chapter 1

I was really excited to write this chapter mere andar ki atama khud khud kar bhar aa rahi hai lekine ke liye .

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It's not about who wants you it's about who values you and respect you

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"Dadi ma!"
I heard an irritating voice. I closed my newspaper and turned to see that little brat. She looked at me, and I glared at her.

"How many times I told you to not call me Dadi ma, call me Di."
She looked at me and scoffed.

"Why should I call you Di? Haan? 200 saal ki ho aur Dadi boli toh bura lagta hai? Yahan baith kar aaram se chai pi rahi ho aur newspaper padh rahi ho, upar se koi kaam nahi karti ho. Kya tum koi princess ho kya?"
(Why should I call you Di? Huh? You look 200 years old, and you get offended if I say Dadi? Sitting here drinking tea, reading the newspaper, doing no work. Are you some kind of princess or what?)

I looked at her and said,
"You little brat! Iss pure khandan mein humne aap jaise dusht aur aise insaan kabhi nahi dekhe."
(In this whole family, I’ve never seen a wicked and disrespectful person like you.)

She looked at me and said,
"Toh ab dekh lijiye na. Main modern hoon. Pata nahi Papa aur mere purvaj aapko itna kyun sambhaal rahe hain. Main toh rent bhi lene wali thi, par Papa ne mana kar diya."
(Then look now! I’m modern. I don’t even know why Papa and our ancestors are taking care of you so much. I was going to take rent too, but Papa refused.)

I looked at her, and she went from there — not before slamming her hand on the table.

Not even she, I am also getting irritated from this world.

I looked outside — it was going to rain soon.

"Khushi," I called her. She looked at me through the counter and raised her brows. I shook my head and picked up a book, started reading.
There is not even fun in reading historical things anymore... because I have seen everything — from British rule to Mumbai’s terror attacks.

I looked outside and saw it was raining. A couple was standing while eating corn. I looked at them, scoffed, and said to khusi
"Aaj hum ghar nahi aayenge."
(I won’t come home today.)

Khushi stopped doing her work, looked at me, put the clothes back, and came toward me. She said,

"I am sorry."
I looked at her and raised my brows. She said again,

"I am sorry... mujhe aapse aisi baat nahi karni chahiye thi. Par dekhiye Di, aap chalo mere saath. I promise I will not repeat this."
(I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. But please Di, come with me. I promise I won’t do it again.)

I looked at her and said,
"It’s okay. Now go. I just want to stay alone today."

She held my hand and said,
"Aap naraz toh nahi ho na?"
(You're not angry with me, right?)

I shook my head. She went from there — not before kissing my cheek. I smiled. She left the room.

I was still sitting there, looking outside.

For me… everything is the same.
There is no tomorrow for me.
Time has stopped long ago.

I don’t wait for the future.
I only remember the past.

She went from there. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair.
This is what people never understand. And here I am—just wanting peace.
I don’t even remember who cursed me...
I only remember the reason.

And that reason is—

I killed someone’s love.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked down at my hands.

These are the same hands...
The same hands that took someone's beloved away.
These soft fingers carry the blood of heartbreak.

I huffed softly and walked outside.

Just then, I saw a small cat, thin and shivering under the bench. Without a second thought, I walked over and gently picked her up in my arms.

“Aap bhi akeli hain?”
(You’re alone too?) I whispered, holding her close to my chest as I brought her into my bookstore.

I was just about to fetch her some milk when I heard the screech of tires. A car was rushing toward me—fast.

I froze. I knew it.
The cat would die... but I wouldn’t.

So I hid her behind a box and stepped in the way.
And the car hit me.

“Chandra Diiii!”
I heard Khushi’s voice scream through the dark, trembling with fear as everything around me faded.
My eyes closed on their own, and the car disappeared into the night like a shadow.
No one saw. No one knew.

“Di! Di! Open your eyes!”
She somehow dragged me back inside the bookstore. Her hands trembling, she tore cloth to make a bandage and pressed against my bleeding head.

“Don’t worry... I won’t die,” I murmured.

She huffed through tears and hugged me tightly.

“Aapne mujhe daraa diya tha!”
(You scared me!)

I gently rubbed her back with one hand, calming her like a child.

“It’s common. Relax now,” I said softly.

She nodded slowly. I looked at her and asked,
“Aap ghar nahi gayi?”
(You didn’t go home?)

“Mujhe aapki chinta ho rahi thi... isiliye,”
(I was worried about you... that’s why.)

I smiled faintly, wiped her tears with the edge of my sleeve, and said,
“Ab jao... hum akelay rehna chahte hain.”
(Go now… I want to be alone.)

She looked at me and shook her head stubbornly.
“Main nahi jaungi.”
(I’m not going.)

I sighed. She hugged me again, tighter this time.
“Accha, theek hai.”
(Fine, okay.)
And then she slowly rested her head on my lap and fell asleep.

I looked down at her peaceful face.

She’s just a 19-year-old girl...
Yet she carries the weight of pain no one should bear.

Her father, Manik, is fighting cancer.
Her mother, Kirti, works day and night just to keep up with hospital bills.
And Khushi—she pretends to smile, pretends to be strong. But I see her breaking.

I want to help. I wish I could.
But I can’t.

Because I…
I am cursed to watch. Not to fix.

I don’t know what more cruelty God has planned...
But I know, this world doesn’t run on kindness.
It runs on survival.

And sometimes… even immortality feels like punishment.

I closed my eyes and somehow slept.
The weight in my chest didn’t vanish, but silence became my blanket for the night.

I woke up early the next morning.
The sky outside was still dim, the sun trying to rise but hidden under grey clouds.

Quietly, I sat up and looked at Khushi, still asleep on my lap.
I gently laid her down on the mattress nearby and covered her with a warm blanket.

Without making a sound, I walked toward the bathroom inside the bookstore.
After a quick shower, I wore my old but comforting kurti and salwar, draped my dupatta neatly over my shoulders, and stepped outside.

I unlocked the door of the bookstore café, and within minutes, the morning crowd started to trickle in.

Customers entered—some with tired faces, others chatting cheerfully, holding books in one hand and expectations in another.

I smiled faintly and began serving them their coffee and tea—one cup after another, one memory after another.

But even as I worked, something felt strange today.

A heaviness…
Not of sorrow, but of change.

I don’t know why…
But my heart was uneasy.

I paused for a second, rubbed my chest, and exhaled deeply.

Something is going to change.
I didn’t know whether to be scared… or ready.

But I picked up the next tray and went back to work—
Like I always have.

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So… how was the chapter? 😌
Hope you liked it!

Sharmao mat aur votes de do 😤💕 Okay now, bye-bye!

I know it was a short chapter, but I promise I’ll extend the story in the next one.
Think of this as just a little introduction—
The real story starts soon. Stay with me 🖤

Bye