Diwali Dhamaka: Love in the Air?

Your votes matter! By voting for each chapter, you help boost the story’s visibility, allowing more readers to discover and enjoy it. Please, vote before you start reading the following chapter. Thank you for your support!

GUYS, PLEASE VOTE. PLEASE HIT THAT FOLLOW BUTTON.

Three Months Later…

Three months had passed since that night at Dhruvin’s house. Since then, their bond had only grown stronger. Dhruvin’s relentless flirting and Aashna’s nonchalant responses had become a daily routine. Their friends had stopped questioning it—it was just how they were.

But right now, romance was the last thing on their minds.

Because semester-end exams were here.

The university library was packed with students drowning in books, notes, and silent existential crises. At one corner table, Aashna, Dhruvin, Sia, Advait, and Manan were deep in their "studies"—or at least, that was the plan.

Manan dramatically dropped his head onto the table. “Guys, I think I’m gonna die. This is where my story ends. Not in a grand adventure, not in love—just under a pile of unread notes.”

Raj, flipping through his textbook, rolled his eyes. “Bro, you haven’t even opened your book yet.”

Manan groaned. “Exactly. The fear is paralyzing.”

Aashna smirked. “Maybe try reading instead of giving monologues.”

Dhruvin, who had been watching Aashna intently, leaned closer and whispered, “Tu toh padhai mein ghus gayi, but kab ghusegi mere dil mein?”

(You’re so deep into studies, but when will you enter my heart?)

Without looking up, Aashna replied, “Jab syllabus khatam ho jayega.”

(When the syllabus is over.)

Sia snorted. “Matlab kabhi nahi.”

(So basically, never.)

Dhruvin clutched his chest dramatically. “Uff, why do I even try?”

Advait, who had been quiet, looked at Dhruvin. “Maybe if you put as much effort into your studies as you do flirting, you’d top the exam.”

Dhruvin smirked. “Exams toh har saal aayenge, Aashna jaisi ladki baar-baar nahi milti.”

(Exams will come every year, but a girl like Aashna isn’t found every day.)

Aashna finally looked up and gave him a sarcastic smile. “Bas ho gaya? Ab syllabus pe dhyan dein?”

(Done? Now can we focus on the syllabus?)

“Bilkul, madam,” he grinned.

After days of intense study sessions, coffee-fueled all-nighters, and breakdowns over complex subjects, exams were finally over.

Now, it was time for Diwali cleaning.

At Aashna’s House…

Aashna sighed, tying her hair into a messy bun. The entire house was in chaos. Furniture was being moved, cupboards emptied, and dust flying everywhere as her mother orchestrated Operation Clean House.

“Aashna, beta, yeh saree dekh, Diwali party ke liye pehn loon?” her mother asked, holding up a royal blue saree.

(Aashna, dear, look at this saree. Should I wear this for the Diwali party?)

Aashna inspected it and shook her head. “Nahi, Ma. Wear the maroon one with the golden border. You look stunning in that one.”

Her mom smiled. “Tu toh bilkul meri maa ban gayi hai.”

(You’ve become my mother now.)

Aashna grinned. “Agar maa ban gayi hoon toh mujhe bhi Diwali pe naya kurta dilwao.”

(If I’ve become your mother, then get me a new kurta for Diwali.)

Her mother laughed. “Chal, dekh lenge.”

(Okay, we’ll see.)

Just then, her younger brother Aryan walked in, dramatically coughing. “Mujhe lagta hai main dust allergy se mar jaunga.”

(I think I’m going to die of a dust allergy.)

Aashna rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him. “Drama mat kar.”

(Don’t be dramatic.)

Her mother chuckled. “Achha, Aashna, ek kaam kar, puja ki saari cheezein check kar le.”

(Aashna, do one thing—check all the puja items.)

“Ji haan, maharani.” Aashna teased before heading to the storage cabinet.

Meanwhile, at Dhruvin’s House…

Dhruvin, in an old T-shirt and track pants, was deep cleaning his room—something he normally avoided like the plague, but today, Aaji had given strict orders.

“Dhruvin, beta, woh upar ka shelf bhi saaf kar.”

(Dhruvin, dear, clean the top shelf too.)

He groaned. “Aaji, main filmmaker hoon, cleaning service nahi.”

(Aaji, I’m a filmmaker, not a cleaning service.)

Aaji laughed. “Filmmaker? Abhi toh bas exams diye hai. Pehle faral bana, phir Hollywood ka sochna.”

(Filmmaker? You’ve just given exams. First, make Diwali snacks, then think about Hollywood.)

He sighed but went to help her in the kitchen. Making faral (Diwali snacks) was a big tradition in their home.

As he rolled chaklis, Aaji casually asked, “Aashna ka favorite mithai kya hai?”

(What’s Aashna’s favorite sweet?)

He paused. “Kyun?”

(Why?)

“Arre, guest aayegi toh uska pasand ka bhi banana chahiye na.”

(If a guest is coming, we should make something she likes, right?)

A warmth spread through his chest. Aashna wasn’t just a guest anymore—she was a part of their home now.

He tried to act casual. “Aaji, main pata kar loonga.”

(Aaji, I’ll find out.)

Later that evening, after wiping down every last surface, folding his clothes, and arranging his books, he sat on his bed and stared at his spotless room.

He had never put this much effort into anything before.

But this year was different.

Because this year, Aashna was coming over for Diwali.

And maybe, just maybe, she was finally starting to see that he wasn’t just some flirt.

That maybe, he was serious about her.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Author’s Note

Hey there, dear reader! 💛

If you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote, share, and show some love. Your support means everything and keeps me going! ✨

Let me know your thoughts—I’d love to hear from you! 💕📖