(Aryan pov)
Poverty.
It’s not something I lived with in this life, but somehow, it lives in my memories. I don’t know why, but sometimes when I sit quietly, I can still feel the cold stone floor under my bare feet. Smell the smoke from clay lamps. Hear the clang of swords and feel the ache of hunger.
I don’t know who I was then... but I wasn’t Aryan Singh Rajawat.
I was someone else.
Someone who lived without parents. Without wealth. Without anything but strength and silence.
Even now, in this life of comfort, a part of me remembers the pain of having nothing.
I shook my head and focused on the present. I was in my Delhi office, checking over designs for a hotel renovation. A knock came at the door.
It was Priya, our receptionist. “Sir, your brother Yuvraj is on the call.”
I picked it up instantly.
“Finally remembered me, bhai?” I said with a grin.
Yuvraj chuckled from the other end. “I’m landing in Delhi tomorrow. There’s a major project deal with a builder here. I’ll grab it, then stay at your place. Hope you haven’t turned the apartment into a jungle.”
“Reva and I are still surviving. No jungle yet. Come over, but bring snacks,” I teased.
“Only if you promise not to show me your boring dream journal again.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
He disconnected.
I didn’t know that the moment he stepped into Delhi, something would shift. Paths would cross. Lives would stir. And one lipstick would change everything.
(Author’s POV)
Yuvraj Singh Rajawat was the kind of man who walked into a room and made heads turn. Sharp suit, sharper jawline, and eyes that calculated everything.
He was done with his project meeting and decided to stop by the mall to pick up gifts for his younger siblings. He had a soft spot for Aryan and Reva, though he’d never admit it out loud.
On the other side of the mall, Adhya Rajput walked in like a storm.
She was in a rush. College had drained her, and she just wanted one thing: a new lipstick. Her old one had vanished, and a girl couldn’t face the day without her favorite shade of “Blush Wine.”
As fate would have it, the lipstick purchase was a success.
But the journey wasn’t.
Just as she turned to leave the cosmetic store, her shoulder slammed into someone.
Her lipstick flew in the air… and smacked onto the floor with a dramatic CRACK.
Her mouth fell open.
“Oh my God!” she gasped. “My lipstick!”
Yuvraj looked down at the broken cosmetic stick like it was some ancient artifact.
“Watch where you’re going,” he snapped.
“You bumped into me!” Adhya fired back, pointing a finger at him.
“You were walking like a tank!” Yuvraj said.
Adhya’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me, uncle?”
He blinked. “Did you just call me—UNCLE?”
People around them started giggling.
“I’m 32,” he said, offended.
“You still qualify for uncle zone,” she said, folding her arms.
“Oh great. I meet a lipstick terrorist in a mall.”
“Lipstick terrorist? Seriously?”
By now, a small crowd had formed.
“She’s going to cry!” someone whispered.
“He’s totally her ex!” someone else said.
“I don’t even know her!” Yuvraj exclaimed.
“And I’m pretty sure you own five face creams,” Adhya shot back, eyeing his flawless skin.
Their banter was absurd. Loud. Ridiculous.
And unforgettable.
They both stormed off in opposite directions.
Later that evening, in Aryan’s apartment…
Yuvraj was sitting on the couch with a drink in hand, shaking his head.
“I had the worst mall experience of my life today,” he muttered.
Reva looked up from her notes. “What happened?”
“Some girl crashed into me and shattered her lipstick. Then she started yelling. Called me UNCLE.”
Reva burst out laughing. “Oh God, poor lipstick uncle!”
Aryan chuckled, pouring water into his glass. “Maybe you do look older.”
“She said I use face cream!”
“You do,” Aryan and Reva said in unison.
Meanwhile, a few miles away…
Sadhvi was home when Adhya barged in, holding the remains of her broken lipstick like a wounded soldier.
“Do not talk to me,” she said dramatically, kicking off her shoes.
“What happened to you?” Sadhvi asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I had a battle with a rude businessman in the mall. He was arrogant, rude, and—he called me a lipstick terrorist!”
Sadhvi tried not to laugh. “What?”
“He broke my lipstick!”
“You dropped it.”
“No—I was attacked by his sharp suit!”
They both laughed.
“Anyway,” Adhya said, slumping on the bed, “I called him uncle. That was the highlight.”
Sadhvi smirked. “I think I want to meet this uncle.”
Adhya threw a cushion at her.
The next morning at Rajawat Design Studio
Rakshit stepped into the office, tan from the Bangalore sun and buzzing with news.
Aryan looked up from his sketchpad. “Back already?”
“Delhi missed me,” Rakshit grinned. “And I got us a new client.”
He tossed a file onto Aryan’s table.
“Hospital design. Want it?”
“Of course,” Aryan said, flipping through the file.
As they worked, Aryan hesitated, then said, “Rakshit, I had that dream again.”
Rakshit sighed, dramatic as ever. “Temple? Fire? Screaming? Cold marble? Mysterious girl?”
“Yes. And this time, I saw our wedding.”
“Oh wow, should I design your honeymoon palace too?”
Aryan groaned. “You never take it seriously.”
Rakshit winked. “Because you’re talking like a Bollywood time-travel hero. Dreams are dreams, Aryan. Don’t overthink.”
But deep down, Aryan knew it was more than a dream.
Aryan and Rakshit’s bond began at the age of 14, in an unexpected place—an orphanage. Aryan, who visited once a year with his parents for donations, met Rakshit there for the first time when he found him being bullied by a group of older teens. Without hesitation, Aryan stepped in and stood up for him. That moment sparked a friendship that only grew stronger with time.
Moved by Rakshit’s kindness and strength despite his circumstances, Aryan requested his parents to let Rakshit live with them. They agreed, welcoming him like a son. For years, Rakshit was part of the Rajawat household, treated no differently than Aryan himself.
At 18, Rakshit chose to step out on his own—wanting to earn, build, and create something without depending on anyone. His intelligence and hard work earned him a scholarship to the same college as Aryan, and together, they pursued architecture, turning their bond into a shared dream.
Though Rakshit is kind-hearted and often the funniest one in the room, he never took Aryan’s strange recurring dreams seriously. To him, life is about the present, while Aryan seems haunted by a past he can’t fully remember.
Despite their differences, their friendship is unshakable—built on loyalty, respect, and a lifetime of brotherhood that began with a single act of kindness.
(Sadhvi’s POV)
The day was bright. My mood was light.
Adhya’s mall drama had given me enough laughter for a week. It make me forget that dream for sometime.
But something strange happened that evening.
I was walking home, phone in hand, headphones in, lost in thoughts when I stepped off the pavement.
I didn’t see the car coming.
I heard a loud honk. My eyes widened.
But before anything could happen, a strong hand gripped my arm and pulled me back.
I gasped and looked up.
A man stood there. Tall. Handsome. Sharp features, black shirt, eyes that felt oddly cold.
“Careful,” he said softly.
My heart skipped.I turned to thank him again, but… he was gone.
Vanished, like a whisper in the wind.
The street was full of noise—horns, voices, footsteps—but everything felt far away. My heart was still racing, not just from the near accident, but from something else.
The way he looked at me.
He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t panic. He just… stared. As if he knew me. Not just from here, not from Delhi. But from somewhere else. Somewhere far beyond what I could remember.
There was something in his eyes.
Not kindness.
Not familiarity.
But power. Control. Darkness wrapped in silence.
His presence lingered like the scent of burning sandalwood—deep and ancient.
I didn’t even see where he went. It was like the earth swallowed him whole.
A strange unease settled in my chest. I looked around, searching for anyone else who may have seen him. A few people stood at a distance, watching curiously, but no one seemed to care that a stranger had saved me.
I wrapped my arms around myself and started walking.
But the back of my neck still burned… like his gaze was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.
And that thought scared me more than the car.
(Author’s POV)
He walked away calmly.
Blending into the moving crowd like water returning to the ocean.
His black coat danced slightly in the wind. His steps were silent, like they didn’t belong to this earth.
The man who saved Sadhvi was not just anyone.
He wasn’t a passerby.
He wasn’t a hero.
He was something else.
His lips curved into a faint smile as he turned into a quiet alley. A street cat hissed at him and ran.
He pulled out a silver ring from his pocket—ancient, worn, etched with two serpents eating each other’s tails. The symbol of eternity. Of cycles. Of lifetimes.
And he wore it slowly, twisting it as if waking something up.
“She doesn’t remember me yet,” he said to himself, his voice smooth but hollow. “But she will.”
His gaze drifted toward the horizon. Toward a temple that no longer stood. Toward a time long gone. Toward a secret buried beneath centuries of fire and betrayal.
“She’s still drawn to him…” he whispered. “Even now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
And when he opened them again, they were no longer human.
For a flash—just a flash—his eyes shimmered like molten gold, flickering like flames beneath glassess.
He may be from this world but not entirely.
Not from this life.
He wasn’t Agastya.
And he wasn’t Aryan.
He was something else entirely.
A shadow from the past.
A name lost in the ruins of memory.
But he remembered everything.
Every scream. Every betrayal. Every sacred vow broken by fate.
And he was here now.
Not to love.
Not to save.
But to claim.
to finish what was started.
This time, he would not be erased.
This time, she would remember him too.
Whether she wanted to… or not.
(Sadhvi’s POV)
I reached home, but even as I closed the door behind me, I didn’t feel safe.
Not really.
Not in the way I used to.
I glanced out the window.
No one was there.
But something inside me whispered otherwise.
Something old.
Something forgotten.
A chill crept through my spine. I didn’t know who he was… but my soul did.
And deep, deep down, I knew :
This wasn’t the last time I would see him.
And when I did…
Everything would change.
Again.
Forever.
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