Hastony

In the heart of Delhi’s glittering elite, Aarav Mehra has everything—wealth, power, and the future of his family's empire in his hands. But behind the designer suits and glass towers lies a heart that once beat for something simple, something real: Rhea Sharma.

She was everything he wasn’t. Fiercely independent, emotionally raw, and delightfully chaotic. A girl from a middle-class world who hated rich boys and yet unknowingly became the only story he ever wanted to write.

Their love bloomed quietly—through poetry scribbled in second-hand books, late-night noodles, and rooftop promises under fairy lights. But time, pride, and fate had their own plans.

Ten years later, on the night of his engagement, Aarav stands alone at his window, holding a faded silver bracelet—the last piece of a love that never left, and the memory of a girl who taught him that even winter can make lilies bloom.

A bittersweet romance laced with humor, heartbreak, and hope—this is the story of a love that never died, but maybe… wasn’t meant to live.

When Lilies Bloom in Winter

Aarav turned just as a girl in a yellow kurta slammed the door of the auto he was about to sit in. She looked furious—and completely out of breath.

"Yours?" Aarav raised an eyebrow. "You weren't even here."

"Yeah, because I was running for my life from a street dog to get to this auto."

The driver looked between the two, confused and mildly entertained.

Aarav chuckled. "Fine. You take it."

He stepped back. The girl blinked in surprise. Most Delhi rich kids would've argued, or worse—thrown money. He just smiled and let it go.

"Thanks…" she mumbled, a little awkwardly, as she got in.

"Don't thank me," he said, "Just hope the dog doesn't follow."

The auto zoomed off. She didn't look back.

Aarav Mehra wasn't your typical billionaire heir. Yes, he wore Armani to class, had a driver who doubled as a bodyguard, and his backpack probably cost more than most tuitions. But beneath it all, he was... curious.

The girl with almond eyes, a sarcastic tongue, and a polka-dot umbrella.

She studied literature, took buses instead of cabs, and had a deep, almost philosophical hatred for "rich boys who think life is a checklist."

"So, what do you want to be?" he asked one day, trying not to sound too interested.

"Happy," she said, flipping through her poetry book.

He laughed. "That's not a career."

She looked at him, serious for the first time. "Neither is being born with everything and still searching for more."

Especially when his mother thought she was "a charming distraction," and her father thought he was "a walking red flag in Gucci."

On rooftops with cheap fairy lights.

In bookstores where they left notes inside novels neither of them could afford.

He started keeping instant noodles in his penthouse.

She started sneaking him poetry written under dim hostel lights.

And sometimes, late at night, he'd read her verses out loud to the city skyline and whisper, "She's going to break my heart someday."

They grew up. Or rather, life forced them to.

Aarav was pulled deeper into the business empire. Rhea got a scholarship abroad.

They promised to meet on New Year's Eve.

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Hated Rich Boys