The streets shimmered with the fading hues of twilight. A gentle breeze swayed through the city, brushing past the young couple walking quietly side by side. There was something electric in the air — not loud or flamboyant, but tender and unspoken. They said nothing, yet their eyes spoke volumes.
The boy glanced at the girl, his gaze lingering a second longer than it should have. She lowered her eyes shyly, but a small smile betrayed her heart's rhythm. He reached out, gently, almost uncertainly, trying to take her hand. She withdrew, not coldly, but playfully, her cheeks flushing with the warmth of something unsaid. She walked a few steps ahead, her eyes still dancing with mischief.
The lane they strolled through suddenly opened into a deserted road bathed in golden streetlight. The air stilled, as though waiting for something to unfold. There was no one around. Here, away from the world, she finally slipped her fingers into his. They stopped walking. The silence around them was louder than words.
He cupped her face, eyes tracing every inch, every flicker of emotion that surfaced. She closed her eyes, slowly leaning in, their foreheads touching.
Just as their lips were about to meet, a deafening blast shattered the stillness. The sky lit up with fire. Meteors — real ones — fell across the horizon like stars crashing to Earth. Screams echoed in the distance, people rushing, panicking. Sirens blared, tyres screeched, the world descended into chaos.
The boy didn't let go. He held her hand tighter and pulled her along as they ran. No words were exchanged. The world was collapsing around them, but his grip never faltered.
Rain began to fall — sudden and wild. They kept running until the buildings faded and trees surrounded them. A forest swallowed them whole. The air was wet, the ground muddy, their breaths ragged.
He paused, hearing footsteps. He looked at her and said, "Hide behind that tree. Don't come out until I say. I'll find a way."
Before she could argue, he was gone — into the shadows. She stood still, hands clenched to her chest, heart beating like a drum.
A few minutes passed. Then, screams. A struggle. She peeked out just in time to see him — bloodied, running back toward her. Relief flooded her face. But before he could reach her, a sword pierced through his chest from behind.
She screamed.
And woke up.
Her body jerked upright in bed. Sweat clung to her skin. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps. Her hands trembled as they reached for the bottle of water on her side table. She drank like she had been parched for years.
"What was that?" she whispered to herself.
She closed her eyes, trying to recall the face. It felt so familiar. Not just a dream... something more. She forced herself to remember — the jawline, the lashes, the messy hair, the softness of his lips, the sadness in his eyes.
And then it hit her.
"The guy from Marine Drive," she gasped.
The man she had rescued the previous night.
She fell back into her pillow, cursing herself. "Just because he's handsome, he landed in my dreams? Rubbish."
But she couldn't stop thinking about him. His voice, even though he barely spoke, his eyes that looked at her like they already knew her, the way his head rested on her lap, how his fingers barely clutched her hand before he passed out — everything replayed in her mind on a loop.
"I've never noticed a face so much before..." she murmured. "Get a grip, girl."
She threw off the blanket and walked to the washroom. The cold splash of water on her face didn't wash away the thoughts. He was still there — somewhere in the back of her mind, like a shadow that refused to leave.
She got dressed, picking a soft blue kurta and jeans. Her hair was still damp when she walked back into the room, towel in hand. She had a lecture at 2 PM. Being a guest faculty at a private college in Mumbai wasn't a walk in the park — especially not with the kind of traffic she had to wade through.
"Should leave by 12," she mumbled, checking the time. It was already 11 AM. She hadn't had breakfast yet. Her stomach grumbled in protest.
As she reached for her bag to grab her purse, her fingers brushed against something hard and unfamiliar.
The box.
She paused.
Pulling it out slowly, she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers caressing the wooden edges. The same box from yesterday.
And then another realization hit her.
Why did she go to Marine Drive yesterday?
She hadn't planned it.
Someone had called her — a voice that sounded like a stranger, telling her to come to Marine Drive urgently. She had waited, expecting someone to show up, but no one had. She had looked around, felt a little foolish, thought it was one of her students playing a prank.
But then... she saw him.
Lying unconscious. Alone.
"Maybe that's why I was meant to be there," she whispered.
She placed the box gently on her bedside table. "Still weird though…"
Her phone buzzed with a college notification, snapping her out of the trance.
"Back to reality."
In the kitchen, she prepared a quick breakfast — toasted bread with butter and an omelette. The sizzle of eggs hitting the pan brought a temporary distraction. She made herself a cup of coffee, sipped it slowly, hoping the warmth would settle her nerves.
But even as she ate, his face lingered like a scent in the air. That moment when he opened his eyes and saw her. The way he calmed down when she whispered to him. The faint smile, the way his body leaned into her touch — unknowingly, instinctively. After she gave him water that night, she remembered an old man approaching. She'd been relieved, asked him to stay with the unconscious man while she ran to get an auto.
She was gone barely seven minutes.
But when she returned…
No one was there.
Not the old man. Not the stranger. Nothing but the restless sea crashing against the rocks.
She stood there, frozen, confused.
Maybe the old man took him to the hospital. Maybe everything was fine. Maybe she wasn't supposed to meet him again.
Still…
"I need to get a grip," she muttered, rinsing her plate.
By noon, she was in a cab, heading toward the college. The traffic was unbearable, as always — honking, shouting, the occasional street vendor tapping on her window. But none of it touched her. Her mind was elsewhere.
She leaned back, closed her eyes, and sighed.
"Who are you?" she whispered to the passing blur of buildings outside.
When she reached the college, she taught her class as usual. Her students — curious, bright-eyed teens — asked questions about optics and energy equations. But for the first time in months, her answers lacked fire. Her chalk paused mid-sentence. Her thoughts wandered.
Every time she blinked, she saw his face.
By the time her lecture ended, she had made a decision.
She would go back to Marine Drive that evening. Earlier than usual. Maybe just for a walk. Maybe to clear her head. Or maybe... to see if something — someone — waited there again.
She didn't know what she was expecting.
But somewhere deep inside, she felt it wasn't over.
Not yet.