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Radhika clutched her dupatta tightly with one hand while trying to balance her luggage with the other as she navigated through the chaotic Mumbai train station.

The loud symphony of trains arriving and leaving, vendor shouts, and constant chatter surrounded her, but her focus was on the flash of green darting ahead.

Mishi, her mischievous parrot, had managed to escape during the jostle of getting off the train from Coimbatore.

She had been attending medical college there and was now unexpectedly involved in a frantic chase through the station. Her silent calls were filled with urgency, her wide eyes scanning the bustling crowd for any sign of Mishi.

The parrot, clearly enjoying its newfound freedom, hopped from one perch to another, causing chaos wherever it went.

Navigating through the sea of people, Radhika struggled to keep up. At 5'3", she had to weave through the crowd, her modest height making it difficult to see over the mass of commuters. She caught fleeting glimpses of Mishi's bright feathers, shining in the sun filtering through the station's arched windows.

Her heart pounded not just from exertion but from the fear of losing her beloved bird in this vast, unfamiliar place.

She nearly collided with a fruit vendor, managing a quick, apologetic smile and gesture before swerving around his cart, but her eyes never left the rafters where Mishi was perched. Her hair, which she had meticulously tied before leaving, was now coming loose, strands falling into her face.

But she couldn't stop to fix it; her priority was Mishi. She continued her pursuit, hoping against hope that the bird wouldn't fly too far.

Mishi finally settled on a beam near the station's entrance, tilting her head as if taunting her. Radhika, panting and sweating, felt a flicker of hope.

She pushed through the crowd with renewed determination, narrowly avoiding a man with a stack of newspapers and a woman balancing a basket of vegetables. This bird, Radhika thought, shaking her head in exasperation.

It seemed Mishi enjoyed causing her trouble, hopping around like a green troublemaker. But she knew all too well that if anyone so much as tried to get close to her, Mishi would turn from a playful annoyance into a fierce protector, ready to peck at anyone who dared to come near her.

One step forward, and off Mishi goes, flitting to another beam just out of reach. Radhika sighed deeply, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to keep her eyes on the vibrant bird.

She maneuvered through the throng of people, her small frame making it easier to slip through gaps but harder to maintain a clear view of her feathery friend.

As she pushed forward, narrowly avoiding another collision with a hurried commuter, she spotted Mishi heading toward a familiar figure. Radhika's heart leaped with a mix of relief and anticipation as she recognized Aditi Hundia, her best friend.

Aditi, tall and graceful, stood out amidst the crowd. She wore a bright smile and her eyes sparkled with recognition and amusement as she saw the little green parrot making its way toward her. With a swift, practiced motion, Aditi extended her hand and Mishi landed gently on her finger, chirping happily.

Radhika slowed her pace, her frantic energy dissipating as she neared her friend. The sight of Aditi holding Mishi brought a wave of relief over her.

She finally allowed herself to breathe deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing. Aditi, with her usual warmth and cheerfulness, waved at Radhika, her smile widening.

As Radhika approached, Aditi carefully transferred Mishi back to her shoulder. She then turned her full attention to Radhika, her expression softening with concern. She could see the exhaustion and worry etched on Radhika's face.

Aditi reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Radhika's face and tucking it behind her ear. "Tu theek hai?" she asked, her voice filled with gentle concern. [Are you okay?]

Radhika nodded, her eyes conveying the reassurance that she was fine. She let out a silent sigh, her body relaxing slightly now that Mishi was safely back with her.

Aditi's eyes softened further, and she responded with a reassuring squeeze of Radhika's hand before tackling her into a tight hug.

"Ughh! Kitna miss kiya," Aditi exclaimed, her arms wrapped firmly around Radhika. [I missed you so much.]

Radhika smiled, feeling the warmth of Aditi's embrace. She patted Aditi's back gently, her silent laughter shaking her shoulders.

"Mama ko toh har time laga rehta tha, 'Radha kab wapas aa rahi hai? Meri bachi yeh, meri bachi woh.' Unki beti main hoon per ghar pe sab tere baare mein hi soch rahe the," Aditi said, rolling her eyes dramatically. [Mom was always like, 'When is Radha coming back? My girl this, my girl that.' I'm her daughter, but everyone at home was just thinking about you.]

Radhika laughed silently, her shoulders shaking with amusement. She teased Aditi with her expression, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Aditi grinned, feigning indignation. "Jealous? Main aur jealous? Kabhi nahi. Tumhare bina ghar ki saari boring baatein mujhe hi sunni padti thi," she teased. [Jealous? Me, jealous? Never. Without you, I had to listen to all the boring stuff at home.]

Radhika silently giggled, her shoulders shaking with amusement as her entire face lit up with delight. Her eyes playfully teased Aditi with a mischievous glint that conveyed more than words ever could.

Aditi grinned broadly, needing no words to understand her best friend. She feigned indignation in an exaggerated manner. "Jealous? Main aur jealous? Kabhi nahi," she declared with mock seriousness, her voice filled with playful defiance. "Tumhare bina ghar ki saari boring baatein mujhe hi sunni padti thi," she added, rolling her eyes dramatically to emphasize her point. [Jealous? Me, jealous? Never. Without you, I had to listen to all the boring stuff at home.]

Radhika raised an eyebrow playfully, her face adopting a look of challenge, and her doe-like eyes danced with humor, making her whole demeanor glow with happiness.

Aditi's eyes softened as she caught the playful glint in Radhika's eyes. "Ab main aa gayi hoon na," Aditi mimicked, imitating Radhika's silent words with her own playful tone. [Now I'm back.]

"Haan, finally! Ab itni masti karenge ki tu soch bhi nahi sakti. Aur yeh padhai vadhai sab band. Aaj tere saath reel bana ke hi maanungi," Aditi declared, her tone filled with determination. [Yes, finally! Now we'll have so much fun you can't even imagine. And no more studying. Today we'll make a reel together, no excuses.]

Radhika shook her head, a flush creeping onto her face. She gestured quickly, indicating that she would only stand in the background for Aditi's reels, her expression both amused and reluctant.

Aditi shook her head vigorously while she picked up Radhika's luggage. "Nahi madam, aisa nahi chalega. Tu bhi full on participate karegi. Humara next reel viral hona chahiye," she insisted, her enthusiasm infectious. [No madam, that won't work. You'll fully participate. Our next reel has to go viral.]

Radhika's eyes widened, and she gestured her reluctance to go viral, her hands moving quickly to express her wish to just head home quietly. She glanced around, as if hoping someone would rescue her from Aditi's determination.

Aditi laughed, slinging an arm around Radhika's shoulders as they walked towards the car. "Okay, okay, no pressure. Lekin ek chhoti si reel toh banti hai. Teri wapas aane ki khushi mein," she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. [Okay, okay, no pressure. But we should make a small reel, just to celebrate your return.]

Radhika sighed, smiling despite herself. She nodded once, holding up one finger to indicate that she agreed, but only for one reel.

"Chal ab ghar chalte hai, teri Aai subha se hi tera intezaar kar rahi hai," Aditi continued, her voice filled with warmth as she led Radhika towards the car. [Come on, let's go home, your mom has been waiting for you since morning.]

Radhika's eyes softened at the mention of her mother. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to spend as much time with her family during her medical studies.

Her family.

Radhika missed the way her Aai massaged her long hair with oil, her skilled fingers working out the knots and tension accumulated from long hours of study.

She missed the way her Aai would wake her up every morning with a kiss on her forehead, her soft voice calling her "Radha" in the most endearing way.

Radhika missed her Baba, who would make her coffee or tea whenever she had to pull all-nighters. Her Baba, who would sit beside her, reading his newspaper or a book, offering silent companionship during those long, quiet hours of the night. He had a way of making her feel less alone, just by being there.

Her Ritika vahini, who she adored and was a second mother to her, always there to give advice, a shoulder to cry on, or just a listening ear when things got tough.

Radhika missed their late-night chats about everything and nothing, the laughter they shared over silly jokes, and the warmth of Ritika's hugs that made everything seem better.

And of course, her mischievous little niece, Samaira, whose boundless energy and infectious laughter could brighten even the darkest of days. Radhika missed the way Samaira would run to her with open arms, her face lighting up with pure joy, and the way they would spend hours playing together.

But the person she missed the most was her Ro bhai. More than her parents' child, she was her Rohit bhai's Khargosh. Her Rohit bhai raised her like his first responsibility, treating her with a mix of protectiveness and affection that made her feel cherished and secure.

He was the one who gave her that nickname, always calling her "Khargosh" with a teasing smile because of her quick, bunny-like movements when she was little.

Rohit had been there for every important moment in her life, from her first steps to her first day at school, cheering her on with the same enthusiasm and pride. He was the one who had taught her how to tie her shoelaces, his big hands patiently guiding her tiny fingers through the loops until she could do it herself.

He had celebrated her victories, no matter how small, with genuine joy, and had been a comforting presence during her failures, always ready with a reassuring word or a comforting hug.

Radhika remembered the times when Rohit would come home late from his cricket practice, exhausted yet never too tired to listen to her chatter about her day. He would bring her small gifts, a chocolate bar or a new pen, even when he could've bought something to eat for himself.

During her school exams, Rohit would stay up with her, quizzing her on subjects he barely understood but learned just to help her study. He'd make her favorite late-night snacks, maggie and hot chocolate, fueling her study sessions with his quiet support.

One memory that stood out was when she had a fever right before her 10th-grade board exams. She had been determined to study, but Rohit had insisted she rest, taking care of her with a tenderness that melted her heart.

He'd read her textbooks aloud, his voice soothing and steady, so she could listen while lying in bed, a cold compress on her forehead. He'd even missed his own practice sessions, staying by her side until she felt better.

As they reached Aditi's car, Radhika's heart swelled with emotion.

She missed the way Rohit would ruffle her hair, call her "Khargosh" in that special tone that was just for her, and share stories from his cricket tours, making her feel like she was part of his adventures.

She longed for their late-night rooftop conversations, where they would lie under the stars and talk about everything from the meaning of life to which flavour of tooti frooti is best.

Aditi opened the trunk and helped Radhika with her luggage, her eyes falling on the sullen face of her friend.

"Kya hua, baby, tere sweetu se chehre pe yeh frown kaisa?" Aditi asked, her voice softening with concern as she took in the sight of her friend's downcast expression. [What happened, baby? Why is there a frown on your sweet face?]

Radhika shook her head at Aditi's words, trying her best to muster up a smile. But the way her hand flew up to her Lakshmi-Narayan pendant, clutching it tightly, spoke volumes about the sadness she felt. Her eyes, usually so bright and expressive, were clouded with a mix of fatigue and longing.

Aditi noticed the gesture and gently touched Radhika's shoulder, offering silent comfort. She then took a deep breath and smiled warmly. "Samajh gayi. Tujhe Rohit bhai ki yaad aa rahi hai na," she said softly. [I understand. You're missing Rohit bhai, aren't you?]

Radhika nodded slowly, her fingers still wrapped around the pendant. She glanced at Aditi, her eyes misting slightly, and then gave a small, grateful smile. The simple action spoke louder than any words could, conveying her deep sense of longing and the comfort she found in Aditi's understanding.

Aditi's heart ached for her friend. She knew how much Radhika relied on Rohit, how he had always been her anchor. With a determined nod, she said, "Theek hai. Phir ab hum pehle unse hi milke aayenge. Aaj unki practice thi, toh hum seedhe practice grounds hi chalenge." [Alright then. Let's go meet him first. He had practice today, so we'll head straight to the practice grounds.]

Radhika's eyes brightened at the suggestion, a flicker of gratitude visible in her expression. She squeezed Aditi's hand in thanks, her fingers communicating what words couldn't. Her posture relaxed a bit, the tension easing from her shoulders.

"Chal Mishi, ab good tota ban ke baith ja," Aditi said, gently placing the parrot back into its cage on the backseat. [Come on, Mishi, be a good parrot and sit quietly now.]

Mishi squawked in mild protest but settled down, ruffling its feathers. Radhika smiled, patting the cage lightly, her eyes conveying gratitude and affection for both her feathered friend and Aditi.

"And you. Tu sirf aaram se meri passenger princess banke baith ja," Aditi teased, starting the car with a playful smile. [And you. Just sit back and be my passenger princess.]

Radhika laughed silently, her shoulders shaking with amusement as she settled into her seat.

She was back. Back home in amchi Mumbai, where her heart always belonged. The familiar scents of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the distant sounds of honking horns and bustling crowds.

It was a sensory overload that brought a wave of nostalgia crashing over her. But it was all worth it, because yeh hai Bombay meri jaan.

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God, this strap and this doree are going to be the death of her. She should have known this kurti would be trouble.

The strapless kurti was beautiful and went really well with her jeans, but its troublesome straps were proving to be a challenge. The delicate fabric clung to her curves, making her look effortlessly elegant, but the undone back was a constant worry.

She could feel the cool air against her bare back and the slight sway of the loose ends of the strap as she moved.

This is the fifth time today that it has opened, and Radhika felt like taking it off and throwing it in the dustbin. Like, seriously. She thought about how she had spent extra time this morning getting ready, carefully selecting this outfit because it made her feel confident and stylish.

Now, she regretted her choice, wishing she had gone for something more practical and less nerve-wracking.

Aditi had already tied it twice, and now Radhika couldn't even ask Aditi for help because she had gone to get access to the practice grounds. She felt a mix of frustration and helplessness as she struggled to reach behind her back to tie the strap.

And now here she was, walking down the hallway with her doree undone. Each step made her more anxious, the loose fabric brushing against her skin and reminding her of how exposed she felt.

She glanced around nervously, hoping no one would notice her predicament as she made her way to a more secluded spot where she could try to fix it again.

The corridor was quiet, the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead the only sound breaking the silence. Radhika paused near a corner, her back pressed against the wall for some semblance of privacy.

She took a deep breath, twisting her arms awkwardly behind her to grab at the elusive straps. Her long hair kept falling over her shoulders, further complicating her efforts.

Why did she choose today, of all days, to wear this kurti? She could have worn something simpler, something that didn't require constant maintenance. The thought made her roll her eyes at herself, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Thank Madhav, no one was in the hall, she thought, a small sense of relief washing over her. She bit her lip, her fingers brushing against the cool fabric as she tried to catch the ends of the doree.

As she looked around, her eyes caught sight of the slightly ajar dressing room door a few steps away. Seeing an opportunity for some privacy, she hurried over and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

The room was empty, the soft hum of the air conditioner providing a soothing background noise.

It was a bubble from the chaos outside, with benches lined against the walls and mirrors reflecting the soft, diffused lighting.

Radhika exhaled deeply, feeling a sense of calm for the first time since her ordeal with the troublesome kurti began. She placed her bag on the bench and turned towards the mirror, carefully gathering her long hair and draping it over one shoulder.

She could see the loose curly ends of the strap hanging down her back, mocking her with their stubbornness.

She twisted her arms behind her once more, this time with a bit more determination, hoping that she could finally secure the strap.

Her fingers fumbled with the delicate fabric, the coolness of the mirror pressing against her bare back reminding her of the urgency to fix it.

Her thoughts wandered as she worked, thinking about how this kurti, which had seemed like such a good idea in the morning, had turned into a source of endless frustration.

She remembered the compliments she had received earlier. Now, all she wanted was for the day to end without any more wardrobe malfunctions.

As she continued her struggle, she could hear the muffled sounds of the practice session resuming outside. The distant cheers and shouts from the practice grounds were a stark contrast to the quiet, almost serene atmosphere of the dressing room. It was a strange juxtaposition that made her feel even more isolated in her small struggle.

Radhika let out a soft, frustrated sigh. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror for a moment, gathering her resolve.

She wasn't going to let a piece of fabric ruin her day. She straightened up and made one more attempt to tie the knot, her movements slower and more deliberate this time.

Just as she felt she might have succeeded, she heard the door creak open behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she froze, clutching the front of her kurti instinctively. No. No. No.

'Madhav, what kind of a day is this?' Radhika silently questioned her beloved deity, hoping for some divine intervention to salvage her dignity.

Turning her head slightly, she saw a tall figure step inside – a young man, his face a mix of surprise and confusion as he realized the room was occupied.

He was shirtless; that was the first thing Radhika noticed, and she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. His athletic frame glistened with a sheen of sweat, highlighting the defined muscles of his torso. His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, every muscle sculpted and toned from years of rigorous training.

His dark hair was damp, strands falling over his forehead, giving him a slightly tousled, boyish look that contrasted with his otherwise commanding presence.

The man, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of practice, exuded a quiet intensity that was impossible to ignore. His eyes, a deep, rich brown, held a mix of surprise and mild embarrassment as they met hers.

They were framed by long lashes that seemed almost out of place on such a masculine face, softening his features just enough to make him look approachable despite his imposing physique.

He had a strong jawline, slightly dusted with the beginnings of stubble, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise youthful appearance. His lips, slightly parted as he caught his breath, were full and expressive, hinting at a readiness to break into a smile despite the awkwardness of the moment.

Radhika's gaze, though involuntary, took in these details rapidly, her mind scrambling to process the sudden intrusion. The contrast between his powerful frame and the vulnerability in his eyes made the moment feel strangely intimate. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, her pulse thudding in her ears as the seconds stretched out.

The air seemed to thicken around them, charged with unspoken words and shared surprise. The quiet of the dressing room amplified the intensity of the encounter, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound breaking the stillness.

Neither moved nor spoke, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Radhika's breath hitched slightly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her kurti, while Shubman stood rooted to the spot, his expression a mixture of surprise and fascination. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that small, dimly lit room.

The moment stretched, heavy with a sense of something unspoken, something that neither of them could quite name. It was as if time had paused, holding its breath, waiting for the next heartbeat, the next intake of breath, the next shared glance.

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Hey, choozo!

Vote aur comment karke batana agar aacha laga toh. Agar story mein kuch chahiye toh bata dena.

Next chapter mein milte hai...tab tak keliye prem se bolo,

Radhe Radhe! 🙏🏻