"Uncle Vihaan, do you remember when you asked me what I wanted for this Diwali?"Vihaan could sense the seriousness in his niece's voice, signalling that he might not like what she was about to say.Despite being only twelve, she was as challenging and difficult as a full-fledged teenager could be.Ever since his mother had brought Sandhya for a Sunday brunch last week, she had been sulking in her room.Sandhya was his father's childhood friend's granddaughter, and she was also a highly efficient lawyer.His mother had reached her limit with his avoidance of marriage and had taken it upon herself to find him a suitable match.The media had labelled him as a heartless billionaire who treated women poorly, simply because he had never shown interest in any woman before. People believed whatever was written in those cheap tabloids.But Vihaan Malhotra was not a playboy.It wasn't that he wasn't interested in women. He was. For the past thirteen years, his interest had been focused on only
"Thank you, Mrs. Trivedi. Our goal is to ensure your satisfaction," Divyanshi said, offering a polite smile to her new client.Mrs. Trivedi had approached Divyanshi to handle the flower decorations and wedding rituals for her daughter's upcoming marriage. Despite the two-hour distance from their place, Mrs. Trivedi had heard rave reviews about Divyanshi's work and had chosen her."I have heard wonderful things about your craftsmanship, which is why I travelled all this way. I want everything to be perfect for my baby's special day," Mrs. Trivedi expressed."Don't worry, Mrs. Trivedi. I promise everything will be flawless," Divyanshi reassured her.With Mrs. Trivedi's departure, Divya proceeded to the garden behind her shop to water the plants before closing up for the day. As she watered the plants, her thoughts wandered back to the past—her love, her baby. Oh, how she missed them both. If only she could have them back, even for a fleeting moment, to hold them close to her heart."Div
"Excuse me, Miss Trilok? Divyanshi Trilok?" His husky voice resonated, stirring up familiar emotions that had remained dormant all these years. However, he didn't recognize her. It was evident. He would have called her Diya, the name he used to address her."Yes," she affirmed her identity, her heart bleeding as it confirmed what his sister had told her years ago. She had denied Divya access to her baby's father, and now, faced with him, she couldn't deny the truth any longer. An accident had wiped out his memory of their shared phase in life. By the time she tried to reach out, he had already left the country for higher studies on a scholarship. She had no way of confirming the truth then, but she had chosen to believe it, as believing otherwise would have made her even more miserable and felt like a betrayal to their love. Now, the evidence stood before her in the form of Miss Divyanshi Trilok with a question mark. However, shouldn't there be a gut memory, a fraction of what she w
Vihaan scooped her up and cradled her against his chest. A pins and needles sensation surged through his body as soon as he touched her. It wasn't the effort of carrying her weight. She was feather-light. It was the way she nestled in his arms, her head dropping onto his shoulders as though they belonged there. His brain couldn't comprehend his feelings."It's too crazy...too beyond rational explanation," he thought. He was certain he had never seen her before. Her eyes resembling Drishti wasn't an explanation either. Drishti was a child, while this woman, Divyanshi, was a grown woman. How did a woman he had never seen before manifest in his dreams and then materialise in front of him, in flesh and blood? Every line of her face is hauntingly familiar. How illogical was that?Ever since he saw her, Vihaan was hopelessly distracted from the purpose of his visit. In his agitation, he had been insensitive in revealing the truth to her. It was clear that she was worried about not receiv
Vihaan couldn't get her smile out of his head. Her face lit up as if thousands of diyas were lit on a Diwali night. He felt as if a hundred Diwalis had come at once. And the smile felt like a jolt of recognition. Recognition of what? He had no idea. He didn't believe in the stupidity of knowing each other in previous lives or the crap about star-crossed lovers taking rebirths to reunite with their lover.He felt suffocated because the feelings were so strong. What was so special about her?Yes, she was a beautiful woman, but he had seen many beautiful women in his life. He had women throw themselves at his feet even before he made his first million. So, what was so different about this particular woman?He found this meeting so damn disturbing and wanted it to end soon. The purpose of the visit was to know whether or not she would be open to the idea of meeting the daughter she had given up years ago. There was no question about that. The memorabilia of Drishti's life on her
As soon as Vihaan entered his apartment, Drishti bombarded him with a barrage of questions."What is she like? Is she pretty? Does she want to meet me? Did you set up a meeting?""Yes, to your last three questions. Now please hold on for a moment," Vihaan said, gently pushing her hyperactive body away and settling her at arm's length.Drishti's face was radiant with excitement, her hands waving like a baby's, her ponytail swinging, and her glittering green eyes—Divyanshi Trilok's eyes—staring into him, desperate for information."Don't be a spoil sport, Uncle Vihaan. I'm dying to know all about her.""Let me pay Mrs. Soodh first."Mrs. Janaki Soodh, a woman in her mid-fifties, was Drishti's nanny."Vihaan beta, you're back?" The woman smiled warmly at him."Yes, Janaki aunty. Were there any calls for me on the landline? My phone seemed to be out of network coverage during the journey.""Oh yes, Sandhya had called. No one else.""Okay, I will call her back tomorrow," Vihaan said.Janak
Divyanshi strolled slowly along the lakeside, feeling a bit early for her lunch with Vihaan and Drishti. If she had stayed in her apartment for a moment longer, she would have succumbed to the anxiety that had led her to change her outfit four times already. She had tried to think about what a twelve-year-old would like to see her mother wearing – smart and classy, soft and feminine, casual and approachable, bright and boldly chic – there were so many looks one might present. Finally, after much contemplation, she settled on vanity. She was wearing a lemon-yellow short-sleeved top and a long emerald green skirt that matched her eyes. And however foolish it might sound, she wanted Vihaan to take a long second look at her. If only he could see her with the same eyes as he did during their first meeting, on their thirteenth anniversary today, maybe the magical connection could happen again. As she neared the deck, she spotted Vihaan leaning against the railing, his profile in view, with
As if a thousand diyas were lit on a Diwali night, as if a hundred Diwalis had come at once. Vihaan stared at her, captivated by that image. Realising how uncannily accurate it was, he thought.‘Isn't that how he felt when he saw her smile?’ And today, when he saw her standing among the crowd, staring straight at him, he couldn't help but wonder, ‘What was that energy that passed between them?’ The energy that caused an electric sensation to pass through his spine. He stared, wishing he could read her mind, wishing she wasn't such an enigma to him. She was still affecting him, and it was not a simple physical attraction. There was some kind of recognition he could feel in his heart. The only way to deal with it was to wait for her to reveal more about herself.Whoever Drishti's real father was, he'd undoubtedly been a smooth-tongued bastard to come up with that apt and evocative description. It was all too clear that the lover boy had taken his merry ride and left her pregnant. Lo