Strings of Us

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The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, painting golden lines across the wooden floor of the penthouse.

Mehul stirred in bed, blinking slowly as unfamiliar comfort cradled him-soft pillows, fresh linen, and the faint scent of sandalwood in the air.

It took him a second to remember where he was.

Mumbai.

Shaurya ji.

Everything was real.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His kurta was slightly crumpled from sleep, and his hair was tousled, falling messily over his forehead.

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened slightly.

Shaurya stood there, already dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark grey trousers, sleeves rolled just enough to show his toned forearms. His watch gleamed under the morning light.

"Good morning," he said, voice deeper and rougher than usual-still carrying the drowsiness of the hour.

Mehul blinked, cheeks warming. "Good morning..."

Shaurya stepped inside with a small smile, placing a plate on the side table. "Nashte mein toast aur juice hai. Light rakha hai. Socha tumhara first time hai yeh shaher mein-hum thoda ghumte hain."

Mehul's eyes widened. "Bahar jaayenge?"

Shaurya nodded. "Haan. Tumhara first time hai. Kaise nahi dikhaunga tumhe yeh sheher?"

Mehul smiled, clutching the bedsheet tightly. "Main... tayyar ho jaun?"

Shaurya gestured to the wardrobe. "Maine kuch kapde rakhwa diye hain. Dekh lena kya pasand aata hai."

As Shaurya walked out, Mehul got out of bed, toes curling at the feel of the smooth floor. He slowly opened the wardrobe, eyes widening at the sight of neatly folded clothes-shirts, casual kurtas, jeans, even shoes lined up.

He picked a light blue shirt and black jeans, unsure but excited.
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An hour later, Shaurya and Mehul stepped into the private elevator. Mehul looked adorable in the oversized shirt, sleeves slightly long, hair now combed but still stubbornly soft.

He looked every bit like a boy discovering the world for the first time.

The car ride was filled with small silences and Mehul's awe-filled murmurs as he stared out the window.

"Yeh sab log... kahan ja rahe hain?" he asked, watching the crowd rush past.

Shaurya glanced at him. "Kaam, college, shopping... har kisi ki kahani alag hai."

Mehul nodded thoughtfully. "Sab kuch kitni tez hai..."

Shaurya smiled. "Aur tum thoda se slow ho. Shayad is sheher ko tumhari hi zarurat hai."

They started the day at Marine Drive.

Mehul stood at the edge of the promenade, wind ruffling his hair as waves crashed gently against the rocks. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Aankhon mein paani aa raha hai," he said, blinking fast.

"Wind ki wajah se," Shaurya murmured, watching him.

But it wasn't the wind, not entirely.

It was the strange feeling in Mehul's chest-the lightness, the joy, and the comfort of standing beside someone who made him feel seen.

Later, they walked around a mall-Shaurya insisted Mehul at least try on a few shoes and clothes. Mehul resisted at first but soon was laughing, holding onto Shaurya's arm every time he tripped in the changing room.

Shaurya didn't mind. In fact, he smiled more today than he had in months.

But then, something shifted.

At a small café inside the mall, a girl behind the counter recognized Shaurya.

"Sir? Oh my god, you're Shaurya Singh, right? From Evara?"

Shaurya offered a polite nod. "Yes."

She smiled, clearly starstruck. "I'm such a fan of your brand. Do you come here often?"

Mehul watched quietly as the girl leaned forward, tucking her hair behind her ear, voice getting softer. "Would you like to try our new caramel frappe? It's... special. Just like you."

Shaurya's expression remained neutral. "No, thank you. Just two cold coffees."

The girl pouted slightly but nodded.

Mehul remained silent through the interaction, a strange twist forming in his stomach.

He didn't understand the feeling fully-was it insecurity? Jealousy?

He didn't say anything until they walked away with their coffees.

Shaurya noticed his silence.

"Sab theek?" he asked.

Mehul took a sip, eyes on the floor. "Woh ladki... aap se baat kar rahi thi... alag tareeke se."

Shaurya arched an eyebrow. "Kya matlab?"

"Jaise... jaise woh aapko pasand karti ho," Mehul mumbled, fingers tightening around the cup.

Shaurya paused.

Then he chuckled softly.

"Mehul," he said, stopping and turning toward him, "Tumhe lagta hai main usme interested tha?"

Mehul shrugged. "Pata nahi... aap toh sabse ache lagte ho... toh sabko pasand toh aap aate honge..."

Shaurya took the cup from his hand and placed it aside. His voice was low and firm now.

"Sunna chahte ho sach?"

Mehul looked up.

Shaurya stepped closer, just a breath away.

"Mujhe kisi aur mein interest kabhi tha hi nahi. Na pehle, na ab," he said. "Tum pehli baar ho jisko maine apni zindagi mein itna space diya hai."

Mehul's eyes widened, lips parting slightly.

Shaurya didn't wait for a response. He gently brushed his knuckles against Mehul's cheek.

"Toh agle baar jab koi flirt kare na, bas yaad rakhna-Main. sirf. tumhara. hoon."

Mehul stood frozen, his cheeks slowly turning pink.

His heart felt like it would burst from his chest.

"Main... main aap ke layak nahi hoon..." he whispered.

Shaurya's gaze softened. "Tum meri zindagi ke sabse khoobsurat hisse ban gaye ho, Mehul. Usse jyada layak kya hota hai?"

There was silence.

Not the awkward kind.

But the kind that speaks more than words.

That night, as they returned home, Mehul walked ahead, still thinking about those words, fingers brushing the spot where Shaurya had touched his cheek.

Shaurya watched him with an unreadable look, the shadow of a smile playing at his lips.

And in that moment, neither of them knew-

But something inside both hearts had shifted forever.

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