Four guys connected by family.
Four girls connected by friendship.
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"Dont give me that look." I say, trying to break the eye contact.
"Like what?" He steps closer.
"Like if I ask you to burn this world, you...
~Vo raaz ki tarah Meri baaton mein tha, Jugnu jaisa meri Kaali raaton mein tha. Kissa kya sunawo, Tumhein kal raat ka, Sitaaron ke bheed mein, Vo chand mere baahon mein tha~🕊️🐚🪞
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Song: Banjaara🎶
I arrived at the farmhouse before the world had a chance to catch up.
The scent of damp earth lingered in the air, the remnants of the morning rain still fresh. Everything was still-untouched, waiting.
I preferred it this way. The quiet. The control.
Stepping out of my car, I adjusted my cuffs, taking in the estate.
The farmhouse stood tall against the setting sun, its old stone walls drenched in gold.
Soon, the peace would be shattered. Guests would arrive, voices would fill the space, and I'd be forced into conversations I had no interest in.
But for now, it was just me.
I walked inside, my steps measured, the familiar echo of my shoes filling the empty halls.
I already knew where I'd find him.
Sure enough, in the main sitting room, Dada Jaan sat in his usual armchair, a cup of chai in hand. He looked up as I entered, his sharp eyes holding an amused glint.
"Ah," he mused, setting his cup down. "And here comes the storm before the storm."
I lowered myself into the seat across from him, exhaling. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Dada Jaan chuckled, shaking his head. "Not bad. Just expected. You always arrive before everyone else, yet the moment the house fills, you disappear into the shadows."
I didn't respond. He wasn't wrong.
For a while, we sat in comfortable silence. Then, he tilted his head, his gaze sharper than before. "You look uneasy."
I tapped my fingers against the chair's armrest. "I'm always uneasy."
"Hmm." He took a slow sip of chai. "No. This is different." A beat. "You met her."
I didn't move.
Didn't react.
But he saw it anyway.
Dada Jaan leaned back, watching me carefully. "And?"
And?
I wasn't even sure of the answer myself.
She wasn't what I expected.
I had known the name, the file, the circumstances. But knowing someone on paper and meeting them in person were two very different things.
