Gone Case, But My Case

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The living room was still buzzing with warmth and laughter, the afterglow of a festive evening lingering in the air. Dhruvin stole a glance at Aashna from across the room. She was sitting on the armrest of the sofa, absentmindedly twirling the edge of her pallu between her fingers, engaged in conversation with Sia. Every now and then, she would lift her gaze, and their eyes would meet—just for a fleeting moment—before she quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever Sia was saying.

Dhruvin smirked. Busted.

His friends didn’t miss the silent exchange either. Manan nudged Raj, who waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Bro, I swear these two are talking in Morse code.”

Sia snickered, adding, “Forget Morse code, this is some next-level telepathy.”

Aashna shot them a warning glare. “Shut up.”

On the other hand,  Dhruvin who had been cautiously navigating through conversations with Aashna’s parents, hoping to make a decent first impression. He had already earned some points with her mother by helping with the decorations earlier, and Aryan seemed to have taken a liking to him after receiving the headphones.

Now, he found himself seated next to Aashna’s father, Mr. Pathak, an intimidating but well-spoken man who had a habit of scrutinizing people with sharp, assessing eyes.

“So, Dhruvin,” Mr. Pathak began, adjusting his glasses, “you’re studying Mass Media?”

“Yes, Uncle. First year, Masters.”

“And what after that?”

Dhruvin hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding, “Filmmaking. That’s where my passion is.”

Mr. Pathak hummed, not exactly disapproving but not approving either. “Interesting. Filmmaking is a challenging career, isn’t it? Not many make it big.”

Dhruvin nodded, used to this conversation. “True, but every field has its struggles. The way I see it, if you love something enough, you figure out how to make it work.”

Aryan, who was listening in while munching on chakli, piped up. “He makes sick videos, Papa. He’ll be famous one day, just watch.”

Dhruvin chuckled, shaking his head. “Bas bas, itna bhi nahi.”

Aashna’s father considered his words, then leaned back. “At least you have a direction. A stable path.”

And then he sighed, shaking his head before continuing, “See, Dhruvin, at least you know what you’re doing. Our Aashna? Gone case. Always stuck in her books and writing nonsense. Koi scope nahi usme (There’s no scope in it).”

The words landed in the middle of the lively atmosphere like a stone dropping in still water.

The room went silent.Aashna, who had been laughing at something Sia said, suddenly froze. Her fingers clenched the edge of her pallu. She blinked once, twice, and then, without a word, stood up and walked toward her room.

Dhruvin felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

He turned to Mr. Pathak, his usual laid-back demeanor slipping away. His voice was measured, respectful, but firm.

“Uncle, with all due respect, Aashna isn’t a ‘gone case.’ She’s brilliant.”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Writing isn’t a career, Dhruvin. It’s a hobby at best.”

Dhruvin exhaled, choosing his words carefully. “Filmmaking isn’t a ‘stable’ career either, yet I still want to pursue it. Writing, storytelling—it’s the same. If she chooses it, she should be supported.”

Mr. Pathak’s expression didn’t shift much, but her mother was now watching Dhruvin intently, and Aryan looked downright impressed.

Her mother, who had been watching silently, gave him an approving nod, while Aryan smirked. “Didi ko solid defense lawyer mila hai (Didi has found a solid defense lawyer).”

Dhruvin chuckled at that but then turned serious again. “She just needs support. Especially from her family.”

Her father sighed, rubbing his temple, as if considering his words.

But before the conversation could go any further, Aashna’s mother spoke up, patting Dhruvin’s shoulder. “Beta, thank you for saying that. She really needs to hear it from someone other than us.”

Dhruvin simply nodded. He wanted to check on her.

Her father didn’t respond, but Dhruvin saw the tension in his jaw. He wasn’t a bad man, just a traditional one—someone who feared unconventional paths. But that didn’t change the fact that his words had hurt Aashna.

And Dhruvin wasn’t about to let that go unnoticed.

After helping Aashna’s mother clear the table, despite her protests, he finally made his way toward her room. He hesitated for a second before knocking softly.

A small, meek voice answered, “Come in.”

He pushed the door open, and the sight before him made his chest tighten.

As he stepped inside, he took a moment to observe her room. It was exactly how he had imagined—warm, cozy, and drowning in books. Fairy lights twinkled above the bed, their glow casting soft shadows on the walls.

And in the center of it all was Aashna.

Curled up on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, she looked heartbreakingly small.

For a moment, she thought it was Aryan and mumbled, “Aryan, not now. I just want to be alone.”

Dhruvin leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Pakka?”

Her head snapped up. She quickly wiped at her face, sitting up straight. “Hey… hi. What are you doing here? I got caught up in something.”

There it was—the walls going up again. He saw right through it. Without another word, he walked over and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened at first but then melted into his arms, clutching the fabric of his kurta as silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I just… I just wanted him to believe in me,” she whispered against his shoulder. “Books were my only solace growing up. And now, writing is that solace. But he doesn’t see it, Dhruvin. He never does.”

Dhruvin’s brows furrowed at the weight in her words. There was something unspoken, something deeper. Troubled past? His fingers tightened on her back for a second, but he chose his next words carefully.

“He will, Aashu. One day, he will.”She let out a shaky laugh. “Big words, Deshmukh.”

He smirked. “I’m a filmmaker. I know a good story arc when I see one.”

She laughed, pushing him away lightly, but he could see the gratitude in her eyes. She wasn’t used to people standing up for her. And he had a feeling she wasn’t used to people staying, either.

Not wanting to make the moment heavy again, he glanced around her room. His gaze landed on a small box on her bedside table.

Curious, he picked it up. “why didn't you wear it?”

He had already opened it. Inside lay a delicate silver anklet. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. “Never found the right time between you giving it to me and my baba's outburst to wear it, I guess.”

He smirked. “Then let’s fix that.”

Before she could protest, he knelt down in front of her, taking her saree slightly up. “Permission?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Her throat went dry, but she nodded.

Gently, he clasped the anklet around her ankle, his fingers lingering against her skin for just a second loner than necessary. Once it was secured, he pressed a small kiss to her foot, grinning up at her as he did. “There. Now it’s not lying around unused.”

Aashna, too stunned to speak, just stared at him. Her cheeks were a perfect shade of pink.

Before either of them could say anything, the door burst open, and Manan, Raj, and Sia stormed in.

“BHAI, LET’S GO. IT’S LATE.”

Dhruvin shot them a deadly glare. “Can you not barge in like that?”

Sia smirked. “Ohhh, what were you guys doing?”

Aashna groaned, covering her face, while Dhruvin rolled his eyes. “Nothing. You idiots ruined a perfect moment.”

Raj grinned. “That’s our job.”

Annoyed, Dhruvin shooed them out. He turned back to Aashna, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aashu…”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Come to my place tomorrow. Diwali party. You’re coing, okay?”

She smiled, soft and real. “Okay.”

He grinned, winking. “I’ll be waiting.”

As he left, Aashna glanced down at the anklet, her heart doing something funny in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, this Diwali wasn’t so bad after all.

❤️❤️❤️

Author’s Note

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