Aanya Rhodes Part 1: First Rain It started with the sound of rain. Not the polite kind that kissed rooftops and trickled down windowpanes, but the insistent, wild kind that arrived with thunder in its bones and an unspoken promise of upheaval. The kind of rain that didn’t ask before entering your life — it just came. Naina Joshi leaned against the polished wood of the café counter, her fingers curled around a half-empty ceramic mug, the cinnamon dust long settled. Outside, the street shimmered under the weight of the downpour. Mist swirled like secrets across the glass, blurring the…
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Vinita Sharma Part 1: The Letters No One Reads The café sat at the edge of the road like a forgotten comma in a long sentence. Half hidden by a wild bougainvillaea vine and mist that never quite left, “Yesterday’s Brew” had no signboard—just a brass bell that rang softly when someone entered and the scent of cinnamon and stories hanging in the air. Maya Singh wiped the counter with the same slow grace she applied to most things in life now. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, a silver strand peeking defiantly. She wore a mustard cardigan…
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Elina Thomas Part 1: Spring Will Not Ask Your Name The bus wound up the narrow road, wheels kissing the edge of the mountain like a daredevil child. Aanya sat by the window, her duffel bag pressed to her side like a comfort blanket. The sky outside was an impatient shade of blue, and the hills wore a fresh green robe, tender leaves swaying in spring wind. She hadn’t spoken a word in the six-hour journey from Chandigarh to Chail. Not to the conductor. Not to the woman beside her who smelled of boiled peanuts and turmeric. Words felt like…
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Rhea Dutt Part 1: The First Serve The first time Aarav saw Mira, she was smashing a shuttlecock across the net with such precision that it left her opponent frozen. It wasn’t love at first sight—not yet. It was something sharper. Intrigue. Aarav, the newly recruited assistant coach at St. Augustine Sports Academy, had arrived straight from the national training camp, carrying with him the calm confidence of someone who had nothing left to prove on the court. Mira, on the other hand, was fiery, competitive, and unapologetically ambitious. She didn’t notice him at first. Her focus was the tournament…
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Rhea Jha The conference room was freezing, or maybe it was just her hands that had turned cold. Aisha Kapoor adjusted the cuff of her blazer for the third time in five minutes, a nervous habit she thought she’d long abandoned. The team sat around the glass table, murmurs of speculation buzzing in the air—new leadership, potential restructuring, rumors about a merger. But all Aisha could focus on was the ticking clock on the wall, inching closer to ten. Her mind wasn’t in the present, not really. It was tangled somewhere between a finance report and a memory she had…
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Payel Sen The Return to the Hills The chill in the Darjeeling air always brought back memories for Atanu. As the toy train screeched into Ghum station, the soft drizzle on the windowpane blurred the world outside. He was forty-two now, with streaks of grey in his once-black hair and lines around his eyes that time had carved silently. A literature professor from Kolkata, he had returned to Darjeeling after two decades for a seminar. But deep inside, he knew it wasn’t just the seminar that drew him here. It was a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in years. Maya.…