Chapter 6: The Boy Who Lit My Darkness

At thirteen, Siya didn't feel thirteen.

She had seen too much.

Felt too much.

Carried too much.

After that brutal night when her father hit her with a pipe, something inside her cracked—but not in a way that broke her.

It cracked like a seed breaking open underground.

Something was starting to grow.

Outwardly, she was quiet now.

No questions, no arguments.

Just silent eyes and a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her soul.

But inside?

Inside, a storm was forming.

A warrior was being carved.

She found comfort in just one person—her aunt.

Not the older type, but the one just five years older than her—her partner in crime, her emotional diary.

They lived next door, shared secrets, shared food, shared every shade of their growing-up chaos.

She was Siya's mirror, anchor, and best friend when the world seemed too heavy to hold.

Every time something went wrong, Siya would just say one word—

"Bua..."

And her aunt would listen, laugh, scold, or hug—whatever Siya needed. No judgment. No rules. Just love.

💫 The Spark — Late October Evening

It was a golden dusk—the kind that makes everything look like poetry.

Siya stood outside the temple, laughing with kids, her dupatta flying in the wind.

A playful moment after days of suffocating quiet.

But then—

her world stopped.

Across the road, a boy was walking.

Not just walking—glowing.

He wasn't a celebrity.

Not famous.

Not even talking to her.

But when their eyes met… it was like the wind changed direction.

He looked once.

She looked back.

He looked again.

And she forgot how to breathe.

Tall. Lean. A sharp jawline. Messy hair.

Eyes that spoke a language only hearts could understand.

He crossed the road.

Then crossed back.

And she just stood there, watching, like time had folded in half.

When she came home that night, her cheeks were warm and her heartbeat refused to slow down.

"If I see him again this week, I'll propose. Pakka."

She promised herself.

But he didn't come.

One week passed.

Two.

Nothing.

🖤 The Black Day of Magic

Mid-November arrived like a sleepy poem.

Siya had almost convinced herself it was all a dream.

Until that one day.

She was wearing her favorite black kurti, playing near the same temple.

And then... there he was.

Again.

Crossing the road.

Wearing a black kurta.

Matching her like fate had dressed them both.

She looked at him.

He looked back.

And for the first time, she blushed.

A deep, innocent blush that made her feel alive again.

This wasn't just a crush.

This was the moment her silent heart had been waiting for.

She told her aunt everything.

And of course, her bua giggled like they were both in some cute Bollywood plot.

📸 Fate with a Flash – The Wedding Twist

Then came her aunt's engagement.

And Siya tagged along to the birthday party of the bride-to-be.

And there—across the decorations, lights, and snacks—she saw him again.

This time, with a camera.

Click. Flash. Smile.

He wasn't a guest—he was the photographer.

His name?

Rupesh.

She heard someone say he worked at his brother's photography studio.

She couldn't believe her luck.

"This is a sign," she whispered.

"He's destiny."

That night, in her excitement, she was walking too fast…

and almost bumped straight into Rupesh.

Her heart exploded.

Almost getting hit by your crush? Iconic.

She couldn't stop smiling.

Not then. Not after. Not even in her dreams.

🎉 The Reception… and the Ruin

The wedding came and went, and Siya stayed focused—watching for Rupesh, always near, always close.

She adjusted her dupatta five times a minute.

Fixed her hair. Rehearsed her lines.

"Hi… I really like you."

"Hi… we keep meeting. I think it means something."

"Hi, I'm Siya and I think you're… everything."

She didn't know what she would say exactly,

but she was ready to say something.

Then came the reception night at the groom's house—her chosen moment.

Everything was perfect.

Fairy lights. Music. Her black bangles matching her earrings.

She even had a tiny gift tucked in her dupatta, just in case.

She spotted him across the courtyard—camera slung over shoulder, lens cap off, eyes scanning the crowd.

Now. Just go. Walk up. Do it.

And then… she stopped mid-step.

She saw him walk toward another girl.

A soft smile on his face.

The same smile he had given her.

She didn't know the girl.

Someone from the groom's side.

Rupesh leaned in.

Held something in his hand.

A flower?

No. A ring.

He proposed.

To her.

And Siya stood there, frozen.

Her mouth dry.

Her cheeks burning not from blush… but from heartbreak.

She turned and walked away.

Didn't cry.

Didn't scream.

Just held the tiny gift tighter in her hand.

And whispered to herself:

"So this is what it feels like... when the heart doesn't break—but just folds quietly."

🌙 End of the Beginning

That night, she didn't sleep.

She stared at the ceiling, the same ceiling she had stared at when her father hit her, when her uncle betrayed her, when her own brother lied.

This pain was different.

Not violent.

But silent.

Gentle.

Soft.

The kind of pain that teaches you not to expect too much from beautiful things.

But even through the ache… Siya smiled.

Because this too had taught her something.

She could love.

She could dream.

She could imagine softness after storms.

And even if she wasn't chosen,

even if she wasn't his forever—

She had finally felt something that made her heart beat again.