chapter 2

Aarti Mehta leaned against the doorframe of her new apartment, staring out at the empty balcony. The city of Ahmedabad stretched before her in a maze of concrete and greenery, the late-afternoon sunlight painting the skyline in soft golden hues. She sighed and stepped out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. This balcony was going to be her escape, her sanctuary - but right now, it was just a bare, dusty space.  "Where do I even start?" she muttered, eyeing the railing with mild disdain.  She pulled out her phone to take a picture of the empty space, imagining the possibilities. Maybe a small table and chairs? Fairy lights? Definitely some plants - lots of them.  A sudden clatter interrupted her thoughts. Startled, she turned her head toward the adjoining balcony. A man - later twenties, tall, with a slightly unkempt beard and a wide grin - was balancing precariously on a stool, trying to hang a planter from the railing.  "Whoa, careful!" Aarti called out instinctively, her voice tinged with concern.  The man wobbled but managed to steady himself. He looked over, noticing her for the first time. "Ah, thanks for the warning," he said, flashing a sheepish grin. "That could’ve been embarrassing."  "It already is," she replied dryly, crossing her arms. "First day in my new apartment, and my neighbor’s already giving me a heart attack."  He laughed, stepping down from the stool and dusting his hands. "Sorry about that. I promise I’m usually not this clumsy. Kabir Singh, by the way. Your friendly, slightly chaotic neighbor."  "Aarti Mehta," she replied with a faint smile. "And apparently, the audience to your balcony acrobatics."  Kabir chuckled. "Well, welcome to the building. Let me guess—new to the city?"  "Not really. I’m from Ahmedabad, but I’ve been living in Mumbai for years," she said, leaning slightly against the railing. "Needed a change of pace. Fresh start, you could say."  "Ah, the classic fresh start," Kabir nodded knowingly. "Let me guess—new job? Or running away from a bad breakup?"  Aarti raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Bold assumption for someone I’ve known for less than a minute."  "Sorry," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Food blogging makes me nosy. I like stories. Everyone’s got one."  "Well, I’m not sharing mine," she said, a touch defensively. "At least not with someone who almost fell off a stool five seconds ago."  "Fair enough," Kabir said with a laugh. "But if you ever need an unsolicited opinion on balcony plants or a great food recommendation, I’m your guy."  Aarti glanced at the line of planters he had already set up—herbs, bright flowers, and even a small potted lime tree. "You seem to know your stuff. Are those… herbs?"  "Yep. Basil, mint, coriander—pretty handy when you cook as much as I do. You cook?"  "Not much," Aarti admitted. "Mostly simple stuff. And I’m vegetarian, so—"  "Say no more!" Kabir interrupted, raising his hands dramatically. "A Gujarati vegetarian—I could’ve guessed! Dhokla, thepla, fafda, right?"  "Wow," Aarti said, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Stereotype much?"  "Guilty as charged," Kabir replied, unbothered. "But, in my defense, I’m Punjabi. Food stereotypes are practically in my DNA."  Aarti couldn’t help but laugh. "Okay, fine. You’re forgiven. But just so you know, we Gujaratis can do more than dhokla and thepla."  "Challenge accepted," Kabir said with a mock bow. "I’ll expect you to prove it one day."  Aarti shook her head, still smiling, and turned back toward her apartment. "We’ll see, Mr. Singh. Thanks for the… interesting introduction."  "Anytime, Ms. Mehta," he called after her. "And welcome to the building!"  As she stepped inside, Aarti felt a little lighter. She had expected this move to feel lonely, overwhelming. But maybe, just maybe, the neighbor with the chaotic energy and the herb garden might make things a little more interesting.  Outside, Kabir stood on his balcony, arranging his planters. He glanced at the empty space next door and smiled to himself.  "Fresh starts," he murmured. "Let’s see where this goes.". To be continue..