Chapter 6

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Roohi’s POV

After the Sangeet Night at her home

The sangeet had ended hours ago, yet here I was, staring at the ceiling of my room, the melodies and laughter still echoing faintly in my mind. My best friends were getting married tomorrow, and I was supposed to feel nothing but joy. But tonight, joy eluded me.

Instead, my thoughts kept circling back to Vihan. It wasn’t new; he had this uncanny ability to occupy my thoughts even when I tried to push him away.

This time, though, it wasn’t just about him—it was about letting him go. Could I? Could I ever?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Letting him go, I thought. How could I let go of someone who had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember?

Every little moment we had ever shared came rushing back, unbidden as if my mind had decided to replay the story of us in vivid detail. It was maddening and overwhelming.

I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me one last time. Tomorrow would be another day, another chance to face the reality of a love that might never be returned. But tonight, I allowed myself to dream, to remember, and to hold onto the boy who had drawn circles on my back and stolen my heart without even knowing it.

I turned onto my side, clutching my pillow as the first flash struck—our earliest days, long before we even understood what friendship truly meant.

Our families were inseparable—best friends, partners in every harmless crime. I often joked that if the idea of swapping kids ever came to their minds, they wouldn’t hesitate. Our families were one big unit, and so, my life had been intertwined with Vihan’s long before either of us could spell the word friend.

The earliest memory? I must have been three. Taiji loved retelling the tale of Vihan’s so-called act of heroism, the story of how, at just three years old, he had “rescued” me from a furious puppy. I still cringed at the memory.

“Your knight in shining armor!” she’d tease, pinching my cheek as I groaned in protest.

The truth? A curious puppy wandered too close to me. It wasn’t barking, not even threatening, but  Vihan, the dramatic protector, who was as old as me, had waddled over and shoved me away from the dog. “Stay back, Roohi!” he’d declared with all the authority his tiny body could muster.

I burst into tears, and the puppy, far from aggressive, simply wandered off. But Vihan was hailed as a hero, basking in the praise with his trademark grin. Even then, he had an infuriating way of turning every situation into something that revolved around him.

Vihan had always been like that—bossy, protective, maddeningly sure of himself. “Roohi’s too delicate,” he’d say to anyone who tried to be rough with me. Yet he thought nothing of tugging my pigtails, stealing my snacks, or teasing me until I wanted to scream.

Idiot!

That was how it always was—Vihan leading, me following, and our lives intertwining in ways neither of us could have predicted.

The memory shifted, like pages turning in a beloved book, to the first day of kindergarten.

I was terrified, hiding behind my mother, clutching her saree with all my might. Then there he was, the boy with the mischievous grin and boundless energy.

“Roohi, don’t cry,” he said, taking my hand firmly in his. “I’m here. You don’t have to be scared.”

That was Vihan—my protector, even back then. His presence had been a constant in my life, a comforting anchor.

I rolled onto my back, smiling despite myself. Those childhood days felt so far away, yet their details were etched into my mind like carvings on stone.

The first day of school had been chaos, and in true Vihan fashion, he had been at the center of it. I could still see him dragging Gauravi into the classroom, both of them laughing like they’d shared the funniest joke in the world, his voice loud and confident as he claimed the space like it was his kingdom.

Mihir and I were quieter back then, content to sit with our neatly packed lunchboxes and avoid the chaos.

“Why’re you sitting like statues?” he’d yelled at Mihir and me, his energy so infectious that it was impossible to resist. His voice was loud enough to make the teacher frown. “Come play!”

Before I could refuse, he’d grabbed my hand and pulled me into his orbit. That was Vihan—always pulling people into his world, never taking no for an answer. I became a part of his orbit, pulled into a world where everything revolved around Vihan Singh Rathore.

And then there were the circles.

It started during storytime in the kindergarten. I felt a light, ticklish sensation on my back and turned to find Vihan grinning at me.

“What are you doing?” I’d whispered, annoyed.

“Drawing circles.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored.”

That was it. No grand reason, no explanation. Just Vihan being Vihan.

I complained to the teacher, but even her scolding didn’t stop him. Every day, like clockwork, his finger would return, tracing lazy loops on my back.

“Stop it! I hate when you do it.” I hissed once, glaring at him.

“I like it and you don’t hate it,” he replied smugly. “It’s our thing.”

He wasn’t wrong.

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Good morning

Here is my today's chapter. I hope you like it. Please let me know.

Take care of yourself and have a great day ahead.

Thanks

Chhavi ❤️❤️❤️