Noor may not have won the gala, but she won hearts worldwide. She was the designer everyone wanted. Her name was on everyone's lips, and the demand for her designs soared. Orders poured in from around the globe, and she had to expand her staff to keep up. There was chaos outside her boutique on special occasions, with even more customers than usual on a regular day.

Noor craned her neck as she stitched a new order, her left leg pulled up to her chest, tongue darting out in concentration as she poured every ounce of determination into her work. Her parents were so delighted by her achievement of being in the top two at the gala that they threw a huge party at their house. The Gills were there, too-everyone except for him, wherever he was.

Noor had little interest in the party and had told her mother not to waste money on such things. But her mother didn't listen this time; it was an occasion worth celebrating and an opportunity to show up Pammi Aunty, who never missed a chance to flaunt Tavleen's accomplishments.

Noor remembered sitting in a corner during the party, munching on snacks and sketching designs in her Punjabi suit. Her mother wasn't very happy about her attire, as she had wanted Noor to glam up for the celebration.

Because everything seemed futile without him. Noor had money, fame, and every luxury she could imagine, except for one thing: his love. Setting the cloth aside, she rubbed her tired eyes and glanced at the clock-it was 12:30 in the morning. She knew she needed more staff soon, as the late-night work was beginning to take a toll on her health. But for now, she had to finish her tasks before finding more skilled workers. Feeling the need to stretch, she stood up and moved to the other end of the room, where she retrieved a piece of clothing she had hidden away. Sitting down on her workstation, Noor stretched her legs and began working on the cloth, focusing on her escape from the chaos surrounding her.

The boutique was bathed in a soft, amber light, casting a tranquil glow over the neatly arranged fabrics and sewing tools. Noor sat at her workstation, her gaze fixed intently on the delicate threads weaving through the fabric. Each stitch was meticulous as if every needle prick carried love in her veins.

Her hands moved with practised ease, but her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions held beneath the surface. She sewed his face into the fabric, capturing every contour and expression. The smile that still lit up her world, the intensity in his eyes were all there, frozen in time, but now for someone else.

"Kad tak karoge, Didi, eh sab?" The voice of Parminder interrupted her reverie. ( "Till when will you do this, sister?" )

Noor looked up, her expression unreadable, as if guarding a secret buried deep within "Jad tak ohnu yaad nahi aundi ke mein usde dil haan." she murmured, her words carrying a hint of melancholy. ( "Until he remembers that I am in his heart.")

With a final, deliberate stitch, she completed the portrait. Her fingers lingered on the fabric, tracing the outline of his face. The cloth now held more than just a likeness; it held a story of love, loss, and a longing for what once was.

As she gently caressed the embroidered image, a faint smile tugged at her lips-a smile tinged with both sadness and determination.

~~~~

Mohali's streets lay quiet and empty at one in the morning as Shubman rode his bike, letting the cold January wind hit his face. He weaved through the silent lanes, trying to find the missing piece of himself, and ended up in front of her house. He turned off the engine and looked at her window. The lights were off; she was likely asleep. It had been days since she blocked him, days since he last saw her. Even though he could have gone to the house party, he stayed away, not wanting to see her tearful eyes begging for a love he couldn't remember.

He shut his eyes tight, trying to push away the memories, then looked away and got back on his bike. He headed to the late-night ice cream shop they used to sneak off to together. The shopkeeper recognized him immediately and handed him their favourite chocolate ice cream loaded with chips. The shopkeeper frowned as he noticed Shubman alone on the bike; it was unusual not to see the girl with blue eyes waiting eagerly for her ice cream.

As Shubman took a bite of his ice cream, the familiar taste brought a wave of emotions over him. Bitter tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. The shopkeeper, noticing his distress, asked gently, "Why isn't she with you tonight?"

Shubman wiped his tears with the back of his hand, taking another bite of his ice cream. "Because I left her that night," he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret.

The shopkeeper bit his lips, unsure whether to say it or not but decided to go for it anyway. "I don't mean to intrude in your personal life, but know this, young man: the girl who was there in your darkest nights deserves to be there on your brightest mornings."

The shopkeeper began shutting his shop, adding, "I'll call it a night here, but do think on my words."

Shubman nodded, throwing away the wrapper and wiping his nose. He drove away into the darkness, planning to keep another ice cream in the fridge for Shahneel to have later. As he passed by Noor's boutique, he suddenly applied the brakes, noticing the light on inside. Curiosity and concern flickered in his mind, compelling him to pull over and take a closer look.

He moved inside through the half-opened shutter, knowing he might be met with anger. Still, he decided to go in anyway, driven by a longing to see her blue eyes and find some peace in his heart by looking at his favourite sight.

As Shubman stepped into the room, he saw Noor stitching some orders alone. His heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. He managed to call out, "Noori," his voice trembling slightly.

Noor turned around, her hair neatly plaited with a stray strand falling over her eyes. The emotions he had expected to see on her face were absent; instead, she greeted him with a neutral expression. Rolling her eyes in mild exasperation, she turned back to her work, clearly focused on the task at hand.

Shubman sat down next to her, his body trembling with emotion. As he reached out to tuck the stray strand of hair behind her ear, Noor's hand shot up to stop him.

"Don't touch me," she said firmly, her voice laced with hurt. "You have no right to do that anymore."

Shubman's tears welled up as he tried to speak, but Noor's tired eyes and low voice cut him off. "And please don't start again with needing to understand," she said, her voice steady but weary.

"Everyone has a limit, and I'm done with mine. Just like your mind can't accept things right now, mine and my heart are in agreement: you're not welcome anymore. That's it."

"Noori," Shubman sobbed, "you can't ask me to choose."

Noor looked up at him, her tears welling up. "I'm not asking you," she said softly. "I'm making it easier for you. Go to Ghazal and find your best friend in her because this one has resigned. I waited for years, months, and days, but now I don't have the strength. Trust me, I could wait my whole life, but you won't be able to. So if you feel so strongly, move on. Please don't stay in between."

Shubman cried out, gripping her arm desperately. "You can't do this! You can't make decisions like this!"

Noor gently removed his hand, her voice steady but weary. "It can't always be about you. I need to be selfish for once. I can't keep hanging by a thread, hoping you might see. I'll wait for you until my last breath, and if you remember, you can return to me anytime. My arms will always be open. But for now, Shubman, please leave. It would be better for both of us and no arguments-I'm tired of them."

Shubman stood up, leaving the ice cream next to her. As he hastily exited the boutique, his mind was a mess. He knew he needed to be in the right mental state for the upcoming tour, and seeing Noor so lifeless was unbearable. Running his fingers through his hair and wiping his face of sweat and tears, he made up his mind. He would go to London and visit all the places from Noor’s designs. If his memories weren’t coming back willingly, he would dig them out. No matter how much he had denied it, he knew his Noori was not a liar.