Location: DELHI, CHANDNI CHOWK
Time:5:00pm
MMC AGE: 34
FMC AGE: 24
AUTHOR'S POV
Delhi breathes love in its chaos. The air hums with honking cars and whispered secrets. The old lanes of Chandni Chowk still smell of rose water and history, while the new glass towers of Connaught Place gleam with ambition. Somewhere between the past and the present, the city learns the art of holding heartbreak and hope in the same heartbeat.
The morning sun falls softly over Delhi, gilding its rooftops in liquid gold. The breeze carries the faint perfume of lilies from a street vendor's cart, tangled with the scent of freshly brewed chai. Lovers walk beneath bougainvillea-draped balconies, their laughter drowned in the city's hum - yet somehow, Delhi makes every heartbeat sound like poetry.
In the midst of this, Amaya stands at the street of Chandni Chowk with someone close to her heart - that's what she calls him. With lilies in one hand and a cup of chai from Nagori in the other, she walks beside Aleksander toward the Red Fort, where his bike is parked.
"Alek, look at that cute little baby!"
She gestures toward a five-month-old child, warmth and wonder lighting her hazel eyes.
They sparkle like sunlight caught in honey - almond-shaped, golden-flecked, eyes that could drown anyone who looks too long.
Aleksander glances briefly. "Hmm."
"What hmm! You really don't have emotions, do you?" she scolds playfully.
"I'm showing you one of the finest creations of God and you say hmm?"
She waves her free hand in exasperation, the chai in her other hand swirling dangerously close to the rim.
"Why are you being so boring, man? Try to live a little!"
They reach the Gurudwara, where a mild crowd hums with prayers and chatter. The air is thick with the sound of chanting, vendors calling out, and the faint jingling of trinkets.
They discarded the empty cup of chai in the trashcan when a boy comes to them.
"Ma'am, why don't you try these gajras? They'll look good on you," a teenage boy offers with a shy grin.
A gleam passes through Amaya's eyes. Before she can respond, the boy turns to Aleksander.
"Sir, why don't you buy these for your girlfriend? She's beautiful - she'll look perfect in them."
Aleksander looks at the boy, then at Amaya's glowing face. He knows how much she loves gajras - her favorite adornment. Without a word, he takes out his wallet and pays.
"Thnx baby for coming here. I was wondering when this boring man would do something romantic," she teases, giggling as Aleksander gives her a mock look of disapproval.
"You just called him 'baby'?" Aleksander raises a brow.
"So what? Should I call a grown-ass man like you 'baby' instead?" she shoots back with a grin.
"He's grown too. Look at him - he's practically an adult."
"I'm only fifteen, uncle. Not like you," the boy says cheekily.
Amaya bursts into laughter. "Did he just call you an uncle?"
Aleksander sighs. "Aren't you talking too much for a fifteen-year-old?"
"I'm just saying the truth," the boy shrugs.
"See, Alek! Even he agrees. You're such a boring man," Amaya says, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.
"Huh! A boring man? Then buy your own gajras. I'm not giving these to you."
Amaya's mouth drops open. "Don't be like that, Alek! You know these are my favorite."
"You should've thought of that before calling me boring."
The boy and a few passersby watch their playful argument until a man from the crowd laughs and says,
"Man, this is every girl's problem. They tease you first, and when you don't play along, they start emotional blackmail. I'm so done with it - but I love it too."
His girlfriend elbows him immediately, starting another mini argument beside them.
"See, Alek? Everyone agrees - it's just teasing. You know I love you," Amaya says with mock innocence.
"Ma'am, he's just giving you a taste of your own medicine," another man chimes in, making Amaya grin.
Yeah - this is Delhi. People speak before you even realize they're listening. You might find it intrusive, but here, it's just their way of being friendly.
"He's right," the teenage boy adds, before running off as Aleksander shoots him a glare.
"Now, are you going to tie this gajra on my wrist, or should we stand here all evening while strangers give us advice?" Amaya laughs.
Aleksander shakes his head, but his eyes soften as he takes her hand.
The evening sun melts into pink and orange clouds, and the air fills with the aroma of sizzling food and incense. It feels like a dream - like a scene from a film.
He gently ties the gajras around her wrists. Amaya watches him the entire time, her gaze steady, her heart full. When their eyes meet, the world quiets for a moment.
Then she breaks the silence, voice soft and childlike. "Umm... can we have some ice cream, please?"
Aleksander sighs. "You were sick last week because of ice cream. You catch a cold too easily. I'm not risking it again."
"I won't get sick! And you're only leaving for five days - it's not a big deal."
Before he can reply, she runs toward the ice cream stall - Softy Boy - and stands there with a pout, like a child denied her favorite candy.
Aleksander sighs again. "Why are you staring at me now? Order it already."
"I can't eat while you're sulking," she says, snatching his phone playfully.
"If you don't smile, my food might get spoiled."
"Alright, alright. Look, I'm smiling." He forces a small, gentle grin.
"Better." She nods approvingly and orders cookies-and-cream.
"By the way, I wanted kulfi, but we'll have it after you come back, okay?"
He glances at his watch. "It's almost late. Don't you have to meet your brother? You asked him to come home early today."
Her eyes widen. She takes her ice cream and starts eating it fast, walking ahead. Aleksander catches up, shaking his head.
"Eat slowly but walk fast. You can eat it on the bike."
He takes her hand and pulls her along, but she stops suddenly.
"What now?"
he asks, turning to her. Her mouth is full, ice cream dripping down her chin. He wipes it gently with his fingers.
"My lilies!"
she gasps, looking around frantically.
She said while checking him and her bag but they were nowhere to be found
"They were with you"
Aleksander said but she made a crying face.
"You remember if you left them somewhere or threw them while walking?"
He asked ranking while scrunching his eyebrows together.
"Yess, yes"
She jumped and some of the ice cream flicks came on his shirt but he ignored and wiped the ice cream smeared fingers on his shirt as MS.Amaya forgot her hanky at home and he lost his on their way while coming here on the bike.
Her face falls. "I think I left them at Nagori Chai Wala."
"It's far, Amaya. Leave it - we'll buy another on the way."
"No! You gave me those lilies. I want them back."
"I also gave you gajras - they're flowers too," he says, pointing at her wrists.
"These are roses, Alek! Not lilies. Duffer!"
He exhales in defeat. "What do you want me to do then?"
"I want those lilies."
He notices people starting to watch again and decides not to argue. "Alright, wait here. I'll go get them."
"But it's too far to walk. How will you-"
He shrugs. "I'll manage. I can walk this much for you. It's my duty to obey your orders - after all, I have to look after you now."
Her cheeks flush pink, but she hides her smile and walks toward the parked bike.
Twenty minutes later, Aleksander returns, lilies in hand - not the same, but close enough. Amaya beams, kisses the flowers, then his hand.
"Thanks, Alek."
He didn't find any lilies at nagori so he brought another one with the same packing .
He helps her put on the helmet, fastening the strap carefully. She hops on the bike behind him.
The ride back feels quiet - not empty, just filled with something unsaid.
Outside her house, she hops off. He looks at her - the girl with the gajras, holding lilies, framed in golden dusk.
"You know I love you, right? And for all the hard work you did today-"
"Don't butter me," he cuts in, though his tone is soft.
"I'm not buttering you. Just giving you credit where it's due."
She fumbles with the helmet clip, failing miserably.
He unclips it for her, then doesn't remove it. Instead, he grips the lower edge and pulls her close. She stumbles slightly, catching herself against his arm.
"I can take credit for my hard work in many ways," he murmurs.
"None of which include you thanking me at your doorstep."
Their helmets touch, breaths mingling for a heartbeat. Then Amaya steps back.
"It's 6:35 pm. I'm late - Bhai must be waiting." She removes the helmet and hands it to him.
"A surprise will be waiting for you when you come back," she says dreamily.
"I'll bring one for you too - a massive one. You'll be shocked."
His blue eyes darken slightly.
"I'll look forward to it." Amaya said
"Don't work too hard, and remember me." She kisses his helmet lightly and walks toward her house.
He watches her go, his voice low, almost a whisper.
"How could I forget you, Amaya? You're the one I've been waiting to convince - the one I made trust me so deeply that you want me to think of you."
His eyes are no longer clear. The sky reflects the shade of his thoughts - blue, but heavy.
He looks at her door one last time.
That house - the same one he once entered as a business associate.
As a brother.
As a protector.
And left with nothing.