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The Price of Love by SACHIN BIDWE

The document narrates the story of Arrav, a shy young man from a humble background, who aspires to become an editor despite financial constraints. With the support of his family, particularly his father, he decides to pursue his dream by joining an editing class in Mumbai. The story highlights themes of family bonds, determination, and the pursuit of one's passions.

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
101 views133 pages

The Price of Love by SACHIN BIDWE

The document narrates the story of Arrav, a shy young man from a humble background, who aspires to become an editor despite financial constraints. With the support of his family, particularly his father, he decides to pursue his dream by joining an editing class in Mumbai. The story highlights themes of family bonds, determination, and the pursuit of one's passions.

Uploaded by

rdavdpractice
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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About the author.

My name is Sachin R Bidwe

I have completed my graduation in B.Com and am


currently preparing for banking exams. Inspired by my
sister, I decided to explore my creative side and began
writing. I believe in expressing emotions through
words and connecting with readers through heartfelt
stories. Writing has become not just a passion but
also a way to stay motivated during my exam
preparation journey.
Sachin is a passionate storyteller who writes emotional love stories. He believes in the
power of dreams, family bonds, and true love that transforms lives.

provide me feedback http://[email protected]

Telegram http://t.me/Sachin_Bidwe
Arrav Belonged to an ordinary family. He had just
completed his graduation in B.A. and was a very shy
person. He had one dream to achieve — he wanted to
become an editor because he loved editing photos and
making wedding videos on his mobile. He wanted to follow
his passion and move ahead in life.

One day, he thought about joining an editing class in the


city, but his financial condition was not good. His father
was a farmer who had only one acre of land, so Aarav
couldn’t afford to join the class. Still, he decided to ask his
father for permission to join an editing class in another city.

That night, Arrav told himself he would share his feelings


with his parents and ask for their permission to follow his
dream. With this thought, he went to bed.

Arrav had two sisters — their names were Shruti and


Payal. Shruti had completed her 12th in the Commerce
stream and had decided to take admission in a typing
institute. She had a perfect plan for what to do next. She
wanted to become a banker and change their parents'
lives. Payal was in the 9th class; she was very smart and
astute.

Our parents wanted us to learn more and become


successful officers. They had high hopes for us. To
support our education, my father had taken a loan of 5
lakh rupees. Finally, Arrav made up his mind to talk to
them about his future plans.

The next morning, Arrav woke up early. His father was


watching television, and his mother was making tea for
both of us. Shruti and Payal hadn’t woken up yet. Aarav
took a seat near his father, but he was shivering and
looked very worried because he kept thinking, “What if my
dad refuses my plan?”

Suddenly, his father broke his thoughts and asked, “What


are you thinking? You look so worried. What happened?”

“Dad, I have to tell you something about my career,” Arrav


said.

Dad: “Go ahead, beta. Tell me your plan. And don’t


hesitate — I’m your friend.”

Arrav felt proud to have such a humble and kind father.


His dad's words gave him the courage to speak freely.
“Dad, I’ve decided to join an editing class in the city. I want
to become an editor. So, could you give me permission?”
Arrav asked.

Dad: “Why not, beta? You can do whatever you want in


life. I’m always with you. Go ahead and follow your
passion.”

Arrav hugged his father tightly and said, “I’m so lucky,


Papa. You always stand by me.”

Then, suddenly, Arrav asked, “But Dad, what about the


fees? I think the editing class fee is 6,000 rupees. How will
you manage it?”

Dad: “Don’t worry about the money. I will arrange it.”


Then Mom came with tea and said, “What are you both
discussing?”

My dad told her everything. She came close to me and


said,
“Do whatever you want, but always remember your
father's struggles. He has always dreamed big for you.
Work hard and move ahead. I’m always with you.”
We finished our tea. Dad went to the farm, and Mom
started making aloo parathas for us.
Then I saw that Shruti and Payal were still sleeping.

Arrav wanted to play with his sisters. He went to the


kitchen, took a glass of water, and went to the room where
Shruti and Payal were sleeping. He saw that their faces
were covered with a blanket. Then he ran to their bed,
pulled off the blanket, and threw the glass of water on their
faces!
Then Shruti and Payal woke up and saw Aarav standing
there.

Shruti said: “What are you doing, Bhaiya?”

Arrav replied: “It’s already 9 AM and you’re still sleeping!


Today is Monday, and your typing class starts at 10 AM.
Only one hour left!”

Shruti looked at the wall clock hanging near the door.

“Sorry, Bhaiya, and thank you for waking me up,” she said.

Arrav smiled: “It’s okay. Go get ready, I’ll drop you.”

Shruti: “Okay!”
Then Shruti quickly got up and left to get ready.
But Payal was still staring at Arrav.
Aarav said: “Payal, it’s time to wake up. It’s 9 AM. This
time of the day is very important — whatever work you do
now, if done with full concentration and a positive mind,
will give the best results. That’s why I’m telling you again:
you should wake up at 7 AM every day.”
Payal said ok bhaiya i will try to wake up early the morning
Arrav said: good girl

Shruti and Payal were very obedient girls. They always


listened to their brother.
Arrav went to the kitchen and told his mother,
“Mom, please pack Shruti’s tiffin. I’ll drop her — I have
some work in the market too.”

Finally, Shruti was ready to leave.

Shruti said: “Mom, I’m going to my typing class. I’ll be back


by 12:00 PM.”

Mom replied: “Okay, Shru.”

(Her mom always called her Shru instead of Shruti.”.)

Shruti waved to her mom and went to her brother.


Arrav and Shruti were walking together when suddenly
Arrav said,
“I’m thinking of joining an editing class. I’ll go to Mumbai
and find the best one.”

Shruti said: “Wow, that’s a great plan, Bhaiya! Go ahead,


I’m with you. But... have you told Dad?”

Arrav replied: “Yes, I told him.”

Shruti asked: “What did he say?”

Arrav smiled: “He said, ‘Yes, you can join the editing class.
I’ll provide the money.’”

Shruti said: “Okay, that’s great!”

Arrav and Shruti reached the bus stand and waited for the
bus. After 10 minutes, the bus arrived and they boarded it.

After 20 minutes, they reached the typing institute.

Arrav said to Shruti: “You can go to your class. I’ll be back


by 12:00 PM. I have some work in the market, so please
wait here after your class. We’ll go home together.”
Shruti replied: “Okay, Bhaiya.”

Arrav then went towards the market, bought some


vegetables, and met his friend Kartik. Arrav and Kartik
were best friends — they had studied together in school.
Kartik belonged to a similar background as Arrav. He
wanted to take admission in an MBA program and was
studying hard day and night for it.

When Kartik saw Arrav, he ran to him and hugged him.


“How are you?” Kartik asked Aarav.

“I’m fine. Tell me about yourself,” Aarav replied.

“I’m doing great,” Kartik said with a smile.

Then Kartik insisted Arrav come to his house. Arrav had


some work in the market, but Kartik kept insisting. Finally,
Arrav said,
“Okay, I’ll come — but only for 30 minutes. I have some
work left in the market, and Shruti is with me too.”

Kartik said: “Okay, done! Just 30 minutes.”


Arrav went to Kartik’s house. When Kartik’s mother saw
Aarav, she was very happy — it had been a long time
since they last met.
Kartik’s mom said: “How are you, beta?”

Arrav replied: “I’m fine, Aunty. How are you?”

Aunty said: “I’m okay, just glad to see you.”

“Please have a seat,” Kartik said to Arrav, and his mother


went to the kitchen.

Arrav and Kartik started talking about their old memories


and school days. Soon, Kartik’s mother returned with
some snacks.

“Please have some,” she said.

Arrav replied: “Yes, Aunty. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, beta,” she smiled, then returned to the


kitchen.
Arrav asked Kartik where is your sister samaira..? Kartik
said she went to his aunt's there because she wanted to
learn teno course.

Arrav said:Ok
Suddenly, Kartik brought up Harshad, who belonged to an
affluent family. Harshad had been their classmate and was
now living in Mumbai. He had completed his CA.

Arrav checked the time on his wrist watch — it was


already 12:20 PM. Only 10 minutes were left, so he said,
“Kartik, could you give me Harshad’s number?”

Kartik replied: “Yes, why not? Here, take it.”

Arrav also told Kartik about his editing plan.

Kartik said: “You’re doing great, Arrav. Go ahead and


achieve your dreams!”
When Kartik used such words, Aarav thought, 'My friend is supporting me; he is always
with me.'

'Yes, Kartik,' Arrav said. Then he added, 'It’s time to leave


now,' and they hugged each other.”

Arrav then went to the typing institute. It was already 12:40


PM, and Shruti was waiting outside.
Shruti said to Arrav: “Why did you come 10 minutes late?”
Arrav replied: “I met my classmate, Kartik.
Shruti said: “You met Kartik Bhaiya? I know him! He is
Samaira’s brother, and Samaira and I were classmates.”
Arrav said: “Yes, you were classmates.”

Shruti asked: “Is Samaira at home?”

Aarav replied: “No, she went to her aunt’s village to learn


Teno.”

“Ohhh,” Shruti reacted. “She’s doing a good job,” she


added with a smile.

Then Arrav decided to go to the Shiv temple. He saw that


it was just a few kilometres away from his typing institute.
A few minutes later, they reached the temple. When they
arrived, they were amazed by the peaceful environment.
Many people were resting under the trees, some women
were buying prasad, and children were playing around
joyfully.

Arrav had 10 rupees with him, so he went to a shopkeeper


and bought some peda. When they entered the temple,
they felt very energetic and enthusiastic. Finally, they saw
the idol of Lord Shiva. They bowed down, took darshan,
and placed the peda in the offering bowl.

Then Shruti said to her brother, "Mom has given two tiffins.
Let's finish them here. I’d like to eat in this place."
Arrav replied, "Okay, let’s go."

There was a big banyan tree nearby. They went there and
sat under it to enjoy their food. Many birds were chirping
around, and there were nests in the branches too.

After finishing their meal, they decided to go home. It was


2:15 p.m., and they knew the bus timing was 2:30 p.m.
They quickly reached the bus stop. Shruti saw a bus
already standing there, which was going to their village.
They boarded the bus, and after 15 minutes, they reached
home.
Arrav and his sister saw that their mother was resting in
her room, and their younger sister was painting something
Aarav went to the washroom, splashed water on his face,
and then went to the bedroom. He decided to call Harshad
because he wanted to go to Mumbai and join an editing
class. He dialed the number and called him. After 3–4
rings, Harshad answered the call.

"Hey Harshad, I'm Arrav," he said.

Harshad replied, "Hey buddy! What’s up? You’re calling


me after three years! Who gave you my number?"

Arrav said, "Kartik gave me your number. How are your


studies going?"
Harshad replied, "I’ve completed my studies and got a job,
brother."

"Okay, what’s the annual package, CA?" Arrav asked.

Harshad said, "It starts at 4.5 lakh per year, and it will
increase later."

"Wow, that’s a good salary," said Arrav.

"Yes," Harshad agreed.

Then Arrav came to the main point. "Actually, I’ve decided


to join an editing class. Do you know any good editing
classes near your area?"

Harshad said, "Yes, in the next colony there’s a big editing


institute. One of my friends, Sachin, teaches there. He’s
very good at teaching photo and video editing."

"What is the fee for the editing class?" Aarav asked.

Harshad replied, "It’s around ₹6000, but since he’s my


friend and one of the best, he’ll probably give you some
discount.”
Arrav said, "Okay then, I’ll come to Mumbai tomorrow.
Then we’ll visit the editing class," he told Harshad.
Harshad replied, "Okay, come here tomorrow, and we’ll
visit the place."
Arrav said, "Okay, but Harshad..."
"But what, Arrav? You already know my financial condition.
Could you find a low-cost room?"
"Arey Arrav, don’t worry about that. I will manage it. First,
you just come here," Harshad assured him.
"Okay," Arrav replied.
Then they ended the call.

The Departure Moment

It was 6 p.m. in the evening when my father came home.


He sat in his room, and I wanted to tell him that I have to
go to Mumbai tomorrow for the editing class.
"Papa," Arrav said, "I’ll be going to Mumbai tomorrow."
Just when he was about to explain, Payal entered the
room and asked, "Why, Bhaiya? Why are you going to
Mumbai?"
Arrav hadn’t told her yet that he was joining an editing
class.
"Payal, I’m joining an editing class in Mumbai, so I have to
stay there for two years," Arrav said to her.
"Two years?" she reacted with a sad expression.
"Yes, Payal," he replied.

Then Arrav spoke to his father. They discussed things like


room rent, mess fees, and other arrangements.
Once the discussion was over, Mom entered the room and
asked, "What are you all talking about?"
Papa told her everything — that Arrav was going to
Mumbai tomorrow.

"Okay, Arrav, you can go, but do you need some snacks?
Have you packed your bag properly? Make sure to take
everything you need," Mom said.

Shruti was cooking dinner for us when Mom called her,


"Shru, come here."
Shru came and said, "Yes, Mom?"
Mom said, "Bhaiya needs to pack his bag. Please help
him. He’s going to Mumbai for editing classes."
"Wow, Bhaiya! You’re going to Mumbai? That’s great!
When you come back, please bring something for me,"
Shruti said excitedly.
Suddenly, Payal gave her an angry look.
Shruti smiled and said, "Okay, Bhaiya, bring something for
both of us."
Aarav said, "Okay, but first, help me pack my bag." Then
he went to bed and slept.
It was 5am when Arrav woke up early. He picked up his
toothbrush and strolled outside the house while brushing.

As he looked around, he saw his mom already awake,


doing household chores. After finishing her work, she went
to the kitchen and started making chapatis and his
favourite — aloo sabzi.

Then Arrav took a bath and got ready to leave. Around 7


a.m., Payal woke up and started reciting multiplication
tables.
When he saw her, he felt proud. She’s waking up early
and being disciplined. Good girl, he thought to himself.

He went to the kitchen, where Mom was packing his tiffin.


He picked up his bag and saw that Papa and Mom were
standing outside the main door.
He called out to them, "Come here," and bent down to
take their blessings.

Suddenly, Shruti woke up and saw him. "Bhaiya! You're


leaving without meeting me?" she said with an angry look.

"No, Shruti! I was just taking my bag outside the room.


How could I forget to meet you?" Arrav replied with a
smile.
Shruti and Payal came and hugged their brother tightly.
"Finally, it’s time to leave now," Arrav said, as he picked up
his bag and walked to the main door.
He looked at his parents’ faces — they seemed sad. Arrav
also didn’t want to leave his home, but he knew he had to.
He wanted to change his life, and for that, he had to go
and build his career.

He reached the bus stop. After about 15 minutes, the bus


arrived. He boarded it and sat by the window.
As the bus left the village, he saw three birds flying and
some cows grazing in the fields outside.
He knew this was the last peaceful scene he’d see for a
while — such beauty and calm aren’t found everywhere.

The bus reached the taluka, and Arrav got down. He saw
another bus going to Mumbai. Quickly, he picked up his
bag and boarded it. He took a seat near the window,
beside the conductor.
The bus was crowded — full of hustle and bustle.

Finally, the bus started. Arrav was tired and wanted to take
a nap.
The conductor came to collect the fare. "Ticket, Bhaiya,"
he said.
Arrav pulled money from his pocket and gave it to him,
then leaned back.
He wanted to nap for a little while… but his nap lasted for
3 hours.
When Arrav reached the Mumbai bus stand, he called
Harshad.
Harshad received the call after two rings and said, “Hello?”
“Harshad, where are you? I’m waiting here,” Arrav said.
“I’m at home, Arrav. You come here—I’ll send you the
address in a message,” Harshad replied and hung up the
call.

Arrav saw the message and started looking for a rickshaw.


After about five minutes, he found one outside.
He walked toward the rickshaw and asked the driver,
“Could you take me to this address?”
The driver replied, “Okay, I will.”

Arrav got in. He had never seen such a tall building


before. He was very happy to be there.
He had only seen such buildings on TV, and now he was
seeing one in real life.
enhancements to improve the flow, detail, and storytelling:

Arrav finally arrived. He had never seen such a tall


building before. Until now, he'd only seen buildings like this
on television. Standing in front of one in real life felt
surreal. A wide smile spread across his face — he was
truly happy to be there.
After 25 minutes, he reached the address Harshad had
sent.”

He paid the rickshaw driver, collected the change, and


grabbed his bag. As he turned toward the entrance of the
building, he noticed someone standing near the gate — it
was Harshad. The moment their eyes met, they both
smiled warmly and waved. Within seconds, they were
embracing like long-lost brothers.

“Welcome, brother!” Harshad said, his voice filled with


excitement. He took Arrav’s bag and led him toward the
house.

As they entered through the main gate, Arrav’s eyes


widened with amazement. To the right, there was a
beautifully maintained garden — the largest he had ever
seen in his life. A giant swing stood in the middle, swaying
gently in the breeze. Nearby, a football ground stretched
out, its lush green turf glowing under the sun. On both
sides of the driveway, tall, ancient trees stood like royal
guards, adding to the majestic atmosphere.

Luxury cars were parked neatly in a row: a BMW, a Thar,


and even a classic Royal Enfield Bullet. Arrav’s mind
began to race. He knew Harshad belonged to an affluent
family — his father was a successful businessman based
in Dubai — but seeing it all in person was overwhelming.
This was not just wealth; it was a different world
altogether.

Harshad broke the silence. “What are you thinking, bhai?”

Arrav smiled, trying to hide the whirlpool of thoughts


running through his mind. “Nothing,” he said softly.

But Harshad could tell. He knew exactly what was going


on in Arrav’s head. They had known each other for too
long to hide such things.

As they stepped into the house, Arrav stood still,


breathless. The interior was even more stunning. A grand
chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling like stars.
Marble floors reflected the warm golden lights, and the
walls were decorated with beautiful paintings and intricate
designs
Harshad turned to Arrav with a cheerful smile. “Bhai, take
your bag to the bedroom and freshen up. The washroom
is attached. I’ll get something ready for us in the
meantime.”
Arrav nodded, still absorbing the beauty around him. He
picked up his bag and followed Harshad’s instructions.
The bedroom was no less than a five-star suite — a
king-sized bed with pristine white sheets, elegant wooden
furniture, and a glass window that offered a view of the
lush garden outside.

The attached washroom looked like something out of a


luxury hotel. Scented candles lined the shelves, and a
warm towel was already neatly folded near the sink. Arrav
washed his face, the cool water waking him up fully. He
looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. “This is going to
be an unforgettable stay,” he thought.

After freshening up, he returned to the living room, where


Harshad was already waiting. But within seconds,
Harshad rushed off to the kitchen.

“Just give me two minutes,” he called out from the hallway.


“I’ll bring some coffee and snacks!”

Arrav laughed softly to himself. Some things never


change. Harshad, the perfect host.

Moments later, Harshad returned with a tray — two cups


of steaming hot coffee, a bowl of crunchy masala peanuts,
some cheese sandwiches, and a plate of cookies
arranged neatly.

They both sat on the couch, relaxing after the long journey.

Arrav took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “You’ve become


a real chef, Harshad.”

Harshad chuckled. “When you live alone for a while, you


either learn to cook or starve. I chose the smarter option.”

The two of them burst out laughing.

For a few moments, silence settled between them — not


the awkward kind, but a comfortable pause shared
between two old friends. The ceiling fan hummed gently
above, and the scent of coffee filled the air.

Arrav looked around again. “This place... it’s more than


just a house, Harshad. It’s like a palace.”

Harshad leaned back, gazing at the ceiling. “I still


remember when we used to sit on the hostel floor, eating
Maggi at midnight, dreaming of days like this.”

Arrav nodded. “And now here we are... living it.”


They spoke about college memories, late-night study
sessions, heartbreaks, dreams, and how far they had
come. The past blended with the present, and every word
they exchanged was soaked in nostalgia.

That evening, just as the golden hue of sunset began to


melt into the soft, dusky blue of twilight, Harshad turned to
Arrav with a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“Arrav, be ready by five sharp,” he said with a playful grin.


“We’re going out for dinner — and not just anywhere. I’m
taking you to one of the best restaurants in the city.”

Arrav looked up, surprised. “Really? That sounds great.


Just give me a few minutes.”

He headed to the guest room, where his travel bag lay


unzipped on the floor. Digging through the clothes he’d
packed, he picked out a fresh sky-blue shirt and a pair of
well-fitted jeans. Nothing too flashy, but clean and decent
— the kind of outfit that reflected who he was. As he
changed and stood in front of the mirror, he took a
moment to look at himself.

His hair was still a little damp from the earlier shower, his
face freshly shaved. There was no designer wear or
expensive watch, but there was something quietly
appealing in his appearance. Maybe it was the calm
confidence in his eyes, or maybe it was the warm smile
that played on his lips. Either way, he looked sharp.

Just then, a thought struck him — I didn’t call Papa to tell


him I’ve reached.

Panicked, he grabbed his phone from the bed and quickly


dialed his father’s number. After a few rings, a familiar,
chirpy voice picked up.

“Hello?” It was Shruti, his younger sister.

“Shruti! How are you?” Arrav’s voice lit up instantly.

“Arrav bhaiya! Finally! You didn’t even call after reaching.


Papa was waiting,” she said, mock scolding him, though
her tone was filled with affection.

“I’m sorry, I got busy. The house is so beautiful, I lost track


of time,” Arrav replied.

In the background, he heard his mother’s voice. “Shruti,


put it on speaker!”

Soon his mother’s warm voice filled the phone.


“When did you reach beta? How was your journey?”

“It was great, Maa. Harshad came to pick me up from the


rickshaw point. This place... it’s like something out of a
dream. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said honestly.

Before she could respond, Payal, the youngest in the


family, chimed in loudly from the background. “Bhaiya!
Don’t forget to bring gifts! And remember — I want
chocolates too!”

Arrav chuckled. “Of course, how can I forget you, my little


monster?”

Then his father finally came on the line. His voice was
deep and composed, but there was a certain calm wisdom
behind it.

“Arrav,” he said, his tone serious but affectionate.


“Observe everything. Learn all you can from Harshad. I’ve
always believed in your potential. Now is the time to prove
yourself.”

“I will, Papa. I’ll give it my all,” Arrav said with sincerity.


His father added, “Tomorrow, visit the editing institute
Harshad suggests. You’ve chosen a creative path — one
that’s practical too. Whether it’s weddings, anniversaries,
or birthdays, emotions live in those moments. Learn to
preserve them with your art.”

Arrav felt a quiet fire light up in his heart. “Yes, Papa. I’ll
make you proud.”

After more cheerful exchanges, the call ended. As Arrav


put his phone down, he took a deep breath. The words of
his father echoed in his mind like a quiet promise.

Just then, Harshad’s voice called from the hallway, “Arrav!


Ready to leave?”

“Yes, coming!” he shouted back.

As he stepped outside, he saw Harshad walking toward a


sleek black car parked in the driveway. His eyes widened
— it was a brand-new BMW.

“Wait, this is your car?” Arrav asked, half-joking,


half-stunned.

“Yep,” Harshad grinned. “Come on. Time to ride in style.”


Arrav got in, still a little dazed. “I’ve never even sat in a car
like this.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Harshad replied,


tapping the steering wheel.

As they hit the road, the city lights began to shimmer. The
streets were clean, lined with palm trees swaying gently in
the breeze. Tall buildings stood like giants, their glass
windows reflecting the last light of day.

While driving, Harshad glanced at him and said,


“Tomorrow, we’re visiting the best editing institute in the
city. It's perfect for what you want to do.”

Arrav leaned forward, curious. “What’s it like?”

“They teach everything,” Harshad replied. “Photo and


video editing for real-life events — weddings, birthdays,
anniversaries, even social media reels for clients. You can
learn storytelling through real emotions. It’s professional,
hands-on, and very practical.”

Arrav smiled. “That’s exactly what I want. Real stories.


Real emotions.”
They spoke about their school days — the time they wrote
a skit together, the late-night rehearsals before annual
functions, and the joy of seeing something they created
come alive.

“You remember our play about the time machine?”


Harshad laughed.

“How could I forget? You were the crazy scientist, and I


was the soldier lost in time!”

They both burst into laughter. It was like no time had


passed between them.

After a while, they reached their destination. The


restaurant was enormous, its glass walls glowing under
soft golden lights. A valet opened the door for them, and
Arrav stepped out, wide-eyed.

Inside, the restaurant was like a scene from a dream —


huge chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, live
instrumental music playing, and an aroma that made his
mouth water instantly.

“I’ve never been to a place like this,” Arrav whispered, a


little overwhelmed.
“Tonight is all about new experiences,” Harshad said with
a wink.

They were led to a corner table near a window that


overlooked the glittering cityscape. Harshad confidently
ordered for both of them: cheese balls, crispy corn, paneer
tikka, tandoori roti, dal makhani, butter chicken, and a few
more dishes Arrav hadn’t even heard of.

Arrav looked at him, amused. “We’re eating all that?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

And he did. The food was beyond delicious. The flavors


were rich, the spices balanced perfectly. Arrav closed his
eyes with every bite, savoring it like a rare treasure.

“This... this is heaven,” he mumbled between bites.

They talked for hours — about life, ambition, relationships,


and how the world had changed since school. Harshad
shared his own struggles — moments of loneliness,
failures, and the long journey that led him here.

“People only see the shine,” Harshad said softly. “No one
sees the struggle behind it.”
Arrav listened quietly, learning not just from his words, but
from the honesty in his voice.

Then Harshad leaned forward and said, “You know what I


see in you, Arrav?”

“What?”

“Raw talent. You don’t have fancy gadgets or flashy


degrees. But you have an eye for detail, a way of feeling
moments. That’s rare. Use it.”

Arrav lowered his gaze, a little overwhelmed. “Thanks,


Harshad. That means everything.”

“Don’t thank me. Just promise me one thing — give your


hundred percent. No excuses.”

“I promise.”

After dinner, they stepped onto the restaurant’s rooftop


lounge. The view took Arrav’s breath away. The city below
sparkled like a field of stars.

Arrav leaned against the railing and whispered, “This is


the kind of night I’ll never forget.”
Harshad stood beside him, smiling. “And it’s only the
beginning.”

On the way back, they continued their conversation,


talking about starting their own editing company one day
— something that captured people’s memories beautifully.
No Bollywood, no film fantasies — just real emotions.
Weddings. Anniversaries. Moments that truly mattered.

By the time they reached home, it was nearly 9 PM. The


house glowed under soft moonlight. As they entered,
Harshad handed Arrav a brochure.

“This is the editing institute. Read about it before we go


tomorrow.”

Arrav took it and nodded. “Thank you for everything,


Harshad.”

Harshad smiled. “Friends don’t say thank you. They just


show up when it matters.”

Later that night, as Arrav lay in bed, he held the brochure


to his chest and stared at the ceiling. A new chapter was
about to begin — and this time, he was ready to write it
with his own hands.
A New Routine Begins

The next morning, Arrav woke up early, even before the


sun had fully risen. It was only 5 o’clock, but he felt a
strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Today was
the day he would begin a new journey — one that might
change his life.

He stretched his arms, took a deep breath, and quietly


headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. The chill
of the early morning water jolted him fully awake. After
changing into a clean shirt and trousers, he stepped out
into the cool, fresh air and spotted Harshad brushing his
teeth on the balcony.

“Good morning, Harshad,” Arrav greeted him cheerfully.

Harshad turned and smiled, his toothbrush still in hand.


“Good morning, Arru!”

There was a warmth in his voice that always made Arrav


feel at home.

Harshad rinsed his mouth and then spoke. “So, it’s


Monday. I’ve got to the office today, but we’ll go to the
editing institute first. It’s on the way — just a few
kilometers from my workplace. We’ll leave around 8 AM.
Let’s grab a coffee at the hotel near the institute before
that. I’ll get ready now. Wait here, alright?”

“Okay,” Arrav nodded.

As Harshad walked toward the bathroom, Arrav settled on


the soft couch in the living room. His eyes landed on a
sleek LCD TV hanging on the wall in front of him. It looked
so modern and expensive — nothing like the old, bulky
television back home. A remote lay on the table beside
him. He picked it up curiously, turning it over in his hand.

He wanted to watch the news, but the remote had too


many buttons. He had never used such a device before
and wasn’t sure how to even switch it on. He tried
pressing a few buttons, but the screen remained black. His
fingers hesitated — what if he broke something?

Twenty minutes passed in this little struggle until Harshad


returned, dressed smartly in a formal shirt and black
pants.

“Arrav, what are you doing?” Harshad asked with a


chuckle as he saw him fiddling with the remote, looking
nervous.
Arrav immediately froze. “Uh... nothing! I was just trying to
figure this out…”

Harshad smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, yaar. Come here —


I’ll show you how it works.”

With patience and kindness, Harshad explained how to


use the remote: the power button, volume, channels, input
settings — everything. He even gave a quick guide on
how to navigate through different modes on the LCD.

“Thanks, yaar,” Arrav said, genuinely grateful.

“It’s okay, yaar,” Harshad replied. “You’ll get used to it


soon. Now come on — let’s go.”

They locked the house, and Harshad grabbed the keys to


his Royal Enfield Bullet. The shiny black bike stood like a
beast in the parking lot. Arrav had never ridden on such a
powerful motorcycle before.

Within five minutes, they reached a quiet roadside hotel.


They both sat at a corner table, and the waiter brought two
steaming cups of coffee.

“So, how are Uncle and Aunty?” Harshad asked, stirring


his drink.
“They’re good,” Arrav replied with a smile. “Papa was very
happy when I told him about the editing course. He wants
me to give my best.”

Harshad nodded. “And your sisters?”

“Payal and Shruti gave me a long list of things to bring


home — chocolates, bangles, and even a teddy bear,”
Arrav laughed.
Okk harshad said, with smile

They shared stories about home, village life, and how their
childhood had shaped them. The coffee was warm, but the
conversation felt even warmer. Soon, they finished and got
back on the Bullet.

After a short ride, they reached a large three-storey


building. On the front gate was a bold sign in blue and
white:

"Sachin Editing Classes – Memories that Matter"

Arrav stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The place
looked professional, and inside, he could already see a
few students seated in front of computers, practicing video
editing.
Harshad led him through the main entrance and into an
office on the left side. Inside sat a cheerful man in his early
thirties with glasses and a neatly trimmed beard. He
looked up and immediately smiled.

“Harshad! Long time, brother!” he stood and hugged him.

“Sachin, yaar! How have you been?” Harshad grinned,


returning the hug.

They spoke briefly, catching up, and then Harshad turned


to Arrav. "This is my new friend. When I was new here, his
brother and I were roommates.” Arrav. He wants to
become an editor — not for films, but for real events.
Weddings, anniversaries, birthdays — capturing life’s real
emotions. He’s passionate and hardworking.”

Sachin extended his hand warmly. “Welcome, Arrav.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Arrav said as he shook hands.

Harshad added, “He comes from an ordinary background,


Sachin. I was hoping you could offer him a little discount
on the fees.”
Sachin thought for a second, then nodded. “Of course.
The regular fee is 6000 rupees, but for your friend, I’ll take
only 3000.”

“Thank you so much, Sachin. That means a lot,” Harshad


said, genuinely touched.

Arrav immediately took out 3000 rupees from his wallet


and handed it over.

“You can start from tomorrow,” Sachin said. “Come at 8:30


AM sharp. The class will run for three hours daily.”

“Thank you, sir,” Arrav said respectfully.

Harshad and Sachin hugged again before leaving. As they


stepped out of the office, Harshad looked at his watch. “It’s
time for me to head to the office now. But don’t worry — I’ll
drop you to the rickshaw stand nearby.”

“Alright,” Arrav said.

When they reached the main road, Harshad stopped his


bike and pulled out some change from his pocket.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Arrav. “This should be
enough for the ride back home. And when you reach,
explore the LCD properly — you know how to use it now!”

Arrav grinned. “Yes, sir!”

“Alright then, bye. Take care,” Harshad said before revving


up his Bullet and zooming off toward his office.

Arrav waved and then walked to the rickshaw stand.


Within ten minutes, he was back home. As he stepped
inside the quiet house, he messaged Harshad:

“Reached home safely. Thanks for everything.”

He kept his phone aside, walked into the living room,


picked up the remote, and confidently switched on the
LCD. The screen flickered to life. He turned into a news
channel, sat back on the sofa, and smiled to himself.

It wasn’t just about watching TV.

It was about learning something new.

And today, Arrav had taken the first step into a new world
— one filled with light, color, and countless real-life stories
waiting to be captured through his eyes.
Arrav had no idea when he had fallen asleep. One
moment he was watching the news, and the next,
everything had gone dark. The sound of the front door
opening stirred him slightly, but it wasn’t until Harshad
gently shook his shoulder that he woke up with a jolt.

“Arru, wake up! It’s already 8 PM,” Harshad said with a


smile.

Arrav blinked rapidly, confused for a moment. He looked


toward the wall where a clock hung — the hour hand
clearly pointing at eight. He couldn’t believe he had slept
for so long.

“I didn’t even realize… I must have dozed off while


watching TV,” Arrav said, rubbing his eyes.

Harshad chuckled. “It happens. You had a long day.”

Arrav noticed that Harshad was holding a parcel in his


hand. “What’s that?” he asked curiously.

“I brought dinner,” Harshad replied. “I knew you’d be


hungry after sleeping like a log.”
They shared a quick laugh before Arrav excused himself
to freshen up. He went into the washroom, splashed cold
water on his face, and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
The water woke him up completely, and his tiredness
faded. He felt better — more alive.

When he came out, the dining table was already set.


Harshad had unpacked the food neatly. The aroma filled
the room — delicious and familiar. They had aloo ki sabzi,
papad, masala curry, and fresh roti. It wasn’t a royal feast,
but it tasted just like home. Simple.
Comforting.Heartwarming.

As they began eating, the atmosphere turned light. They


started talking about their childhood — the funny little
moments from school, their secret hideouts, cricket
matches played in narrow lanes, and the innocent dreams
they once shared.

Then suddenly, Arrav said, “Please help me find a


room—something with a low rent. And if possible, a mess
nearby where I can eat.” Hearing this, Harshad smiled and
replied, “You don’t need to stay anywhere else, Aarav.
This is your house too. Don’t even think about rent or food.
Do you remember how you used to bring us daily parcels
back in the village without expecting anything? Now it’s my
turn. I don’t need your money—I just want you to focus on
your dream. That’s enough for me.” Aarav felt emotional
but deeply grateful.

Okk Arrav, said with smile

Then they remembering old day

“Remember when we tried to build a kite but ended up


making a torn umbrella?” Harshad said, laughing.

“Oh yes,” Arrav grinned, “and we still fought over who


would fly it first.”

They laughed, reliving the purity of those early days. With


every bite, the conversation grew deeper. They talked
about their journey — how far life had brought them.
Harshad had made it to the city, working a decent job,
while Arrav had finally taken the first step toward building
a career in editing. It wasn’t easy, but it felt right.

“I’m proud of you, Arru,” Harshad said suddenly. “Most


people just dream, but you actually moved forward. You
came here, ready to learn and change your life.”

Arrav smiled, slightly emotional. “I’m just grateful that I


have someone like you beside me.”
The meal ended, but the warmth of the moment stayed.
That night, they didn’t need any entertainment. The
memories of the past and hope for the future were enough
to fill their hearts.

After dinner, Harshad and Arrav decided to relax by


watching a movie together. They chose an old classic
comedy that brought out genuine laughter and lightened
their moods. It wasn’t about the film itself—it was about
the comfort of watching it with someone who mattered. By
the end of it, both were too tired to speak much. Harshad
switched off the lights, and they drifted off to sleep
peacefully on the couch.

"A New Chapter Begins”

The next morning, Arrav woke up before sunrise. His


editing class started at 8 a.m., and he didn’t want to be
late on the first day. As quietly as possible, he got up, took
a quick shower, and packed his notepad and pen.
Harshad was still deep in sleep, wrapped in a blanket.
Arrav didn’t want to disturb him but knew he had to say
something before leaving.
He gently shook Harshad’s shoulder. “Harshad, I’m leaving
for class,” he whispered.

Harshad opened his eyes halfway and mumbled, “All the


best, Arru... go make something big.”

“Thank you,” Arrav replied softly, smiling.

He stepped out of the house and walked toward the gate.


As if perfectly timed, a rickshaw was already waiting
outside. Arrav approached it and said, “Editing class,
Sachin Editing Classes, please.”

The rickshaw driver nodded and started the engine. As


they moved through the streets, Arrav stared out at the
city slowly waking up. It was a new day and a new
beginning in his life. He didn’t know where this journey
would take him, but for the first time, he felt a sense of
purpose. He wanted to succeed—not just for himself, but
for the people who believed in him.

After 15 minutes, they reached the class. The sign outside


read in bold letters: SACHIN EDITING CLASSES. It gave
Arrav goosebumps. He stepped inside and saw Sachin sir
already at work, teaching a group of students. He was
explaining how to cut clips, adjust brightness, and add
transitions in real-time using editing software.
“Hey, Arrav!” Sachin sir greeted me with a warm smile.
“Good morning!”

“Good morning, sir,” Arrav replied, feeling a mix of


excitement and nervousness.

“Come, sit at that computer,” Sachin sir gestured. “Today,


we start with the basics.”

Arrav took his seat, placed his hands on the keyboard,


and looked at the screen. It felt unfamiliar, but he was
ready to learn. For the next three hours, Sachin sir taught
him how to import footage, trim clips, adjust sound levels,
and add background music. He wasn’t fast at first, but he
paid attention to every word and instruction.

Day by day, Arrav kept showing up at 8:30 AM sharp.


While most students took breaks or skipped classes
occasionally, he never missed a single day. For the next
six months, Arrav gave everything he had to this course.
He studied hard, practiced for hours, and even stayed
after class sometimes to ask questions. He stopped going
out unnecessarily, didn’t eat much, and often forgot to rest.
His focus was completely on becoming a great editor—not
for movies, but for real-life memories like weddings,
anniversaries, birthdays, and events that mattered to
families.

There were days when his hands trembled from tiredness.


Some evenings, he returned home exhausted, with only
tea and a few biscuits in his stomach. Yet he never
complained. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to build
a career, to stand on his own feet, and to show his father
that his journey to the city was not in vain.

And throughout this, Harshad was always by his side. He


supported Arrav silently—making sure he had tea in the
evenings, encouraging him after long days, and reminding
him that slow progress was still progress.

Sometimes at night, they would talk about the future.


Harshad would say, “One day, people will line up for your
editing. They’ll say, ‘Call that guy—Arrav. He makes magic
with memories.’”

Arrav would laugh it off, but deep down, he held on to


those words like a promise.

In those 11 months,
Arrav edited dozens of practice
projects—mock wedding invitations, birthday highlight
reels, anniversary montages, and more. Each project
improved his skills and gave him confidence. Sachin sir
often praised his dedication and creativity.

“You’ve got a good eye, Arrav,” he said one day. “You don’t
just edit. You feel the emotion in every clip.”

That line stayed with him. He wasn’t just learning a


technical skill—he was learning how to tell stories through
small moments, how to make ordinary memories feel
extraordinary.
It was Sunday. Arrav was sitting on the sofa, lost in
thought, when suddenly Shruti's name flashed on his
mobile screen. He answered the call. "Hello bhaiya, how
are you? How are your classes going?" she asked
cheerfully.

Arrav smiled and replied, "I’m doing well, Shruti. The


editing classes are going fine. Have you completed your
graduation now?"

"Yes bhaiya, I completed it last month. I've also joined


online banking classes. They’re going great. I study daily
and finish my homework regularly. The exam is in the next
six months."

"That’s really good, Shruti," said Arrav warmly. "Give it


your best. I know you can do it."
Shruti then passed the phone to their younger sister,
Payal. She chatted for a while, asking how Arrav was
doing, and then their mother came on the line. She said,
"Your father went to the farm. I’m making lunch for Shruti
and Payal."

They spoke for a while, sharing laughs and small updates,


before ending the call.
Arrav
he prayed sincerely, “Shivji, please help my sister get a job. I promise to offer
you peda if my wish comes true.” His heart was full of hope, and his faith
stronger than ever. He thought himself

Then suddenly, Harshad turned to Arrav and said, "Arru,


I’ve decided to throw a party. All my friends have been
teasing me, saying I’ve become successful but haven’t
hosted one yet. So, now I’ll throw a party."

Arrav smiled. "That sounds like a good idea."

Harshad immediately started calling his close friends. He


called Karthik, Aniruddh, Keshav, Aakash, Priya, and
finally Akruti. They had all been college friends. When
Harshad called Akruti, Arrav’s heart skipped a beat. No
one knew that he secretly loved her back in college. He
had never confessed his feelings, and that emotion still
lived deep inside him. Akruti had always looked stunning,
and she still did.

The party was decided for the following Monday at a


five-star hotel. Arrav continued focusing on his editing
classes, working hard every day. The next six days passed
quickly.

On Sunday evening, all my friends gathered. When Akruti


entered, Arrav's heart raced. Everyone congratulated
Harshad with hugs and laughter. Priya hugged Arrav too,
but like a sister. Akruti only hugged Harshad, not Arrav.
She had always ignored him in college, maybe because
he came from a poor background. Still, Arrav’s feelings for
her were pure.

Aarav thought to himself, wondering if Akriti didn’t hug him because he came from a
poor family.

Everyone cheered, "Congratulations, Harshad!"

"Thank you, yaaron!" Harshad replied cheerfully.

"Karthik, Keshav, and Aakash were on the terrace, and


Priya sat on the sofa.”Harshad and Arrav brought out
coffee and snacks. The room filled with laughter and
warmth. Later, Harshad, Priya, and Akruti were sitting at
the dining table. Arrav joined them. Harshad asked Akruti,
"Please bring some cold drinks from the fridge."

Akruti smiled, put her phone on the table, and went to the
kitchen. Her phone’s screen was unlocked, and Arrav
noticed her wallpaper—it was a teddy bear holding a
heart. That image alone made his heart ache a little.

Just then, Harshad’s phone rang. He answered and


walked outside to take the call. A few moments later,
Karthik called Priya, and she went to the terrace. Arrav
was now alone with Akruti’s phone.

He looked at it again. His curiosity and innocent heart


overpowered his conscience. He picked up her phone and
checked her gallery. Then he saw her Instagram app. The
app was logged in, and the password was saved. He
remembered how Harshad had once taught him how to use
Instagram.

He hesitated for a moment and then opened her


Instagram messages. His heart froze. The top chat was
with Harshad. He opened the conversation. The first
message he saw was from Akruti: "I love you, Harshad."

His eyes widened. He scrolled down.


Harshad had replied, "I love you too, Akruti."

Tears welled up in Arrav’s eyes. His heart shattered in an


instant. He placed the phone back exactly as it was and
sat quietly, hiding his pain. Moments later, Akruti returned
and asked, "Where is everyone?"

"They must be around somewhere," Arrav replied softly,


trying to sound normal.

Harshad came back and called everyone. The party


continued, but Arrav didn’t enjoy anything after that. He
smiled, laughed, and pretended everything was fine, but
inside, he was broken.

After a while, he stood up and said, "I’m not feeling well. I’ll
go to bed."

He went into the guest room, lay on the couch, and


covered himself with a blanket. He pulled out his phone,
logged into his own Instagram using the password he had
seen earlier. He rechecked the conversation between
Harshad and Akruti. Every message stabbed him deeper.
He turned off the phone and stared at the ceiling, tears
silently rolling down his cheeks. The pain of unspoken love
was unbearable.

"Why do girls always love rich boys?" he thought. "What about us—those
who are poor but have kind hearts? Why do we always get ignored? Don’t
our feelings matter?"

His mind flooded with memories—of watching Akruti from


in college, of dreaming to stand beside her one day. But
now, all those dreams felt meaningless.

Arrav cried quietly under the blanket. Not a single person


in that house knew what he was going through that night.

It wasn’t just about heartbreak—it was about the feeling of


being invisible in a world that judged you by money
instead of love.

In that painful silence, Arrav promised himself one thing:


one day, he would become so capable and successful that no one would ever
judge him for being poor again.

But for now, he closed his eyes, holding his broken heart
inside, hoping that sleep would come and take his pain
away, even if just for a little while.
That night, Arrav sat alone in his room, the dim light of the
table lamp casting long shadows across the wall. His heart
was heavy, and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. As
the silence deepened, so did his pain. Unable to bear the
weight of his emotions, he reached for a piece of paper
from his drawer. His hands trembled, but his thoughts
poured out like an uncontrollable storm.

He began writing.

"Why did you do this, Akruti? Why are you ignoring me? Just because I’m not
rich? I know you have a lot of attitude now. But do you remember those college
days? That time when you desperately needed money? Even though I had none
myself, I gave you whatever I had—not because I expected something in return,
but because I cared for you.

Today, you've become successful and wealthy, and maybe that’s why you’ve forgotten
who stood by you when no one else did. I didn’t expect anything, Akruti. Not even love.
But I never thought you’d treat me like this.

Still, I love you. And I always will.

Just remember one thing—


The day I become successful, you’ll realize the true value of love. Not the love you find
in wealth, but the love that stands beside you when the world turns away."

Arrav folded the note with care and placed it back in the
drawer—like locking away a piece of his broken heart.
That night, as Arrav lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling,
countless memories began to flood his mind—some
beautiful, some painful. Among them, one stood out
vividly: the time when Akruti was his best friend, his
biggest supporter, and his closest companion.

He remembered the days when she had nothing—not


enough money, not enough support, not enough
confidence. And during that time, it was him—only
him—who stood by her. He wasn’t rich, nor did he have an
abundance of resources, but he had a heart full of care,
loyalty, and love. He never let her feel alone. Whatever
little he could manage, he gave it to her. Not out of pity, but
out of pure affection and belief in her dreams.

Akruti had always dreamt of becoming an engineer. Her


determination was strong, but her financial condition back
then was her biggest enemy. She had no one to rely on.
Her father’s earnings barely managed to cover household
expenses. In those difficult days, it was Arrav who silently
became her pillar. He helped her financially whenever she
needed it the most. He never made a big deal out of it. He
never asked for anything in return. All he wanted was to
see her succeed, to see her smile, to see her chase her
dreams freely.

He still remembered that one day—etched in his heart like


an old wound—when Akruti needed 2000 rupees to pay
her college fees. The last date was close, and she was
desperate. She went to her close friend Priya, but Priya
couldn’t help. Then she approached Keshav, a guy who
often claimed to care about her, but even he refused.
Kartik, another friend from her circle, also turned her away.
And to her surprise, even Harshad, who was once known
for helping others, said he was helpless that day.

One by one, all doors were closing in front of her.

Broken and hopeless, she finally came to Arrav.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t think twice. He just


handed her the money with a smile, saying, “You’ll do
great. Just focus on your studies.” That one moment
defined everything about him—his simplicity, his heart, and
the depth of his feelings for her.

He had seen her struggle. He had seen her cry. He had


seen her fight against the odds. And during all those
phases, he had silently stood behind her like a
shadow—always present, always protective.

But now, things had changed.

Akruti had become an engineer. She had achieved her


dreams. She was earning well. She was stable,
successful, and admired by many. But somewhere along
the way, something changed inside her. The soft-spoken
girl who once used to share every little happiness with
him, who used to sit beside him for hours and speak about
life, was now distant, cold, and… arrogant.

She had pride—on her beauty, on her success, on her


status. The world had begun to see her as someone who
made it on her own, and she let them believe it. She never
once mentioned the people who helped her reach that
place. She never once looked back. And worst of all, she
had forgotten Arrav.

He had never expected anything from her. Not love, not


money, not recognition. All he had ever wanted was a
place in her heart—a little space in her memories. But now
it felt like even that was taken away.

"He remembered his college days when he stood like a


pillar behind her.”

That night, as he turned on his side, tears welled up in his eyes. He


remembered the way she used to smile when she saw him, the way she
used to call him her “safe place.” Now, she passed by him like he was a
stranger. Her tone had changed. Her expressions had changed. She no
longer had time for him. She was surrounded by new people, new friends,
new priorities.
Arrav wasn’t jealous of her success. He was proud of her. He had always
wanted her to rise high. But the way she had forgotten everything, the way
she treated him now—it broke him.

He wiped his tears with the corner of his bedsheet, trying to convince
himself that maybe this was how life worked. Maybe people really do
change. Maybe when life offers more, some forget who they were when
they had less.

He turned off the light, hoping to sleep, but sleep didn’t come easily. His
mind was too loud. Memories kept shouting in the silence of the room.

He thought about the time when Akruti had once told him, “You’re the only
one I trust completely.” That same trust had now disappeared somewhere
in the noise of her new world.

She didn’t even know that he still remembered her birthday, still kept that
old bracelet she had gifted him, still smiled at the memories they had made
together during college days. He still walked down the same lanes they
used to roam, still visited the small tea shop where they’d often sit and
dream.

But now, he was invisible to her.

He wondered if she ever thought about him. If she ever recalled those days
when he used to cheer her up after a bad exam, when he brought her
favorite snacks just to make her smile, when he helped her with projects
late at night—even when he had his own work to do. Did she remember
any of that?

Or had success erased everything?

The ache in his chest was deep, not just because she had changed, but
because she never acknowledged what he meant to her. She moved on,
leaving behind the very person who once held her world together.
Arrav closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to let go of the pain.
He told himself, Maybe one day, when life tests her again, she will
remember who truly stood by her when everyone else walked away.

But tonight, all he could do was let the tears roll down quietly—silent
witnesses of a one-sided bond, of a love that was never spoken out loud,
but always existed.

He didn’t want her money. He didn’t want her attention. He just wanted to
be remembered—for the boy who gave everything he had when she had
nothing.

And with that thought, he slowly drifted into a restless sleep, carrying
memories that once brought joy, but now only brought silence.

The Party That Changed Everything

The next morning, Harshad woke up early. It was a


special day—the party he had planned for all his close
friends was finally happening. The celebration would begin
at 1 PM in a five-star hotel, and everyone was excited. He
got ready in a crisp white shirt and black pants and
stepped onto the balcony to enjoy the morning breeze.

“Good morning, Harshad,” Arrav said, rubbing his sleepy


eyes.

Harshad turned around and smiled. “Good morning, Arru.


You’re looking quite handsome today!”
Arrav smiled weakly. “Thank you so much, Harshad bhai.”
("Aarav thought Harshad hadn't told him about Akriti loving him.")

One by one, their friends began to wake up—Karthik,


Aniruddh, Priya, and Akruti. After some time, everyone
started getting ready. Arrav caught a glimpse of Akruti as
she walked out of her room. She looked stunning in a
navy-blue gown, her hair gently falling across her
shoulders. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat. But
then he remembered the pain her silence had caused him.
He quietly turned around and went back to his room.
He chose a simple shirt and pants—not because he didn’t
have better options, but because he wanted to remain
unnoticed.

Everyone gathered in the living room, dressed elegantly,


full of laughter and anticipation. But Arrav stood out—not
because of his clothes, but because of his silence.

Aniruddh frowned. “Why are you wearing such simple


clothes today, bro?”(Aniruddh came late last night)

Only Karthik and Harshad knew the truth behind Arrav’s


quietness and struggle. Before anyone else could
comment, Akruti entered the room. Arrav glanced at her
for a second and then looked away.

Breaking the awkwardness, Harshad said cheerfully, “Arru,


you’re looking amazing. Don’t worry, let’s go!”

Outside, Harshad’s shiny black BMW awaited them.


“Arrav, come sit in the front with me,” Harshad said,
tossing him the keys with a smile.

Just then, Akruti laughed softly. It wasn’t cruel—it was


natural—but Arrav’s heart was already too wounded to
absorb it lightly. He ignored her and took the front seat
quietly. The others settled into the back.

As the car started moving, Keshav asked, “Harshad, bhai,


can you play some music? I’m feeling bored.”

Harshad nodded and turned on the stereo.

The song that played was:

> "Har ghadi badal rahi hai roop zindagi...


Chaanv hai kabhi, kabhi hai dhoop zindagi...
Har pal yahan jee bhar jiyo...
Jo hai samaa, kal ho naa ho..."
The lyrics struck Arrav deeply. He turned to look out the
window, hiding the storm that raged within him. Everyone
else chatted and laughed, but he felt like a stranger
among his own friends.
After 40 minutes, they reached the five-star hotel. For
Karthik and Arrav, it was their first time entering such a
luxurious place. The sheer grandeur amazed them—the
tall chandeliers, the aroma of gourmet food, the soft
classical music playing in the background.

Keshav, Aniruddh, and Harshad came from wealthy


families, so they were used to such environments. Priya,
like Arrav and Karthik, belonged to a modest background,
but her excitement was genuine and infectious.

They all enjoyed a lavish dinner, tasted exotic desserts,


clicked group photos, but none of them touched alcohol.
The group danced to soft music, celebrated friendship,
and tried to forget the burdens outside the hotel’s glass
walls.

By 11 PM, they were all exhausted and headed back


home. One by one, they retired to their rooms and drifted
into sleep.
The next morning came too quickly.

The trip was over, and it was time for everyone to return
to their lives. The house was filled with the sounds of
zippers, suitcases, and farewell laughter.

Arrav stood near the door, his bag packed, watching


silently as his friends hugged each other.
Akruti came out of her room and glanced at him for a
moment. She didn’t say a word—not even a goodbye.

Harshad clapped his hands. “Okay guys, ready? I’ll drop


you all at the railway station.”

Everyone shouted, “Yes!”

Akruti gave Harshad a warm hug. But she passed by


Arrav as if he didn’t exist. He felt invisible, yet he said
nothing.
Keshav, Priya, Aakash, and Kartik gave a warm hug to
Arrav. They finally waved at each other.”

They all piled into the BMW again. Harshad dropped each
one at the station, hugged them, and returned home with
Arrav. The silence between them was heavy.
Once home, Arrav went to the garden and sat on the
swing. He stared at the sky, his heart heavier than ever.
“How arrogant Akruti has become,” he thought. “Money
really changes people.”

He closed his eyes, trying to relax. The swing moved


slowly as he began drifting into a nap. Two hours passed.

Harshad returned and gently shook Arrav’s shoulder. “Are


you okay?”

Arrav slowly opened his eyes and nodded.

As always, Harshad had brought food parcels. But this


time, Arrav said, “Harshad bhai, from now on, I will
contribute. You always bring food for me, but it’s time I
start being responsible.”

Harshad smiled. “Arru, it’s okay. I can manage. But if you


insist, keep your money safe. Use it when you need it the
most.”

Tears welled up in Arrav’s eyes. He stood up and hugged


Harshad tightly. “Thank you, bhai. I won’t forget your
support. One day, I will repay everything.”
Later that evening, Arrav opened Harshad's laptop and
browsed through old college photos and videos. One
particular video caught his eye. It was a farewell video. In
it, Akruti was smiling and saying:

“Arrav, you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I


know one day, you’ll do something amazing. Don’t ever
give up on your dreams.”
His eyes filled with tears. That Akruti—the one who
believed in him—was so different from the one who
walked away silently now.

He opened his diary and wrote:

> “Life is unpredictable. People change.


Circumstances shift. But dreams remain.

Today, I lost a piece of my heart. But I found a new


purpose. I will rise—not for her, but for myself.

Success is not just about proving others wrong. It’s


about proving yourself right.

I will learn. I will grow. I will rise.”


From that day forward, Arrav began a new journey—not
just of becoming a successful editor, but of becoming
someone who never lets heartbreak stop him from loving
life again.

When editing class ended he using harshad laptops


keyboard

Chapter: The Call That Changed Everything

It had been 18 months since the party—18 long months of


transformation, learning, and silent determination. Arrav’s
life had taken a turn he never anticipated. Gone were the
days when he felt ignored and broken. Now, he had
immersed himself in his editing work, carving out a small
but growing place in the world of wedding films and event
videos.

Each morning, he woke up with purpose. He would review


footage, attend shoots, and stay up late editing—giving life
to moments that others had lived but entrusted him to
preserve. His small room had become his creative den,
filled with wires, hard drives, a high-performance laptop,
and sticky notes filled with quotes and deadlines. One of
those quotes stuck above his desk read:
> “Turn your pain into power. Turn your silence into
success.”

That day was like any other. Arrav was sitting in front of
his laptop, editing a beautiful wedding scene where the
bride's eyes welled up during her. The soft background
music played in his headphones, and the atmosphere
around him was still, emotional, and delicate.

Suddenly, his phone lit up with a call.

Shruti (Sister)

His heart skipped a beat. Shruti rarely called during work


hours. He quickly took off his headphones and answered
the call.

“Hello?” he said, surprised.

There was silence on the other end—followed by a burst


of joyful, uncontrollable laughter, mixed with something
else.

Shruti was crying.


“Bhaiya… I did it!” she said between sobs and giggles.

Arrav’s hands froze on the keyboard.

“What? What did you do, Shruti?” he asked, completely


puzzled.

Shruti tried to calm herself. “Bhaiya, I got selected…


I’m a Probationary Officer now. I cleared the bank
exam!”

Arrav couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His eyes


widened, and his heart filled with emotion.

“You did it?” he whispered, as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Yes, Bhaiya! Not just any bank… I’ve been selected


by SBI. State Bank of India! Can you believe it?” she
cried, her voice breaking with joy.

Arrav stood up from his chair in disbelief. “SBI? Shruti, oh


my God… You really did it! Congratulations, Shru! I’m so,
so proud of you!”

He could no longer hold back his emotions. Tears


streamed down his face—not of pain this time, but of pride
and pure happiness.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” he asked, his voice cracking
with emotion.

Shruti laughed through her tears. “Papa has gone out to


bring peda, and Mummy is so excited she ran to the
neighbours to tell everyone, ‘My beti is selected in the
bank!’ Even Payal went with Papa!”

Arrav chuckled, wiping his tears. He could imagine the


whole scene in his mind—the proud father, the overjoyed
mother running from house to house, the younger sister
full of dreams finally making them come true.

After the call ended, Arrav sat quietly on the edge of his
bed, phone still in his hand. His face was wet with tears,
but a peaceful smile spread across his face.

Just then, Harshad entered the room with two cups of tea.

“Arru, tea time,” he said cheerfully. But one look at Arrav,


and he froze. “Arru? Are you okay?”

Arrav looked up and stood. He hugged Harshad tightly.


“She did it, bhai… Shruti cleared her bank exam. SBI PO.
She did it,” Arrav whispered, still choking with emotion.

Harshad patted his back gently. “I knew she would. You


both are made of fire, Arru. You’ve both walked through
storms and never complained.”

“You know,” Arrav said slowly, “Eight months ago, I was


shattered. I didn’t even believe in myself. But your
support… Shruti’s dreams… they brought me back.”

Harshad nodded. “And look where you are now. Editing


wedding videos, earning your name slowly, becoming
responsible. You’ve grown.”

Arrav smiled and said, “This is just the beginning. Now, it’s
time to climb higher.”

Later that evening, Arrav opened a notebook—the same


one where he had written the emotional letter to Akruti
months ago. On a fresh page, he began to write:

> Date: 10/05/2020

“Today, my sister became a banker. And I became


something even more important—her proud brother.
She has proven that even from a small house with big
dreams, we can reach the sky.

This is not just her victory. It’s our family’s.

And now, it's my turn.

I may not wear a tie and work in an air-conditioned


office. But I will build my name through creativity,
emotion, and hard work.

Akruti once ignored me. But life won’t.

Today, I am thankful for the pain—it taught me how to


grow.
Today, I thank Shruti—she reminded me why we
dream.”

He closed the notebook gently and looked outside the


window. The city lights shimmered in the distance, and the
night sky seemed to smile back.
Then suddenly, Aarav remembered his promise to Shivji — he had wanted to offer peda as a token
of gratitude. Without wasting a moment, he rushed to the temple, placed the sweets before the
idol, and folded his hands with deep emotion.
“Thank you, Shiv,” he whispered. “You gave my sister the strength to achieve her dream. Now,
please give me that same strength. It’s my turn now.”

Arrav’s life had changed. Not because of money. Not


because of Akruti. But because of faith—in himself, in his
sister, and in the power of rising again after falling.

Chapter: Rise Beyond Shadows

After months of relentless effort and quiet dedication,


Arrav had not only become a skilled video editor, but he
now had something he once only dreamed of—a
certificate that officially recognized his expertise. It was
more than just paper. For him, it was proof. Proof that he
had rebuilt his life from nothing. Proof that he wasn’t just
surviving, but thriving.

He looked at the framed certificate hanging proudly above


his desk, and for the first time in years, he whispered to
himself, “I’m ready.”

The thought that had been brewing inside him for months
now took form: he wanted to open editing branches across
the country. Not just for himself, but to help others like
him—those who had dreams but no direction, talent but no
platform.

A Brother’s Blessing

One late evening, Arrav sat with his closest friend,


Harshad, in the house. The sky outside was dark, but
inside, Arrav’s eyes shone with ambition.

“Harshad,” he began, “I want to start something big.”

Harshad, sipping tea, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already


started something big, bhai. Your editing is getting
noticed.”

Arrav smiled, but there was more.

“No, I mean really big. I want to open branches of editing


classes in 10 cities—help others learn what I’ve learned.
Give them a chance.”

Harshad leaned forward. “10 cities? Are you serious?”

Arrav nodded. “And I want you to be my partner. We’ll


build this together.”
Harshad didn’t hesitate. “I’m in.”

Support from Shruti

Though excited, Arrav knew that finances were a


challenge. His sister Shruti, now an SBI Probationary
Officer, was already helping manage the house expenses.

Still, one night, with great hesitation, he called her.

“Hello, Bhaiya!” Shruti’s cheerful voice greeted him.

“Shruti,” he said slowly, “I have a request… I want to open


editing branches. But I need some help.”

Shruti didn’t even let him finish. “Say no more, Bhaiya. I’ll
send what I can.”

Within two days, Arrav received a notification. ₹2,00,000


had been transferred to his account—Shruti’s two months’
salary.

His eyes filled with tears. “This is your hard-earned


money…”
“It’s our dream, Bhaiya,” she said. “You believed in me
once. Let me do the same for you now.”

The First Steps

With Harshad’s unshakable support and Shruti’s timely


financial help, Arrav finally took the plunge into the world
he had only dreamed of. His vision was crystal clear—to
build something meaningful, something that didn’t just
belong to him but also gave direction to hundreds of young
minds like him. He wanted to reach the roots of his
community, where raw talent often withered due to a lack
of opportunity.

His first target was to open four branches across their


taluka—those semi-urban belts of hope and struggle,
where dreams usually ended at the doorstep of poverty.
These were places where ambition existed in the eyes of
the youth but faded without guidance. Arrav wanted to
change that narrative.

The journey began with long calls and planning sessions


between him and Harshad. They divided their
responsibilities neatly. Harshad, who had a better grip on
finances and logistics, took charge of managing rental
agreements, arranging electricity connections, sourcing
second-hand furniture, and handling legal paperwork.
Arrav, meanwhile, gave his full attention to branding,
classroom aesthetics, content design, and teaching
materials. He poured his soul into every corner of the
institute’s identity.

Arrav remembered the very first day they scouted


locations. The sun was blazing, and the two friends
traveled from village to village on Harshad’s bike, stopping
at tea stalls, chatting with local shopkeepers, and
inspecting empty buildings. There was nothing fancy about
the process—no air conditioning, no real estate agents,
just two boys with passion and a folder full of plans.

Every evening, they would return home tired and dusty,


but motivated. They'd sit on the floor, eat simple food, and
then open their laptops to continue working on curriculum
modules. Harshad often joked, “Bhai, tu bas naam likh,
design main kar dunga. Par posters mein tu hi likhna. Tere
words alag hi feel dete hain.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

Arrav wrote the motivational lines himself. Every poster on


every classroom wall bore his words—simple, heartfelt,
and real. Lines like:

"You don’t need to be perfect to begin, you just need to begin to be perfect."
"Success isn't born in air-conditioned rooms; it's built in sweaty classrooms."
"Your background can’t decide your future—only your hunger can."

The students who came in to inquire felt an unspoken fire


in those walls.

In a span of just one month, their plan exceeded


expectations. Instead of four, they ended up launching six
branches—two in their taluka, and four in neighboring
cities. Each classroom was neat, with functional fans,
whiteboards, and banners featuring former students who
had trained under Arrav. Two of those students were now
hired as full-time trainers. The chain was forming—slowly
but surely.

It wasn’t about becoming famous. It was about impact.


They named the institute "Vision Craft"—because Arrav
believed that talent without vision was a waste, and
dreams without skill were just stories.

One day, during a team meeting, Harshad looked at him


and said, “Bhai, tu ab teacher nahi raha. Tu ab ek leader
ban gaya hai.” Arrav just smiled and said, “Main bas wohi
ladka hoon jo kabhi Akruti ko 2000 rupaye dene ke liye
apna khud ka kharcha rok deta tha.”

That name—Akruti—still hurt.

Even amid this success, he hadn’t informed some of the


closest people in his life—Aniruddh, Keshav, Kartik, Priya,
and especially Akruti. Not because he was bitter. Not
because he had anything to prove. But because he was
still healing. This was his silent phase of growth. He
believed the right time to share everything would come.
And when it did, he wanted to stand in front of them—not
with complaints, but with pride.

He often imagined how they would react. Would Priya’s


eyes well up? Would Kartik pat his back and say, “Mujhe
pata tha tu kuch bada karega”? Would Keshav say
something sarcastic but secretly feel proud? Would
Akruti… would she feel something?
He had no answers.

But life had taught him that answers weren’t always


necessary. Sometimes, silent work and inner peace
mattered more than validation.

Still, the void Akruti had left couldn’t be ignored.

There were moments when he found himself scrolling


through old photos—pictures of college days, selfies at
roadside stalls, screenshots of conversations. He still
remembered the laughter they shared, the secrets they
exchanged. Akruti had once said, “If I ever succeed, it’ll be
because you believed in me when I didn’t.”

But now, she was nowhere. Neither a call nor a message.

Arrav didn’t expect her to come running back. But


somewhere in his heart, he wished she would just check
in—ask him how he was, even if casually. But she didn’t.
And maybe, that was part of the journey too.

One evening, while arranging files in his office, Harshad


walked in with a surprise—a framed certificate for “Vision
Craft” recognizing its rapid development and impact on
rural youth. Arrav stared at the frame silently.
“Arru, tu samajhta hai na? Log tujhe ab serious lene lage
hain,” she said softly.

He nodded. “Par main khud ko abhi bhi wahi samajhta


hoon, jise log kabhi seriously nahi lete the.”

They both smiled.

A few days later, a small celebration was organized at one


of the branches. Harshad had invited a few local leaders
and journalists. It was a small but proud moment. One by
one, students came forward and shared their journeys. A
girl named Neha said, “Sir, main bolna bhi nahi jaanti thi
properly, aaj main camera ke saamne confidently bol sakti
hoon, kyunki aapne humpe bharosa kiya.”

That night, when Arrav got home, he cried—not because


of pain, but because of fulfillment.

For the first time in years, he felt like he had a purpose


that no one could take away from him.

Still, in the corner of his drawer was a gift he once bought


for Akruti—an old fountain pen with her name engraved.
He had planned to give it to her when she cleared her final
exams. He never did. He never found the right moment.
And now… that moment no longer existed.
Yet, he didn’t throw it away.

Because not all love stories end with heartbreak. Some


just take new forms—in memories, in lessons, in silent
victories.

And Arrav’s victory had just begun.

A Dream for Mumbai

One calm evening, after a long day of training sessions


and branch visits, Arrav and Harshad found themselves on
the rooftop of their rented house. The sky was painted with
stars, and the air was filled with quiet purpose. For the first
time in days, they were silent—not because there was
nothing to say, but because some dreams require silence
before they’re spoken.

Arrav sat cross-legged, his eyes gazing at the infinite sky


above, as if searching for the next milestone among the
constellations.
“We’re not done,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled
with longing.

Harshad turned to him with a knowing smile. “I know.


You’re thinking of Mumbai, aren’t you?”

Arrav nodded slowly. “Yes… I want to open our biggest


branch in Mumbai. A real institute. Not just a classroom
with a few computers, but a complete setup—editing labs,
seminar halls, cameras, green screens, sound systems…
a place where people walk in with dreams and walk out
with direction.”

There was a pause. A long, reflective silence.

“And this time,” Arrav said, his voice almost cracking, “I


want to invite everyone. Mom, Dad, Shruti, Payal… even
Akruti. And the others too—Kartik, Priya, Keshav,
Aniruddh. I want them all to be there.”

He looked at Harshad, eyes filled with emotion.

“I want the inauguration to happen with my parents’ hands.


I want them to stand on that stage and see what I’ve
built—not from money, not from comfort—but from pain,
from rejection, from every broken piece I picked up along
the way. I want them to feel proud… truly proud.”
Harshad, who had seen every phase of Arrav’s
transformation—from heartbreak to hustle—placed his
hand gently on his friend’s shoulder.

“And they will, bhai. They will see it all. Mumbai will be our
flagship. Our heart. Branch number 11. Let’s make it
unforgettable.”

Arrav smiled, but deep down, he was already envisioning


it—the building with glass doors, the buzzing energy of
students walking through the halls, the glowing name
Vision Craft Mumbai on the front wall, and his parents
seated in the front row during the opening ceremony.

He imagined Kartik cracking his usual jokes, Priya clicking


pictures for memories, Keshav walking around trying to
look “busy but impressed,” and Akruti… standing silently,
perhaps with a faint smile, realizing what he had become.

But unlike before, this dream wasn’t born from a need to


prove himself. It came from love—love for his parents,
love for his people, love for a vision that had grown larger
than himself.

The next day, planning began.


Harshad started looking into possible locations in Mumbai.
They narrowed down areas with strong student
presence—Andheri, Dadar, Borivali, and Mulund. Arrav
insisted that the institute should be near a railway station.
“I don’t want a fancy location,” he said. “I want it to be
accessible—for the guy who walks from the chawl, for the
girl who skips lunch to save train fare. This place should
belong to them.”

In the following weeks, they visited Mumbai multiple times.


They walked through dusty lanes, climbed staircases of
old buildings, and inspected commercial spaces. After two
weeks, they found it—a modest but well-lit building in
Mulund West. The rent was high, but the location was
perfect.

Arrav stood at the entrance and looked around.

“This is it,” he said. “This is where it begins.”

With help from Shruti and a small loan from a government


youth startup scheme, they secured the place and
immediately got to work. Painting, furniture, systems,
wiring—everything had to be perfect.
Meanwhile, Arrav began writing personal invitation
letters—one for each person who had been a part of his
journey.

He wrote to his father:

“Baba, this is the dream you once feared for me—but I


want you to come and see it for yourself. This institute is
as much yours as it is mine.”
I still remember the days when I sat in the corner of the
house, feeling like a failure. You never said a word, but I
saw the worry in your eyes.

Today, I want to invite you both to Mumbai—not just to see


a city, but to inaugurate something your son has built.

This institute is not just mine. It’s yours. It's a reflection of


your sacrifices, of Shruti’s support, of Harshad’s
brotherhood.

Come and bless the 11th branch.

To Shruti and Payal:

“I wouldn’t be here without your sacrifices. Come watch


your brother open the door that you helped unlock.”
To Kartik:

“You once said I was too soft to face the world. Come see
how softness turned into strength.”

To Priya and Keshav:

“I know we’ve drifted, but this celebration is for all those


who stood by me once. Your presence will complete the
circle.”

And lastly, to Akruti:

“I never blamed you. In fact, I thank you. You became a


chapter that shaped the rest of my story. If you can make
time, I’d like you to see how that story turned out.”

The inauguration was scheduled for a Sunday afternoon in


early winter. The guest list included family, friends,
students, mentors, and a few local education officials.

As the day approached, Mumbai’s newest branch of Vision


Craft began to bloom with life. Classrooms were equipped
with the best editing tools they could afford. Motivational
posters lined the walls, including one that said:
“Sometimes, the ones who break you are also the reason
you rise.”

Arrav read that line one evening and stood silently for a
long moment.

He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t even hurting. He had


finally reached that rare place where the past didn’t haunt
him—it humbled him.

Mumbai was not just a branch.

It was a symbol.

Of survival.
Of strength.
Of second chances.

And for Arrav, it was a dream that didn’t just belong to


him—it belonged to everyone who had once told him, “You
can.”

The Inauguration Day

The big day had finally arrived—the inauguration of Arrav's


dream institute in Mumbai. The entire building was
buzzing with energy, decorated with garlands, fairy lights,
and posters showcasing student success stories. The
name "Vision Craft Mumbai" stood proudly in bold letters
at the entrance, and beneath it was a line written by Arrav
himself: "Dreams demand courage—not comfort."

Arrav stood at the entrance, dressed in a deep blue


tailored coat, crisp white shirt, fitted black trousers,
polished leather shoes, and a sleek wristwatch that added
a subtle charm to his confident presence. His hair was
neatly styled, and for the first time, he truly looked like the
man he had worked so hard to become—bold, focused,
and inspiring.

Just then, his family arrived. His mother, father, and his
sisters Shruti and Payal stepped out of the car and paused
to take in the sight before them. Their eyes fell on Arrav,
standing with poise amidst photographers, students, and
well-wishers.

His mother gasped, hand covering her mouth. “Look at our


beta,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He looks like a
hero.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she walked toward him,


and before anyone could speak, she hugged him tightly.
His father, who had always been a man of few words, was
choked up with emotion. “Beta… you did it,” he said, his
voice low and heavy.

Arrav turned to him and immediately embraced him, a


firm, emotional hug. “Baba, this is all because you
believed in me. You let me go when I asked. You trusted
me.”

Shruti and Payal joined in, pulling him into a group hug.
“Bhaiya, we’re so proud of you,” Shruti whispered, tears
falling freely. “You’ve done something incredible.”

Just then, a car arrived at the gate. Priya, Kartik, Keshav,


Aakash, and… Akruti stepped out.

Arrav turned and saw them. His heart pounded—not from


nervousness, but from the weight of memory. Kartik
walked toward him and without saying a word, pulled him
into a warm, tight hug.

“Tu asli hero nikla, bhai,” Kartik said, laughing and wiping
his eyes.

Priya joined next. “You didn’t even tell us, Arrav! We had
to hear it from Harshad. But I’m glad we’re here.”
Aakash and Keshav hugged him next, clapping his back
and congratulating him.

Then came the moment.

Akruti stood at a distance, frozen. Her eyes met Arrav’s.

Time seemed to pause.

She hadn’t seen him in months—maybe more. But the


man standing before her didn’t resemble the shy, quiet boy
she once dismissed. This Arrav stood tall. His eyes were
calm but confident. He had matured, transformed, and
built an empire from scratch.

She stared at him—his sharp features, the glow on his


face, the elegance in his dress. She remembered that
night at Harshad’s party when she hadn’t even
acknowledged him properly, hadn’t offered a hug, hadn’t
shown the basic warmth he had once shown her. The guilt
now stabbed at her.

He used to wait for me outside my classroom with a smile,


she remembered. He once skipped meals to send me
money for my fees… and I didn’t even say thank you.
Her eyes filled with tears. She tried to compose herself as
she looked at the beautifully lit building.

"How did he become so rich?" she thought. "How did he


become this man?"

She whispered to herself, “He looks so stunning now… his


entire life has changed.”

She looked down at her own designer handbag, her car,


her expensive shoes—suddenly they all felt meaningless.
What Arrav had earned wasn’t just money or status. He
had earned respect.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Would you like to come inside?”

It was Arrav. Standing a few feet away, inviting her in—not


with pride, not with arrogance, but with kindness.

Akruti slowly walked up to him. Her lips trembled as she


tried to speak, but no words came out.

“I heard this is your 11th branch,” she finally managed.


“Yes,” Arrav replied, smiling gently. “We’re just getting
started.”

There was silence.

“I’m… proud of you,” she whispered, the words heavy with


emotion and regret.

Arrav nodded politely. “Thank you.”

They didn’t speak of the past. They didn’t have to.

Inside, the program began. Students shared their


experiences, guests gave speeches, and finally, it was
time for the official ribbon-cutting. Arrav walked up to the
stage with his parents.

Holding a golden scissor, he turned to his father. “Baba,


you do the honours.”

His father looked at him proudly and together with Arrav’s


mother, they cut the ribbon.

The hall filled with claps, cheers, and camera flashes.

Arrav turned toward the audience and addressed them.


“This isn’t just an institute. It’s a reminder that no dream is
too small, and no background too humble. If you’re willing
to struggle, to sacrifice, and to stand tall even when the
world doubts you—then one day, your story will become
someone else’s hope.”

The crowd erupted in applause.

From the back of the room, Akruti clapped too—her eyes


still moist, her heart full of questions.

Arrav looked once more at the people who had shaped his
journey. The ones who doubted him, the ones who
supported him, and the one who unknowingly broke him.

But he had rebuilt himself—stronger, wiser, and fearless.

That day wasn’t just about inaugurating a building.

It was about closing an old chapter and beginning a new


one—with pride, forgiveness, and purpose.

The dream that was once a whisper in the dark had now
become a glowing light for many.
And for the first time in a long time, Arrav slept that
night—not with memories of pain—but with peace in his
heart and fire in his soul.

The Departure

The following morning, the celebration had mellowed into


a quiet sense of pride. Arrav's parents, along with Shruti
and Payal, prepared to return to their village. Their bags
were packed, their hearts full.

Aakash, Priya, Keshav, and Kartik had other plans. They


headed to Harshad’s home to surprise him with a small
celebration just for Arrav. “He deserves a party where he
doesn’t have to host,” Aakash said with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Arrav walked his family to the railway station.


It was a short drive, but the air was filled with emotion.
They reached just in time—the train was scheduled to
arrive in five minutes.

Arrav helped his parents and sisters board the coach and
find their seats. He chose window seats for Shruti and
Payal, knowing how much they loved watching the
landscapes fly by.
Once they were settled, Shruti stood up and hugged their
mother tightly, then turned to Arrav. “Bhaiya, take care of
yourself. And don’t forget us now that you're so famous,”
she teased.

Payal giggled and added, “Next time, we’re coming for a


week! And you’ll cook for us.”

Their parents gave him one last embrace. His mother


kissed his forehead. “We’ll tell everyone in the village what
our son has built. Your grandfather would have been so
proud.”

Arrav swallowed a lump in his throat. “Come back soon,


Maa. I’ll miss you all.”

The horn of the train echoed.

Within minutes, the train began to move. From the


window, Shruti and Payal waved until their faces
disappeared into the distance. Arrav stood there long after
the train left, eyes fixed on the empty tracks.

For a few moments, he allowed the silence to sink in.

Then he smiled. There was still more to do. More lives to


change.
With a deep breath, he turned and walked away—not with
loneliness, but with determination.

Questions, Thoughts, and a Doorbell

After returning home, Arrav took a rickshaw to Harshad’s


apartment. His mind was filled with unanswered questions. Why hadn’t Harshad
proposed to Akruti if he really loved her? Why hadn’t they even called each other in so
long? What kind of bond did they share—was it love, or just attraction?
..??
Did Harshad read my letter which I written for akruti

Arrav clenched his fists gently as he looked out the


window. Did Akruti like Harshad only because he was rich? he
wondered. But no—Harshad had backed away. That
meant something more. Maybe Harshad truly loved her
but respected her confusion.

Arrav reached the apartment complex, walked up to the


familiar door, and rang the bell. The door opened, and
Kartik stood there, surprised.

“Hey, Arrav!” Kartik said, smiling wide.

Arrav nodded. “Hey.”


Inside, the others were already gathered—Aniruddh,
Akruti, Aakash, Priya, and Harshad—all sitting comfortably
on the sofa, chatting. They looked up when they saw Arrav
enter. He gave them a nod and casually walked toward the
washroom to freshen up.

As he stepped away, Akruti’s eyes followed him silently.


Guilt flooded her mind. She felt ashamed. She had judged
Arrav for being poor, and now he had become someone
respected, someone admirable.

Unable to sit still, Akruti got up and walked toward Arrav’s


room—his old shared space in Harshad’s flat. She sat on
the couch near his bed, lost in thought. Her eyes
wandered across the room and paused on a drawer that
seemed slightly open.

Something inside tugged her curiosity. She opened it


slowly and found a piece of paper sticking out. Carefully,
she pulled it free.

It was a handwritten note, old but neat. As she started


reading, her hands trembled. The words pierced through
her like a blade.
Note from Arrav:

Why did you do this, Akruti? Why are you ignoring me? Just because I’m not
rich? I know you have a lot of attitude now. But do you remember those college
days? That time when you desperately needed money? Even though I had none
myself, I gave you whatever I had—not because I expected something in return,
but because I cared for you.

Today, you've become successful and wealthy, and maybe that’s why you’ve
forgotten who stood by you when no one else did. I didn’t expect anything,
Akruti. Not even love. But I never thought you’d treat me like this.

Still, I love you. And I always will.

Just remember one thing—

The day I become successful, you’ll realize the true value of love. Not the love
you find in wealth, but the love that stands beside you when the world turns
away.

Her eyes blurred with tears. She had never known Arrav
had written this. Her hands went cold. Her breath
quickened. She wiped her tears quickly as footsteps
approached the door.

It was Keshav.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gently, surprised to


find her alone in the room.

“Nothing… just came to sit for a bit,” Akruti said, slipping


the letter back into the drawer quickly.
They walked back to the living room, where the others
were enjoying a pizza party. Everyone was laughing,
joking, reliving college memories. Arrav smiled and joined
in, hiding all his pain behind cheerful eyes.

But Akruti couldn’t stop looking at him.

Confessions and Confrontations

The laughter around the room echoed against the walls,


but Akruti’s mind was silent. She sat there, holding a slice
of pizza that she didn’t take a single bite of. Her eyes kept
darting toward Arrav—he looked genuinely happy,
surrounded by friends who had once mocked him behind
his back, people who had never believed he would make it
this far.

She wondered—Did he still feel the same about her? Or


had he moved on completely?

The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes. Only someone
who truly knew Arrav would have noticed. And Akruti did.
Despite everything, she still knew him better than anyone
else in that room.

Just then, Harshad’s phone buzzed. He excused himself


and walked to the balcony to take the call. Akruti watched
him as he left, her heart pounding louder than before. She
waited, unable to hold her thoughts anymore.

Moments later, when Harshad returned, Akruti stood up


and walked straight toward him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, trying to stay


calm.

Harshad nodded and followed her out to the corridor. She


turned to him, her eyes burning with emotion.

“Why didn’t you ever call me?” she asked sharply. “Not
even a single message after that party. I waited. I
thought… we were something.”

Harshad leaned against the wall, arms folded. His


expression was calm but distant.

He wanted to tell her everything — because Harshad had read the letter Aarav had written to
Akriti. But Harshad chose to remain silent. He only thought deeply about it, knowing it wasn't his

.“
place to speak

I was busy,” he said flatly.


“Oh, busy?” she scoffed, her voice cracking. “You had time
for everyone else, but not for me? Not even to check if I
was okay?”

Harshad looked her in the eye now. “I didn’t call because I


realized something.”

“What?” she demanded, trying to hold back the tears.

“That you never loved me.”

Akruti’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Harshad continued, “You liked the idea of me. You liked


the car, the expensive gifts, the attention. But your heart?
It was never mine.”

“That’s not true—” she tried to interrupt.

“Yes, it is,” he said firmly. “And you know it. Maybe you’re
only realizing it now because Arrav has become
someone.”

His name cut through her heart like a knife.


Harshad smiled sadly. “Arrav always loved you. Even
when he had nothing. He stood by you when nobody else
did. You judged him for being poor, but look at him now.
He didn’t need to change to prove anything to you. He just
needed to become who he always was.”

Akruti’s breath caught in her throat.

“I was your fantasy, Akruti,” suddenly Harshad said softly.


“But Arrav was your reality. And you chose to ignore that
reality until it was too late.”

There was a pause. The silence between them felt heavy.

“Do you love him?” Harshad asked gently.

She looked down.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I can’t stop thinking


about him.”

Harshad placed a hand on her shoulder, like an older


brother more than a former crush.

“Then stop thinking. Start feeling,” he said. “Let him know


before you lose him forever. And... Please don’t drag me
into this anymore.”
He walked past her, back into the room.

Akruti stood frozen in the corridor, the weight of truth


crashing down on her. For the first time in years, she felt
completely lost.

The Letter Left Behind

Akruti stood in the corridor, her mind spiraling. Harshad’s


words echoed in her head over and over like a painful
refrain—“Arrav was your reality, and you chose to ignore
that.”

For a long time, she simply leaned against the wall, staring
blankly at the floor. The tears she had been holding back
finally spilled over. She wiped them away quickly when
she heard footsteps behind her.

It was Priya.

“Akruti…” she said softly. “Are you okay?”


Akruti tried to smile but failed. She looked away and
nodded. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”

Priya stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her


shoulder. “I saw you walking out with Harshad. I don’t want
to interfere, but I know something’s bothering you.”

Akruti sighed, her voice almost breaking. “I was so blind,


Priya. I always thought I wanted someone like
Harshad—confident, rich, perfect. But now… all I can think
about is Arrav. Everything he did, everything he was. And I
treated him like he was beneath me.”

Priya gave her a sad smile. “You’re not the first person to
realize someone’s worth too late.”

“But what if I really am too late?” Akruti asked, her voice


filled with panic. “What if I’ve lost him forever?”

Priya took her hand. “Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe… he’s
still waiting for you to understand what he’s always
known.”

Akruti stared at Priya, her lips trembling. “Do you think he


still… loves me?”
Priya looked away, thinking. “He might. But even if he
doesn’t, he deserves to know what’s in your heart. You
owe him the truth. Not for his sake—maybe for yours.”

That night, Akruti couldn’t sleep. She kept replaying the


moment Arrav didn’t hug her, the way he avoided her
eyes, the note she had read in his drawer. Her heart
ached with regret.

She didn’t want to wait anymore.

Chapter: A Morning of Unspoken Words

The next morning, Arrav woke up early. It was just 5


o'clock, and the sky outside was still painted with the
gentle hues of dawn. The cool breeze of Mumbai touched
his face as he opened the window, letting in the fresh
morning air. As he rubbed his eyes and stepped toward
the balcony, he noticed something that made his heart skip
a beat.

Akruti was already awake.

She stood quietly in the balcony, gazing at the horizon


where the sun was just beginning to rise. Her arms were
folded across her chest, and there was something about
the way she stood—silent, still—that told Arrav her mind
was crowded with thoughts.

Arrav paused for a moment. He had so much he wanted to


say to her, yet he found himself wordless. He didn't want
to disturb her, so he quietly walked toward the washbasin,
picked up his toothbrush, and started strolling slowly along
the edge of the balcony as he brushed his teeth.

Akruti, though seemingly lost in thought, noticed him. Her


eyes followed his every movement, but she didn't speak.
Deep inside, she wanted to—desperately. She wanted to
stop him, ask him something, maybe even share what was
troubling her, but something held her back. She stood
rooted, her lips slightly parted, her eyes uncertain.

Then, breaking the silence, Arrav finally spoke.

“What happened, Akruti? You look… worried.”

That simple question carried a warmth, a concern that


made Akruti’s heart flutter. She turned to him, her eyes
suddenly moist, as if she had been waiting for him to ask.
She opened her mouth to speak—but before she could
say a word, Keshav appeared at the door.
“Hey guys! Good morning!” Keshav called out cheerfully.

Startled, Akruti quickly wiped her eyes. Arrav took a step


back, recovering his composure.

“Good morning, Keshav,” Arrav replied with a polite smile.


Akruti simply nodded and forced a faint smile in return.

The moment had slipped away.

Arrav walked back inside and headed to the washroom to


freshen up. After a quick shower, he changed into his
formal clothes—ready for a new day at his office. As he
was packing his things, he glanced at the clock. It was
nearly time to leave.

Before stepping out, Arrav went to Harshad’s room.


Harshad was still lying on the bed, half-asleep, one arm
hanging off the side.

“Harshad,” Arrav said softly. “I'm heading out. I’ve got


some work at the office.”

Harshad opened one eye, nodded groggily, and muttered,


“Okay, bro. Take care.”
Arrav smiled faintly, appreciative of how supportive
Harshad had been during his stay. He picked up the keys
to Harshad’s Bullet and turned toward the living room
where the others were getting ready to leave.

This was the last morning they’d all be together—at least


for now. Each of them had plans. Their weekend getaway
had come to an end, and reality was calling them back to
their respective lives.

Arrav looked at each one of them—Keshav, Akash, Priya,


Kartik, and Anirudh. A sudden wave of emotion filled him.
In just a few days, he had formed strong bonds with
everyone, and though he wasn’t someone who easily
expressed emotions, this moment was different.

They all hugged each other tightly, wishing good luck,


sharing smiles and promises to stay in touch.

All except Akruti.

When he approached her, Arrav hesitated. The emotions


between them were complicated—unfinished. So instead
of a hug, he extended his hand for a polite handshake.
Akruti took it silently, their eyes meeting for a fleeting
second. In that one glance, volumes were spoken—but
none of it out loud.
“Thanks for the amazing party, Arrav,” said AKASH with a
wide smile.

“You made this weekend special,” added Priya.

Arrav smiled, nodding. “You're welcome, guys. I’ll


remember this weekend for a long time.”

He looked at Akruti one last time, hoping she would say


something—anything.

But again, silence.

Akruti’s heart was pounding. She wanted to stop him, to


ask why he had been distant lately. Why did he avoid her
eyes? Why did he always act like there was nothing
between them? She knew there was something—she felt
it in the way he looked at her, in the concern in his voice,
in the comfort of his presence.

But her lips refused to move.

As Arrav stepped out, Akruti turned away, pretending to


adjust her bag. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She
hated herself for not speaking up. She wanted to scream,
to tell him how much his silence was hurting her. But
instead, she simply watched him leave.

Arrav got on Harshad’s Bullet, adjusted his bag on his


back, and revved the engine. As he took one final look at
the apartment where so many memories had been made,
a strange emptiness settled in his chest.

The bike moved forward, cutting through the early morning


breeze, but his thoughts lingered behind.

His heart was heavy.

Not because he was going to the office.

But because he felt like he was leaving behind a part of


himself.

As he reached a traffic signal, he paused. The roads were


still relatively empty, the city just beginning to wake up. His
mind wandered back to Akruti’s face that morning. Her
silence spoke louder than words.

He thought of how she stood in the balcony, her eyes filled


with something unspoken. He remembered how she
turned away when their hands touched during the
handshake. It wasn’t just casual—he could feel the
trembling in her fingers.

“Why didn’t she say anything?” he murmured to himself.

But deep down, he knew the answer.

Because he hadn’t let her.

Because he had created a wall—out of fear, confusion,


maybe even pride.

He sighed and shook his head. “This isn’t the right time,”
he whispered, convincing himself.

Back at the apartment, Akruti stood alone in the balcony


again, watching the Bullet disappear into the distance. As
the sound of the engine faded, a single tear rolled down
her cheek.

Her heart ached.

She had rehearsed so many things to say. But in the end,


she had said nothing.
Nothing at all.

Meanwhile…

At the office, Arrav tried to focus on work. But his mind


kept drifting back. He opened his editing software, but the
timeline felt empty. Even the photos and videos in front of
him didn’t spark the same interest as they usually did.

Something was missing.

Or perhaps—someone.

He looked at his phone, tempted to message Akruti. Just a


“Hey” or “Are you okay?” would be enough to start a
conversation.

But he didn’t.

And neither did she.

The silence between them now felt louder than any


argument.

The Return of a Dreamer.


Two years had passed.

The city lights of Mumbai no longer felt unfamiliar to Arrav.


He had adapted, evolved, and grown beyond what he had
once imagined. From the small village lanes to the bustling
city streets, his journey was not just one of distance but of
transformation.

His editing institute had flourished. What had started as a


humble effort in a rented room had now become one of the
most well-known institutes in the city for photo and video
editing. Weddings, anniversaries, birthdays—people from
across the state came seeking his team’s services. His
story had inspired many small-town dreamers who had
similar hopes.

With success came change.

Arrav now lived in a luxurious house worth over 2 crores,


nestled in the heart of Mumbai. The house was his
dream—modern, spacious, with a private workspace for
editing. And just like Harshad once had, Arrav now drove
a brand-new BMW. Life had changed dramatically.

But not everything had.


Every now and then, when the day slowed down and the
nights became quiet, thoughts of Akruti returned.

“Is she married now?” he often wondered.

“Does she still think about me?”

And then another thought, darker, heavier—

“No, she must have moved on. Maybe she’s with Harshad
now.”

Those questions never left him completely.

They came and went like shadows—silent but always


present.

One quiet evening, as he sat on the balcony of his


high-rise apartment, watching the city lights blink like
stars, Arrav turned to Harshad.

“I want to visit the village,” he said.

Harshad looked surprised, but then smiled warmly. “It’s


been a long time. And I’ve already taken 15 days off. Let’s
go, bro.”
The plan was made. The next morning, Arrav called
Shruti.

“Shruti, I’m coming home tomorrow. Harshad is coming


with me.”

Shruti gasped in excitement. “What? Really, bhaiya?


That’s such great news! Mom and Dad will be so happy.”

“Please tell them,” he added, smiling softly. “I want to


surprise them.”

“I will,” Shruti replied, sitting at her desk in the SBI branch


office where she worked. “They usually sleep early, but I’ll
inform them in the morning. We can’t wait to see you!”

Arrav felt a wave of warmth in his chest.

That night, however, sleep didn't come easily. He turned in


bed, thinking of home, of Akruti, of the promise he had
once made to his sisters—to return with gifts.

His eyes drifted toward the ceiling fan, slowly rotating


above him.

“Is she still there…?” he wondered one last time, before


eventually slipping into sleep.
---

The next morning, Arrav shook Harshad awake.

“Bhai, wake up. It’s already 8.”

Harshad groaned, then sat up, yawning. “Let’s do this!”

Both of them got ready quickly. Arrav wore a crisp white


shirt with a slim-fit jacket, paired with expensive denim
jeans and shiny leather shoes. He wore his smartwatch
and slipped on stylish sunglasses that gave him a classy
yet charming look. Harshad, too, was well-dressed, ready
for the adventure.

As they were about to leave, Arrav suddenly remembered


his promise.

“I told Shruti and Payal I’d bring them something when I


came back,” he said, turning the BMW toward the biggest
mall in the city.

There, he bought the finest Belgian chocolates, imported


pens, and a beautiful leather bag for Shruti, knowing she
needed one for work. For Payal, he picked books from her
favorite author, art supplies, and more chocolates. Then
he walked into a clothing store and picked out gorgeous
traditional outfits for his parents—his mother always wore
simple, faded saris, and his father still wore the same dhoti
and kurta for every occasion.

“This time, they’ll wear something special,” Arrav


whispered to himself.

He placed all the gifts in a premium suitcase, zipped it up,


and loaded it into the car. The BMW engine roared to life
as they headed toward their village.

The road to the village was quiet and refreshing. Trees


lined either side, casting long shadows across the path.
Farmers could be seen working in the fields, and cattle
wandered lazily in the distance. As they neared the village,
a sense of nostalgia gripped Arrav.

So much had changed.

Big buildings stood where once small mud houses used to


be. Shops had grown into mini supermarkets. Roads were
now paved, and children carried school bags with pride.
But one thing hadn’t changed—his home.

It stood there, quietly, just as he remembered it.

As his BMW entered the narrow lane, villagers peeked out


of their windows. Their eyes widened in disbelief. Some
kids ran behind the car shouting, “Arrav bhaiya has come!
Arrav bhaiya!”

People gathered outside, watching the expensive car pull


in. As the door opened and Arrav stepped out—wearing
stylish sunglasses, a branded watch, and polished
shoes—the crowd stood in silence, stunned.

He looked like a movie star.

A few seconds later, his mother came rushing out of the


house.

Arrav dropped everything and hugged her tightly. Tears


rolled down her cheeks.

“My son has come back…,” she whispered.

His father walked up, placing a hand on Arrav’s shoulder


with pride. “You’ve made us proud, beta.”
Shruti and Payal ran outside, unable to contain their
excitement.

“Bhaiya!” they shouted in unison, hugging him together.

Harshad stood back, smiling, overwhelmed by the


welcome.

Soon, the entire village surrounded them. Everyone was


talking about how much Arrav had changed—how he had
become rich, successful, but still returned with love.

Shruti did an aarti at the entrance and welcomed Arrav


and Harshad inside the house. Flowers were placed at the
doorway. Payal brought water, and the aroma of hot poha
and tea filled the air.

After settling in, they all sat together and chatted, sharing
laughter and stories. Arrav then stood up and said, “Wait,
I’ve got something for all of you.”

He walked back to the car and came out with the bag full
of gifts.

First, he handed the chocolates, books, and pens to


Payal. Her eyes sparkled with joy.
“Thank you, bhaiya! You remembered! You really didn’t
forget your promise.”

Arrav ruffled her hair with affection.

Next, he gave the leather bag to Shruti.

“Oh my God! Bhaiya, this is beautiful,” she said, examining


every detail. “This is the best bag I’ve ever had.”

Then came the turn of his parents.

Arrav brought out the carefully chosen outfits. His mother


gasped as she unfolded the silk saree.

“Beta… this is too much,” she said, overwhelmed.

His father looked at the crisp new kurta and said, “I don’t
know when I last wore something like this.”

“You both deserve the best,” Arrav replied. “Always.”

They hugged him again, this time tighter.

Later that evening, as the sun set over the village fields,
Arrav sat alone on the rooftop. The cool breeze blew
through his hair, and the sky was bathed in orange and
pink.

His heart felt full, yet there was an emptiness he couldn’t


explain.

From a distance, a familiar voice echoed.

It was a little girl calling out to her mother—“Akruti tai!”

Arrav’s heart stopped.

He turned slowly, scanning the houses on the other side of


the field.

“Was that her?” he whispered.

“Is she still here?”

But he didn't move.

Not yet.

Some stories take time to return to.

For now, Arrav sat still, silently wondering if fate had more
in store for him—and for Akruti.
A Silence That Spoke Everything

The next day in the village was peaceful. Birds chirped


early in the morning, the soft sun filtered through the trees,
and the smell of wet mud after watering plants surrounded
Arrav's home. Arrav woke up early and decided to take a
walk around the village—alone.

He wore a simple kurta and jeans this time. No


sunglasses. No watch. Just Arrav—the village boy who
once dreamed of becoming something more.

As he walked past the old well, past the school he once


studied in, past the banyan tree where he and his friends
used to sit, he felt a strange calmness.

But his heart beat faster when he saw the temple.

He remembered everything—the day he last saw Akruti


standing there silently, looking at him, wanting to say
something but failing to. Just like he had failed to express
his heart to her.

He paused.
And then… he saw her.

There, on the steps of the temple, Akruti was standing.


Dressed in a simple yellow salwar suit, her hair tied in a
loose braid, eyes lost in the prayer she held in her hands.

Time seemed to stop.

Arrav couldn’t move for a moment. His heart thumped like


it used to when he saw her back in those days.

And then, Akruti looked up.

Their eyes met.

The prayer plate in her hands trembled slightly, but she


steadied it.

A few villagers noticed and greeted Arrav politely as they


passed. But Akruti and Arrav stood frozen, locked in a
gaze that said more than any words could.

After a pause that felt like a lifetime, Akruti spoke first.

“Arrav…?”
Her voice was soft, almost unsure, as if she couldn't
believe it was really him.

He took a breath. “Hi, Akruti.”

She blinked, trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes.


“You… you came back?”

“I had to. I missed home,” he said, managing a small


smile.

There was silence again.

Then Akruti looked down, avoiding his gaze. “You’ve


changed a lot.”

“You haven’t,” Arrav replied gently. “Still the same Akruti.


Calm. Beautiful. Quiet.”

Akruti looked at him again, hurt flashing in her eyes. “But


you didn’t say anything before leaving.”

Arrav stepped forward. “Because I was broken. I thought I


didn’t deserve you. I thought… you and Harshad…”

She interrupted, her voice trembling, “There was nothing


between me and Harshad. Never.”
Arrav froze. The words hit him like a storm.

“He was just a friend. Like a brother,” she added.

Arrav’s eyes widened. “But… then why—why didn’t you


say anything to me that night?”

Akruti looked down again. “Because you didn’t. I waited for


you to speak, Arrav. You walked away… you shook my
hand and walked away.”

The pain in her words was sharp. Years of unsaid


emotions poured through a few broken sentences.

Arrav felt his throat go dry. “I was a coward, Akruti. I


thought love required money, status, something to offer. I
had none. So I chose to leave.”

She wiped a tear that slipped from the corner of her eye.

“I never moved on,” she whispered. “Even after all this


time.”

A moment of silence stretched between them again.

Arrav stepped closer. “Neither did I.”


The prayer bell inside the temple rang loudly, but the two
of them stood there as if the whole world had disappeared.

Then Akruti smiled—faintly, shyly.

“You’ve become a big man now. Everyone says so.”

“I only became someone,” Arrav said, “so I could return


with pride—and maybe win the one thing I lost.”

Akruti looked at him, her eyes shining. “You didn’t lose


anything, Arrav. I was always here.”

They smiled—finally, after years of distance,


misunderstandings, and pain.

And that smile said what neither of them could say two
years ago.

The Next Step


The next day, news spread in the village that Arrav and
Akruti were seen together, laughing and walking near the
river. Everyone had something to say—but most were
happy. People respected Arrav now, not just for his
success but for staying grounded, respectful, and rooted.

That evening, Shruti noticed her brother smiling more than


usual.

“Bhaiya,” she teased, “should I tell Mom you’ve found your


reason to stay in the village longer?”

Arrav smiled. “You don’t need to. She already knows.”

Their mother had indeed noticed the glow on his face and
the way he looked at Akruti during dinner. She gave him a
quiet blessing with her eyes.

Later that night, after dinner, Arrav sat with his father
outside under the starry sky.

“Dad,” he began, “I want to ask you something.”

His father looked at him.

“I want to marry Akruti.”


A small smile spread across his father’s face. “I knew this
day would come. I’m happy, beta. Truly.”

The next day, with folded hands and humble hearts, Arrav
and his parents visited Akruti’s home. Her father, once
doubtful of Arrav’s future, now greeted him with pride.

“I’ve seen how far you’ve come, son,” he said. “You have
my blessings.”

Akruti, standing behind the curtain, closed her eyes and let
out a silent prayer of gratitude.

A Father’s Smile, A Mother’s Tears

When Arrav and his parents visited Akruti’s home, it was a


moment filled with both nervousness and warmth.

Akruti’s father, Mr. Shastri, was sitting on the porch,


reading a newspaper when they arrived. He stood up
slowly, a little surprised but curious. Her mother came out,
wiping her hands on her saree pallu, her expression
unsure but kind.

Arrav folded his hands respectfully. “Namaste, Uncle.


Namaste, Aunty.”
They greeted him with the same courtesy. Akruti stood
near the doorway, quietly watching.

Arrav’s father stepped forward. “We have come with a


proposal. Arrav wants to marry Akruti, with your
permission.”

For a moment, silence took over.

Akruti’s mother looked at her daughter, whose cheeks


turned pink with shyness but whose eyes clearly said yes.

Mr. Shastri put down his glasses, walked slowly toward


Arrav, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I misjudged you once, Arrav. I thought you were just a


dreamer with no direction. But today, you’ve not only
proved yourself—you’ve returned with humility, respect,
and love. That’s rare.”

He paused, his eyes turning moist. “You have our


blessing. And our daughter.”

Akruti’s mother wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled.


“All we ever wanted was someone who would respect her
heart. And we know you will, beta.”
Akruti’s eyes filled with tears. She stepped forward and
hugged her mother, and then gently held her father’s
hand. For the first time in years, there were no unsaid
words between them—only joy.

Later, as Arrav and Akruti sat outside with both their


families, laughter echoed across the house. They drank
tea together, exchanged memories, and shared plans for
the future.

Akruti’s mother took out a small box of sweets and fed


Arrav herself.

“Now you’re our son,” she said.

Mr. Shastri chuckled. “And I’ll finally stop worrying about


Akruti being alone. I know she’s in good hands.”

Epilogue: The Price of Love

Months later, the village witnessed a grand wedding—not


one filled with luxury or noise, but one filled with love,
respect, and truth.

Arrav and Akruti got married under the same banyan tree
where they once sat as school kids.
Harshad stood beside him as his best man, teasing and
cheering. Shruti and Payal danced with joy. The villagers
blessed them with smiles and stories of old times.

Arrav looked into Akruti’s eyes during the ceremony and


whispered, “I had to lose you once to understand what real
love costs.”

Akruti smiled through her tears. “And I waited to remind


you that love never truly leaves.”

Their journey had begun again—together.

Final Words: The True Success

As the wedding rituals concluded, and the village lights


shimmered like stars around them, Arrav looked at the
faces he loved—his parents, his sisters, Harshad, and
now Akruti’s smiling family.

This was what he had been searching for all along—not


just success in the city, but acceptance, love, and peace.

He whispered to himself, “This… this is the real price of


love. And I paid it with my heart.”
The End.

The book’s message became


clearer than ever:
"Never judge a book by its cover."

Because once upon a time, Arrav had seemed like a man unsure of love. He had
struggled with emotions, lost his way, and caused pain unintentionally. People
judged him too quickly, including Akruti at times. Some thought he wasn’t
serious, some believed he would never change.

But what they didn’t see was the heart beneath—the heart that was confused, not
cold. The heart that needed time, not rejection. The heart that needed healing.

And now, that same heart has become the anchor of a family.

He had grown from a confused lover to a dedicated husband, a passionate artist,


and a responsible man.

Similarly, Akruti had evolved from a girl wounded by false hopes into a woman of
patience, courage, and forgiveness. She taught love, but more importantly, she
taught the strength to stay and rebuild.

Their story wasn’t a fairytale. It was better—it was real.

It taught that relationships demand communication, that healing isn’t linear, and
that love doesn’t always arrive fully formed—it grows, breaks, and blossoms
again.

On their first anniversary, they hosted a dinner at their home.


Photos of their journey—old college pictures, editing classes, their first client
project, wedding photos—lined the walls. Every guest who walked in paused to
admire the timeline of their love.

Shruti and Payal were present. Harshad brought along his girlfriend. Everyone
was smiling, celebrating not just a marriage, but the message it carried.

At the end of the evening, Arrav stood up to make a toast.

“To Akruti,” he began. “Who saw my soul before I even understood myself. Who
waited when walking away would've been easier. And to everyone here… who
supported us, guided us, or even doubted us. You helped us grow. This love story
isn’t perfect—but it’s ours. And that makes it beautiful.”

Akruti smiled through her tears.

Their book closes with one final line:

Love is not always loud. Sometimes, it whispers through pain, walks through
silence, and finally… arrives with open arms.

And just like that, Arrav and Akruti proved that no matter how broken the
beginning is, the ending can still be magical.

Because you should never judge a book by its cover.

Note:"This story is fictional, but its message is clear:


never underestimate the power within someone. I
sincerely urge you to take this to heart.”

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