Chapter 1

AANYA

The fair always felt too loud for her thoughts.

Bright stalls, blaring music, people pushing past each other-chaos in motion. Aanya walked through it like someone wading through a dream, her cotton suit fluttering in the evening breeze, her fingers still faintly ink-stained from that morning's notes.

She wasn't here for fun; she was here because Harsh had dragged her out with the bribe of jalebis.

Now he was gone-vanished with friends, predictable-and she was left wandering, observing people out of habit.

The vendor on the left is overcharging, she noted.

The woman in the blue saree is negotiating out of pride, not need.

The boy near the balloon stand is pretending he isn't scared of the loudspeaker.

She tilted her head, analyzing.

And that's when she heard it.

A soft, trembling hiccup.

Aanya turned.

A small boy stood alone near the toy stalls, eyes swollen with panic, clutching a tiny broken whistle. His breath came out in uneven bursts.

Aanya's heart tightened.

She knelt so she was eye-level with him.

"Saans lo. Dheere." Her voice lowered, warm, steady. "Naam batao."

The boy wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"R-Rohit."

"Rohit," she repeated gently. "Kahan dikhe the papa-mama?"

He shook his head and burst into louder sobs-tiny body trembling, terrified.

Aanya pulled him into her arms, letting him clutch her dupatta.

Poor thing must feel like the world just disappeared under his feet.

She rubbed his back softly.

"We'll find them. Promise."

She stood, holding the boy's hand... but just as she turned-

A voice cut through the noise like steel slicing through silk.

"Yahan koi bachcha kho gaya hai?"

Aanya froze.

Not because of the words-because of the tone.

Raw. Irritated. Frustrated.

Carrying the kind of anger that wasn't directed outward, but inward... at himself.

She turned toward the voice.

And saw him.

A tall man in a white kurta, sleeves rolled up, chest rising with agitation. His jaw clenched so tight she could practically hear the restraint. His gaze swept the crowd like a storm searching for land.

And then he spotted the boy.

Relief flickered across his face-so fast only someone like her would notice.

Interesting, she thought.

Very interesting.

---

VEER

He was going to kill Raghav.

Not literally. Just figuratively. Maybe aggressively.

He had told Raghav to watch the kid for two minutes.

Two minutes.

And the kid had vanished in less than thirty seconds.

Now Veer was inhaling dust and rage as he tore through the fairgrounds.

"Rohit!" he called again, panic rising in his throat.

And then he saw him.

Safe. In someone's arms.

Veer exhaled sharply-relief flooding him with such force it almost weakened his knees.

But then his eyes lifted-

And got stuck.

A girl stood there, holding the boy's hand.

A girl in a soft cotton suit, jasmine scent drifting in the air around her, spectacles reflecting the fair lights. Her posture was calm, protective. Her expression was unreadable... except for the slightest tilt of her head, as if she was studying him.

Studying me?

His ego bristled instantly.

Who does she think she is? Looking at me like she knows something?

He stepped forward.

Rohit ran to him instantly, burying his face in Veer's kurta.

Veer's anger softened-only around kids did it ever soften-but he didn't want anyone noticing that.

Especially not her.

He forced his voice gentle for the boy.

"Arre hero, main yahin hoon. Dekh."

The boy clung harder.

When Veer looked up again, the girl's eyes were already on him.

Calm. Perceptive. Too perceptive.

He felt exposed under that gaze, and that made the anger rise again.

"Thanks," he said curtly.

Too curtly.

Her eyebrows lifted a millimeter-barely visible, but enough to tell him she caught the tone.

Of course she did.

---

AANYA

She was used to observing people.

But she wasn't used to feeling observed back.

The man-Veer, if she remembered correctly from something her father once said-was staring at her like he wasn't sure whether to thank her or scold her.

She gave a small, patient smile.

"He was scared," she said. "Thoda sa dhyaan chook jaaye toh-"

"I didn't lose him," Veer snapped automatically.

Aanya blinked.

Ah. Ego.

Strong ego. Irritated ego.

This would be interesting.

She pushed her spectacles up her nose, unbothered.

"Maine kab bola ki aapne kho diya?"

He stiffened.

She tilted her head again-her unconscious habit-observing the way his jaw clenched harder.

"You get angry quickly," she murmured, almost to herself.

Veer inhaled sharply, like she'd poked a bruise.

Then came the line she predicted.

"Chhori, tu dimaag chalati bohot hai."

But it didn't sound mocking.

It sounded... unsettled.

"I told you," she said softly, "Sochna mera kaam hai."

His eyes darkened-an unreadable mix of irritation and... something else.

Something warm.

---

VEER

She was impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

How could a stranger walk into his mess of emotions and summarize him like she was reading a paragraph?

"You get angry quickly," she'd said.

He wanted to deny it.

He also wanted to walk away.

Instead, he stood there, feeling like she'd peeled him open.

"What, you read everyone like this?" Veer muttered, defensive.

"Only the ones who're easy to read," she replied.

His ego flared-hard.

Easy? Me?

He ran a hand through his hair-damn it, nervous habit-and looked away in frustration.

"Main bhaag nahi raha..." he muttered, mostly to himself, "Bas sambhal raha hoon."

He regretted the honesty the second it slipped out.

Her expression softened.

He hated how that felt.

---

AANYA

Then the dramatic shift came.

A woman's desperate cry.

"Rohit! Mere bachche!"

The mother crashed into the scene, tears streaming, hysteria first and gratitude second.

Aanya immediately knelt beside her, guiding her breathing, helping her calm enough to speak.

Veer stayed protectively in front of the child, shielding him instinctively.

They worked together without speaking.

As if they'd done it before.

When the mother finally embraced her son, thanking both of them, Aanya stepped back quietly.

Veer didn't.

He watched her.

Closely.

Too closely.

She felt the weight of his stare even before he spoke.

---

VEER

She was leaving.

Why did that bother him?

He didn't even know her.

He didn't even want to know her.

...Right?

"A-"

The sound escaped him before he could stop it.

She paused, turning slightly, jasmine brushing the air.

"Naam batati?" he asked, voice lower than he intended.

She pushed her spectacles again-nervous habit? adorable habit?-and answered:

"Aanya."

He waited.

She added softly:

"Aanya Malik."

He nodded, pretending it meant nothing.

Pretending he wasn't memorizing it.

She walked away in the golden dusk, her figure fading into the crowd.

Veer didn't realize he was staring until-

"Bhai... tu us chhori mein fas gaya. Seedhi baat."

Raghav smirked beside him.

Veer glared.

Hard.

But he didn't deny it.

Couldn't deny it.

He just muttered under his breath,

"Bakwas band kar."

And yet...

His eyes drifted back to where Aanya had disappeared.

---

AANYA

She didn't look back.

But she was smiling.

Just a little.

The kind of smile that came when a puzzle was interesting.

When a person was layered enough to study.

When someone's eyes held storms and softness at the same time.

He avoids eye contact when he feels too much.

She wrote that mental note down in her mind.

Anger outside. Warmth inside. Ego everywhere.

Aanya Malik didn't believe in destiny.

But she believed in patterns.

And Veer Singh Rathore was definitely a pattern she wouldn't forget.

***

Chapter 2

AANYA

The fair looked different now.

Same noise, same colours, same chaos—but Aanya felt… quieter inside. The kind of quiet that follows after something significant happens, even if you cannot name it yet.

She walked toward the exit, the evening breeze brushing jasmine across her senses. Her fingers drifted to her diary tucked under her arm, but she didn’t open it yet.

Her mind was already writing.

Veer Singh Rathore.

The name echoed like a stone dropped into still water, creating ripples that touched everything else.

She replayed the moment he’d looked at her like she’d caught him off guard—like she’d read something he hadn’t meant to show. Most people hid their feelings; Veer strangled his. His anger, his guilt, his gentleness with the child… all layered like tightly shut doors.

Her lips curved.

He thinks he’s complicated.

But complication didn’t scare her.

It interests me.

She sighed, adjusting her dupatta.

He had a presence—heavy, storm-like. The kind that makes the air charged without raising its voice. And yet, despite his anger and frustration, he hadn’t once been cruel. Just… conflicted.

And then there was the look he gave her when she walked away.

Not attraction.

Not admiration.

Recognition.

As if she’d become a problem he needed to solve.

Aanya pushed her spectacles up and finally opened her diary.

She wrote:

“He avoids eye contact when he feels too much.”

“Anger shields vulnerability.”

“Strong loyalty. Strong ego. Strong everything.”

She paused.

Then, almost shyly, wrote one more line:

“Interesting man.”

She closed the diary before she could overthink it.

---

VEER

He was still staring at the empty space where she had disappeared.

Raghav had left to get lemonade, thankfully, because Veer needed silence. Not the world’s silence—his own. Inside, everything was loud. Too loud.

Rohit’s mother had thanked him again before leaving. But that wasn’t the moment stuck replaying in his head.

It was her.

Aanya Malik.

The way she’d looked at him—straight, calm, seeing everything. He hated that. Or he should have hated that. He wasn’t sure anymore.

Veer dragged a palm down his face.

She thinks she can read me. Just like that.

Easy, she said.

His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Nobody read him.

Nobody could.

Not his father, who only saw discipline.

Not the world, which only saw his temper.

Not even Raghav, who understood him but didn’t always see through him.

But she—

Damn that girl.

He remembered her soft voice telling him, “Dil bohot naram hai aapka.”

And the way it hit him straight in the chest.

“You don’t know me,” he muttered under his breath, walking toward the exit even though she was long gone. “Tum kya samjhegi?”

He hated the twist in his stomach.

He hated how his fingers kept replaying her name.

But more than that…

He hated that she wasn’t wrong.

---

AANYA — LATER THAT NIGHT

The house was quiet.

Her mother was humming while folding clothes, her father reading a book on the veranda, and Harsh loudly recounting how he’d “saved a kid” today—claiming credit for absolutely nothing.

Aanya sat on her bed, diary open again.

Why am I still thinking about him?

She shut her eyes.

Because he was… unexpected.

Most men tried to impress.

Veer tried to guard himself.

Most men hid behind ego.

Veer was ego—but not hollow ego. He wasn’t arrogant, just… protective of himself, like vulnerability was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Aanya exhaled slowly and wrote:

“His anger is fear in disguise.”

“He carries a weight I don’t understand yet.”

Then she hesitated before adding:

“He looked at me like… he wasn’t ready for me.”

She snapped the diary shut when she realized she was smiling.

---

VEER — THAT SAME NIGHT

Veer couldn’t sleep.

His room felt too small, too restless. He lay back on his charpai, staring at the ceiling, replaying the way Aanya had pushed her spectacles up before telling him exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

Raghav’s voice echoed:

“Bhai… tu us chhori mein fas gaya.”

Veer grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at the wall.

“I’m not stuck,” he muttered.

“I just… she irritated me. Bas.”

But his mind betrayed him.

He kept seeing her kneeling next to the lost boy, speaking softly.

He kept hearing her calm voice saying, “Sochna mera kaam hai.”

He kept feeling that strange pull in his chest when she’d walked away.

He growled into his hands.

What is wrong with me?

He’d never met someone who dug under his skin so fast.

He didn’t like it.

No—he hated it.

But beneath that anger, beneath that ego, something else simmered.

Something he couldn’t name.

Something he didn’t want to name.

He turned on his side and forced his eyes shut.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Because every time he drifted close, he saw her eyes again.

Calm. Knowing. Too knowing.

And something inside him whispered—

She’s going to be trouble.

---

AANYA

She finally drifted to sleep with her diary resting beside her.

The last thought in her mind:

He’s angry at himself. Not at me.

And something about that made her heart feel warm.

Too warm.

---

VEER

He slept only after convincing himself he would never meet her again.

A lie he already knew wouldn’t hold.

Because fate—whether he liked it or not—had a habit of bringing storms and calm together.

And she…

She was calm.

Calm enough to shake him.

***

Chapter 3

VEER

Ignoring her should have been easy.

Veer had ignored plenty of things in his life-problems, emotions, entire festivals. But this? This was different.

Ever since the fair, his mind kept circling back to Aanya Malik like a stubborn wheel hitting the same stone again and again.

She thinks she knows me.

She thinks she can read me.

She thinks-

He stopped himself before the thought could finish.

For the last two days, he'd been trying to erase her from his head.

He'd taken extra shifts.

Worked out until his muscles screamed.

Avoided Raghav entirely because that idiot kept grinning at him like he knew something.

And still...

Still her calm voice echoed at the back of his mind.

"Dil bohot naram hai aapka."

He flinched.

"No," he muttered aloud, dragging a crate into the workshop with more force than necessary. "She doesn't know anything."

But even as he slammed the crate down, his chest tightened.

Because he remembered her eyes.

He remembered how she didn't look away.

He remembered how he had.

"Useless," he growled at himself, grabbing a wrench.

Trying to ignore Aanya was like trying to ignore a splinter-small, quiet, but impossible not to feel.

---

AANYA

Aanya balanced her books against her hip as she stepped out of the library, the afternoon sun warming her cotton suit. She felt more peaceful today-her thoughts settled like pages organized into neat categories.

Until the wind shifted.

A faint scent of engine oil and sandalwood drifted her way.

She froze.

Only one person she knew smelled like a workshop and incense at the same time.

No. Impossible.

He wouldn't be here.

She took a slow breath, tilting her head out of instinct.

And then she saw him across the street.

Veer Singh Rathore.

White kurta, sleeves rolled up, sunlight brushing the hard lines of his face. He was standing by his bike, arguing with Raghav about something-well, "arguing" was generous. Veer looked two seconds away from strangling him.

Aanya's heart did a slow, inconvenient flip.

So much for ignoring thoughts.

She shouldn't stare.

She shouldn't feel this tiny spark in her chest.

She definitely shouldn't wonder if he'd noticed her-

Veer's gaze suddenly lifted.

And found her.

It hit like a physical force-unexpected, unguarded. For a moment, Aanya forgot to breathe.

Veer looked away immediately.

Too quickly.

Too stiffly.

He remembers me.

She felt her smile threatening to appear, so she hid it behind her books.

---

VEER

God needed to explain why she kept appearing in front of him.

He was in the middle of lecturing Raghav when something pulled his attention-like a tug on an invisible thread.

He looked up.

And there she was.

But he did NOT freeze.

He did NOT stare.

He absolutely did NOT feel anything in his stomach.

...Okay, maybe he froze a little.

Aanya Malik stood at the library steps, sunlight catching her hair, spectacles slightly slipping down her nose as she observed him-tilted head, soft gaze, the same expression that made him feel peeled open.

Veer whipped his eyes away immediately.

Raghav noticed.

"Bhai, tu-"

"Shut up."

"I didn't even-"

"Shut. Up."

Veer tried to focus on the bike. On the dust. On literally anything else. But his mind betrayed him, whispering:

She looks calmer today.

She's... smiling?

At me?

He clenched his jaw.

No. I'm not doing this.

But the air felt thicker. His heartbeat faster. His anger sharper, not at her, but at himself.

Why couldn't he ignore her?

He was stubborn.

He was disciplined.

He had controlled worse things than this.

So why not her?

Because she wasn't loud.

She wasn't dramatic.

She wasn't chasing him.

She was simply... present.

Calm enough to unsettle him.

And it infuriated him more than he wanted to admit.

---

AANYA

Aanya stepped off the curb, crossing the road slowly, deliberately. She didn't intend to talk to him-not exactly. But she wasn't going to pretend she didn't see him either.

She approached with quiet confidence, adjusting her books against her chest.

Veer kept his eyes on the bike.

He was pretending so hard not to see her that it was almost adorable.

"Good afternoon," she said softly.

Veer flinched.

Just slightly.

Just enough.

Raghav coughed loudly to hide his laughter.

Veer shot him a death glare before muttering, "Afternoon," without looking up.

Aanya tilted her head.

"You're ignoring me."

Veer stiffened. "Main- nahi. Main busy hoon."

"You weren't before I came."

His jaw twitched.

Raghav stepped back, whispering, "Main gaya, bhai. Good luck," before fleeing the scene.

Now it was just the two of them.

Veer exhaled sharply, finally forced to face her.

"You always talk like you know everything," he said, irritation lining his words.

"No," she replied calmly. "I talk like I notice things."

He swallowed.

Her gaze was steady.

Too steady.

His pulse stuttered.

"Like what?" he challenged softly, stubbornness rising.

Aanya's eyes softened.

"Like the fact that you tried very hard not to look at me," she whispered.

Silence.

Veer felt heat coil in his chest-anger, embarrassment, something else he refused to name.

"It's not- I'm not-"

He gritted his teeth. "Stop analysing me."

She smiled. Small, disarming, knowing.

"Then stop being so easy to read."

Veer's breath hitched.

Her tone wasn't mocking.

It wasn't superior.

It was... gentle.

And that was worse.

Aanya began walking past him.

But then she paused near his shoulder and murmured:

"Try as much as you want, Veer... ignoring me won't work."

He felt the earth tilt under his feet.

Before he could respond, she walked away-calm, composed, leaving jasmine in the air and chaos in his chest.

Veer stared after her, helplessly, furiously, silently.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself.

He wasn't stuck.

He wasn't interested.

He wasn't-

...he absolutely was.

***

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