lap, lost in thought. Arin stole a glance at her, waiting, knowing she wanted to say something.

    Finally, she exhaled and turned to him. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?”

    Arin raised an eyebrow. “What exactly?”

    Astha narrowed her eyes. “This… game.”

    Arin smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mehra.”

    She huffed. “Fine. Play dumb. In a few hours, this whole thing will be over, and then we’ll see who was enjoying it more.”

    Arin chuckled. “You sound very certain.”

    “I am certain,” she insisted. “Because whoever my Secret Santa is, I—”

    She stopped mid-sentence, catching herself before she said too much.

    Arin caught it. He saw the way her fingers tightened just slightly around her bag, the way she looked out the window a second too long.

    And suddenly, he wanted to drag this out just a little more.

    Because for the first time, Astha Mehra wasn’t running away from something uncertain.

    She was running toward it.

    And he was more than willing to let her catch up.

  • 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 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 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 Seven: The Party And The Bet

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

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

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

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

    Astha didn’t even look up. “No.”

    Arin smiled. “That was fast.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

    Arin’s grip tightened on his glass.

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

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

    Arin had heard enough.

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

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

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

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

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

    Neither man had an answer.

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

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

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

    This wasn’t her world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    She had to be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    So, that’s how he wanted to play.

    Fine.

    Game on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Her curiosity sharpened.

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

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

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

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

    Arin merely smiled and said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Astha scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

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


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

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

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

    He smiled. “Of course you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

    Astha opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty 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 Twenty Two: The Drive to Work

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty Two: The Drive to Work

    The next morning, Astha pulled her car keys from her bag as she and Arin walked to the parking lot. She was back to her usual composed self—reserved, distant, her face revealing nothing of the emotions she had bared to the stars the night before. It was as if that vulnerability had been carefully locked away, sealed behind her pragmatic exterior.

    Arin stole a glance at her as they slid into the car. He had seen her break, had heard the whispered confessions of her loneliness, but today, she was impenetrable again, her walls firmly in place. He wondered how long she had perfected this act of strength—how many nights had she stood beneath the sky, asking for nothing, expecting even less.

    She started the car, and as the engine purred to life, the radio crackled. A familiar song drifted through the speakers—Celine Dion’s I’m Alive.

    A small smile tugged at Astha’s lips as she turned the volume up. “This is one of my favorites,” she admitted, her voice lighter than he had heard in a while. “It just… makes sense.”

    Arin watched as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm, humming the melody before softly singing along. Her voice, unguarded in that moment, was clear and sincere, as though for once, she allowed herself to exist beyond the weight of her responsibilities.

    He didn’t speak. He simply listened, memorizing this new version of her—the one who sang along to songs, the one who allowed herself these rare, fleeting moments of ease.

    By the time they reached the office, the song was still playing in the background as she pulled into the parking space. She turned to him briefly, her mask slipping back into place. “See you inside.”

    And just like that, she was gone, walking towards the office entrance with her usual purposeful stride, as if the morning had never happened.

    Arin remained seated for a moment, watching her go.

    She was a mystery. And no matter how much he observed, he wasn’t sure he would ever fully understand her.

    But he wanted to try.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty One: The Whispered Truth

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Twenty One: The Whispered Truth

    That night, Arin was preparing to sleep when a soft sound caught his attention. Faint at first, but unmistakable—someone was crying.

    Frowning, he moved toward his balcony, his senses alert. The sound was coming from the adjacent balcony. Astha.

    She stood there, illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlights, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed up at the stars. He hesitated, staying in the shadows, unsure if he should make his presence known.

    Then, in a whisper, she spoke.

    “I’ve always adjusted my life according to what you gave me,” she murmured, her voice laced with quiet frustration. “I never asked for more. I never asked for someone to take care of me. I never asked to be held or loved. All I wanted was for my daughter and my parents to be happy and healthy. Isn’t that enough?”

    She let out a shuddering breath, her fingers tightening around her arms. “I have no one else. And I don’t need anyone else. As long as they’re safe, as long as they’re with me, I’ll be fine.”

    Then, almost imperceptibly, her voice broke. “But… can’t I even get a hug? Just one?”

    Arin felt something inside him twist at the raw vulnerability in her voice. She was strong, fierce, independent—yet, in this quiet moment, she was simply human. Simply longing.

    A few seconds passed before she sniffled and let out a small, bitter chuckle. “I know why you never gave me anyone. Because it would just complicate my life, right? Because men are demanding, chauvinistic, exhausting. It’s better this way, isn’t it? I understand.”

    She sighed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “But whatever you have given me, please… keep it safe.”

    With that, she turned and quietly went back inside, shutting the door behind her.

    Arin remained rooted in place, his heart hammering in his chest. She hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t known he was listening.

    But he had.

    And now, he couldn’t unhear what she had whispered to the stars.

  • THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Eighteen: Some Unlikely Traditions

    THE TIME KEEPER’S POEM: Chapter Eighteen: Some Unlikely Traditions

    The night had long since stretched into one of effortless laughter, sarcastic critiques, and moments where Arin found himself genuinely surprised by how much he was enjoying this ridiculous, chaotic tradition.

    The movie was now deep into its climax—a scene so absurdly over-the-top that even the most forgiving audience would struggle to take it seriously. The hero, drenched in rain, looked up at the sky in anguish as the heroine ran toward him in slow motion, her hair miraculously staying perfect despite the storm.

    Shanaya threw up her hands. “Why are they running toward each other like that? She’s five feet away! Just walk like a normal person!”

    Astha sighed, shaking her head. “Because drama, dear child. If they had normal conversations and walked at a normal speed, we wouldn’t have this cinematic masterpiece.”

    Arin, watching the exaggerated wailing on-screen, smiled. “Masterpiece? That’s generous.”

    Astha gave him a solemn nod. “We’re in the presence of greatness. Look at this man’s pain. He’s been in love for exactly three business days, and now the world is ending because of it.”

    Shanaya mimicked the actor’s dramatic pose, pressing a hand to her chest. “Ah yes, the greatest tragedy known to mankind—falling in love with someone you just met and immediately losing them. Shakespeare could never.”

    “Truly a loss for literature,” Astha added. “Imagine if we all functioned like movie characters. ‘Oh no, I made eye contact with the barista for two seconds longer than usual. Guess I have to quit my job, move cities, and stare at the ocean while pondering my entire existence.’”

    Arin let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous.”

    “Welcome to our world, Arin,” Shanaya said, patting his shoulder. “We take our terrible movies very seriously.”

    “Clearly.”

    As the credits finally rolled, they all sat back, the room now filled with a comfortable kind of silence. Shanaya stretched and yawned dramatically. “That was exhausting. I feel like I lost brain cells.”

    “You had some to begin with?” Astha teased.

    “Wow, the betrayal.” Shanaya gasped. “Arin, did you hear that? My own mother. Just throwing me under the bus.”

    Arin, still smiling, glanced at Astha. “I’m starting to think there’s no one she doesn’t throw under the bus.”

    Astha smiled. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You survived your first roast night, didn’t you? That’s an achievement.”

    Arin exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. “I suppose it is.”

    Astha stood, stretching. “Alright, children, time for bed. Some of us have jobs in the morning.”

    “You say that like I don’t also have to wake up early,” Shanaya grumbled.

    “I do say it like that, because you’ll be in bed hitting snooze while I contemplate throwing your alarm clock out the window,” Astha replied.

    Arin, who had been a quiet observer in many parts of life, realized that he wasn’t just observing anymore. He was part of something here, part of an easy familiarity he hadn’t even realized he craved.

    He looked at Astha, who was gathering the empty popcorn bowls, and at Shanaya, who was pretending to be mortally wounded by her mother’s words.

    Somewhere between sarcastic critiques and overcooked pasta, he had been welcomed into their world.

    And for the first time, he wasn’t just a visitor in someone else’s story.

    He was becoming part of it.