The moon hung low in the midnight sky, its light cascading gently over the quiet hills. Kush sat by his easel, staring at the blank canvas before him, his brush hovering hesitantly. His heart whispered a familiar plea: "Dil kehta hai chal unse mil…" But every time he thought of taking a step toward Milli, his feet betrayed him, freezing in fear. "Uthte hai kadam ruk jaate hai," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves outside his window.

The memories of her—her laughter, her songs, the way her eyes lit up when she teased him—flooded his mind. How could he stand before her now, after all these years, with nothing but the remnants of unspoken feelings?

The sound of her voice from the past echoed in his thoughts. “Tumhare paintings kabhi kabhi tumhare dil ki baatein bol deti hai, Kush. Par kabhi apne words bhi use kar liya karo.”

Kush closed his eyes, his chest heavy with the weight of emotions he could no longer suppress. "Dil humko kabhi samjhata hai," he whispered, gripping the brush tighter, "hum dil ko kabhi samjhate hai." But how could he explain to his own heart that some distances couldn’t be crossed with just words or feelings?

The brush finally met the canvas, and with every stroke, he poured out what he couldn’t say to her in person. Somewhere far away, under the same moonlit sky, Milli sat by her window with her guitar, strumming a melody she couldn’t name but felt in every beat of her heart.

They were miles apart, yet their hearts beat to the same rhythm, tied by a love neither could fully understand—or escape.