Sarthak’s POV

The morning after Simran left, Jodhpur felt emptier.

Its not quiet - my house was never truly quiet with Mohit and Aryan around - but It strangely feels emptier, like someone had taken the warmth out of the air and left only echoes behind.

Her laughter had filled these walls in barely two days, and yet now, every time I passed the drawing room, I could still hear it - soft, hesitant, polite at first, and then full once she’d felt comfortable enough to smile openly.

I had never been someone who thought too much about emotions. I worked, came home, ate dinner, and helped my father with the company. But now, I found myself distracted - replaying moments that should’ve meant nothing and somehow meant everything.

Like the way she had said “Ji aunty” before my mother corrected her with a smile - “Beta, aab se mujhe Maa bulao.”

{“Yes aunty.” “Beta, you should call me maa now”}

Or the way she’d looked at me just before leaving & that brief pause before she sat in the car, eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t name then.

I noticed things, always had. But this time, noticing her didn’t feel like habit. It felt like need.

---

The evening she texted -Reached home safe. Thank you for everything, Sarthak.

I stared at the message longer than I should have.

I typed three different replies before settling on

“Glad you did. Everyone’s missing you here already.”

It sounded casual enough, but my heart raced like I’d just confessed something.

When she teased back, Everyone? I smiled despite myself.

“Maybe me too.”

This one simple line felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

---

Work didn’t help either. The next few days were full of site visits, meetings, and noise, but my mind wasn’t there. Every time my phone buzzed, my hand reached for it faster than it should have.

At lunch, my mother noticed. “Sarthak, beta, sab theek toh hai?”

{“Sarthak, beta, is everything alright?”}

“Haan Maa, sab theek hai.”

{“Yes mom, everything is fine.”}

“Pakka?” she said with a knowing smile. “Phone zyada dekh rahe ho aajkal.”

{“Are you sure? You are looking at your phone a lot these days.”}

Mohit laughed from across the table. “Love story shuru hone wali hai na, Maa issliye.”

{“The love story is about to begin, that's why mom.”}

I shot him a look that shut him up halfway, but my mother just smiled wider.

Inside, though, I couldn’t even deny it anymore.

---

I was on the balcony, the city lights stretching far out into the night. I had been debating whether to message her first, then I decided to call her directly.

I remember how my voice almost betrayed me - that slight rush of relief when I heard hers.

She teased me, of course. That came naturally to her.

“Aapko kaafi confidence hai apne upar,” she’d said, and I laughed - not because it was funny, but because her tone made me imagine the faint smile on her face.

{“You have a lot of confidence in yourself.”}

When I told her I’d missed her voice, there had been a pause. I could almost feel her heartbeat through the silence. And for the first time, I realized how powerful a pause could be - how sometimes, silence said everything words couldn’t.

We talked about small things - about work, her brother, my mother’s mango pickle obsession - but beneath it all, there was something else. A comfort that had no one of us name yet.

And then I told her what I’d noticed. The way she’d turned back before leaving. The way she’d smiled through her nervousness.

“I notice everything,” I said.

I hadn’t planned to say it - it just slipped out. But it was true. I noticed everything about her.

The way she fidgeted with her ring when she was shy. The way her voice softened when she spoke to her mother. The quiet confidence she carried, even in her hesitation.

When the call ended, I didn’t put my phone down immediately. I kept staring at her name on the screen — Simran.

It felt strange how easily she’d found a space in my world. Not as someone extraordinary or larger-than-life just as herself.

---

The next morning, I went to the site early. But as I stood there, half-listening to the workers talk about cement ratios and beam alignments, my mind was elsewhere.

I kept thinking about her laugh.

About how she said “Dekhte hain kaun kis ko tolerate karta hai” in that playful tone.

{“Let's see who tolerates whom.”}

I smiled to myself. The workers probably thought I’d gone mad.

By evening, I texted her again.

“Busy day?”

She replied after a few minutes.

“Not really. Just thinking about the wedding talks at home.”

“Excited?” I asked.

“More nervous than excited, she admitted. It feels so real now.

I stared at her message for a long time before replying -

“It’s supposed to feel real. That’s how you know it’s right.”

And I meant it.

---

Later that night, I sat outside with Mohit and Aryan, both of them lost in their own jokes. “Bhaiya,” Mohit said suddenly, “kya lagta hai shaadi ki date kab fix hogi?”

{“Brother, when do you think the wedding date will be fixed?”}

I smiled faintly. “Soon. Three months, maybe.”

Aryan whistled. “Bas teen mahine? Bhabhi aa rahi hai ghar!”

{“Just three months? Bhabhi is coming home!”}

I shook my head, pretending annoyance, but inside, I felt a light fluttering my chest.

Three months.

Ninety days.

Not too long. Not too short. Just enough to learn her voice, her habits, her smiles.

And somewhere between those days, maybe she’d learn mine too.

Hi love 💓

Kese hai aap sab..

Do follow me for more new chapters, like and comment so, I can get to know if are liking or not.

Do share the story...

Milte hai kal ek naye chapter ke sath...