This story begins with Aarav Malhotra who hadn’t stepped inside his ancestral home in nearly twenty years… There was something sacred about silence. The kind that settles like dust on old photo frames, that hums quietly in empty staircases, in cupboards sealed shut by time. Aarav felt that silence wrap around his skin the moment…
This story begins with someone like me, who was tired of pretending to be okay. The world had gone quiet again, and not in the peaceful kind of way.It was that deafening stillness — the one that settles in after everyone’s asleep, after you’ve scrolled through Instagram for the fifth time, after no one replies…
This story begins with Aarav, who hated the girl with the perfect scores and a smile that felt like it belonged on posters, not people. It wasn’t just her handwriting — neat as a confession — or the way teachers said her name like it had gold edges. It was everything. Everything about her felt…
