Location: Mumbai, India
The city was asleep. The breeze-intoxicating.
Ivikaa closed her eyes. Her hair flew wildly with the wind, whispering secrets only the night understood. She could feel his body-tense at first, cautious, controlled. Her hand moved instinctively, grazing his back with a feather-light touch. He loosened. Shoulders softening. Breathing syncing.
Up ahead, Raha shouted into the void, wild and luminous, her laughter echoing like a soundtrack to a life Ivikaa never had.
Ivikaa stayed silent. She wasn't trying to speak.
She just wanted to feel.
The road.
The ride.
And him.
She rested her head on Adwait's back, letting herself fall into a quiet so deep, it felt sacred.
Then-
Rain.
Soft. Cold. Sudden.
Ivikaa blinked and whispered, "Adwait."
No response. Right-helmet.
She tapped his shoulder. He slowed, pulled to the side of the road, and unlatched his helmet.
"Kya hua?" he asked, voice threaded with concern.
[What happened?]
"I hate rain," she admitted, louder than she meant to.
He smirked faintly, brushing water off his face.
"Hold tightly," he said.
The bike jerked forward. She grabbed him instinctively, wrapping her arm around his waist. He zoomed past Raha and signaled to turn left.
They pulled up at a tiny tea stall beneath an old banyan tree. Adwait parked. Raha leapt off, adrenaline still bubbling.
"Raha, gir jaogi. Idhar ruko." The big-brother voice. She obeyed immediately.
[Raha, you'll slip, Stay here.]
He glanced at Ivikaa. She shook her head. He left.
"Rain rides are therapy, Iva. You should try driving," Raha beamed.
"I'm fine being Adwait's passenger princess," Ivikaa quipped before she could stop herself.
Raha gasped dramatically. "Ohmygod, same! We go camping too! Like, literally. Secret forest trips-our little thing!"
She suddenly froze, realizing she'd blurted more than she should've. "Crap. I'm so dead."
Ivikaa tilted her head. "Wait. You go camping... with him?"
"Yup. Like, half the time he's in the jungle anyway, so we sneak out. You think Rudra bhaiya would let me? Please." She rolled her eyes. "Lowkey, he's the only person who really gets me."
Ivikaa lowered her voice. "Raha... Did he really... fail?"
"Are you ashamed of him?" The innocent hit landed like a slap.
Before she could answer, Adwait returned with tea. Raha squealed and grabbed hers.
"You HAVE to try this, Iva. It's like... healing. Bhaiya, tell her!"
"Parisian coffee ki aadat hai toh meri Indian chai-" he started sipping his tea.
"Wait-what?" Ivikaa blinked. He... said that.
Raha cackled. "Bro, you never share your chai! Let her try!"
Adwait held up his cup to order more-but Ivikaa swiped it from his hand and took a sip.
Spiced. Minty. Sweet. Too sweet. But oddly perfect.
"Not just tea, Adwait," she said, holding his gaze, "I could devour a whole Indian man too. Had something sweet recently... didn't even throw up." Secretly passing a smirk.
Raha lost it. "Bhaiya, your tea's been hijacked!"
Ivikaa raised the cup. "You better order another. This one's mine now."
Raha took a snap, giggling. "First tea alert!"
The picture showed Ivikaa sipping Adwait's tea-while he looked at her like she was something he hadn't figured out yet.
Ivikaa forgot she hated the rain.
She forgot why she came.
There was just this-him, tea, drizzle, and a thunderstorm inside her chest.
They stayed a while, then rode back, slowly. Rain grew louder. She leaned into Adwait, hand on his shoulder, heart quieter now.
"Adwait," she whispered again. Just because it felt right to say his name.
"Haan?" [Yes.]
"Why don't you talk?", she asked softly.
He felt her shiver. Without a word, he reached down, took her hand, and gripped it-firm, warm.
"Mujhe bolne ki zarurat nahi padti.", he replied nonchalantly.
"You mean people just... get you?", Iva clearly asked.
He nodded. "Aapko kya baat karni hai?"
[What do you want to talk about?]
She hesitated. "Raha meets you in secret. Because you're-"
"10th fail?"
"I didn't mean it like that-"
"It's fine. Fact hai. Plus, can't ruin Agnivanshi izzat, right?" he shrugged, as if his self-worth didn't hang on others' validation.
[Can't Ruin Agnivanshi's reputation.]
More rain. He slowed down, glancing at Raha. "Raha, slower."
"Ji bhaiya! But best ride of my life," she yelled and spun her bike slightly.
"Chhokri gandi thai gayi chhe!" Adwait shouted in Gujarati.
[Girl has gone mad.]
"Gujarati?" Iva asked.
A nod. And silence again.
They reached the palace basement. Raha sneezed.
"Bhaiya, I need to change before Mumma smells this rebellion. Bye!", she was in hurry.
"Raha. Keys.", Adwait quickly spoke before she could leave
She tossed them. "You never forget!" and bolted.
Adwait leaned on the bike, arms crossed. Ivikaa approached him slowly. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder.
"Adwait," she murmured.
"Kyun?", he asked indicating why she kept resting her head on his shoulder.
[Why?]
She looked up. "I don't know."
Her eyes met his. Storm-grey.
He recited softly, his Sanskrit fluent and warm:
"कार्पण्यदोषोपहतस्वभावः पृच्छामि त्वां धर्मसंमूढचेताः। यच्छ्रेयः स्यान्निश्चितं ब्रूहि तन्मे शिष्यस्तेऽहं शाधि मां त्वां प्रपन्नम्॥"
Ivikaa stared, speechless.
"Bhagavad Gita. Chapter 2. Shloka 7. Means-when in doubt, ask God."
She opened her mouth, hesitated. He smirked.
"In Raha's words-*when vibes are off, cc God in your thoughts.*"
They laughed. Quiet. Real.
Then they walked in. Just like that.
-
Later, after a hot shower and drying her hair, Ivikaa spotted a tray by her bed. A white envelope and something leafy.
She opened it.
'No smoking near Adwait Sir. - Martin Pearl.'
Of course.
Then-
A dried leaf. Inked with four cryptic words:
'When Krishna was born.'
Right-the riddle.
She rolled her eyes.
"Seriously, Adwait? A holy timestamp and an herbal memo?"
She tossed the paper back and exhaled.
For the first time in years, she chose not to work through the night. Instead, she stepped out, lived a little, laughed more, and finally let herself rest.
Rain, rebellion, and riddles. At this point, even God's like-girl, you're on your own.
---
Next Day -
Riddle - A dried leaf. Garden, maybe? But when?
'When Krishna was born'.
Ivikaa frowned at the note, trying to decode it. She instinctively reached for her phone to text Maya-then paused. The memory of their last fallout flashed in her mind, and the irritation returned. Nope. Not today.
Just then, her phone lit up.
Papa.
Her lips curved into an involuntary smile as she swiped to answer.
"Good morning, Papa," she said, her tone brighter than usual.
"Good morning, my princess," came the warm, familiar voice. "How's my star doing?"
They chatted for a few moments, catching up on everything and nothing. Then, out of nowhere, Ivikaa remembered Adwait's words echoing in her mind:
When in doubt, ask God.
"Papa, instinct or intellect?" she asked suddenly.
"Instinct. Always. Instinct over everything," he replied without missing a beat. Then added knowingly, "I heard about the fire incident."
Ivikaa chuckled, "There's always fire when I'm around, Papa. You know that."
"No, I disagree. You're silky fire," he teased.
"Papa!" she groaned, laughing.
"No really. You're my fire. And when fire meets more fire-it's lava. Destruction guaranteed."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "By any chance... are you talking about Rudra?"
"My daughter isn't just beautiful after all," he said with proud amusement.
Ivikaa smiled, warmed by the compliment. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "What about water?"
A quick image flashed in her mind-Adwait, soaked in rain, silent and calm.
"Water and fire together?" her father mused. "Impossible. One has to cease to exist." He further added "Kissi ek ka wajood mit hi jata hai."
His words hit her harder than she expected. She quickly masked it with sarcasm.
"Wow. Thank you for this unsolicited philosophical wisdom, Mr. Minister."
"Only for you, Princess Ambani."
"When was Krishna born?" she asked.
He laughed. "For such a basic question you're calling the Education Minister himself? Classic Iva."
"Papa," she warned, mock-scowling.
"No seriously, this is peak Ambani behavior. But fine. At midnight. Happy?"
"Very. Thank you, Minister Papa."
"And Now tell me, why the sudden curiosity ?", he asked curiously.
"Nothing. Just... someone being oversmart about things."
He chuckled. "Always dominating, Iva."
"I'm called Iva for a reason," she said with a smirk.
They both laughed, and after a few more words, said goodbye-her heart lighter than it had been all day.
---
Ivikaa ignored Maya the entire day, her silence heavier than any argument could have been. Maya felt the weight of her guilt deepen with every passing hour. But Ivikaa? She was focused on something else entirely.
She couldn't wait for night to fall.
When the clock struck 11:30 PM, she carefully gathered a few fabrics, a thread, needle, and tucked a weathered old book into her bag. She wasn't sure what she was creating-only that she needed to do it with her own hands.
Crossing the silent hallways of the Agnivanshi Palace, she made her way to the West Wing, where she spotted Martin locking the back door.
"Martin," she called out smoothly, "Black coffee, Please."
It was the same request she had used yesterday, just to get under his skin. Martin paused, gave her a measured look, scanning her as though re-evaluating her entirely.
She had solved the riddle.
"Sure, ma'am," he said with quiet deference and walked toward the third door-the one that led to the garden.
Ivikaa smirked and followed.
The private garden wasn't vast, but it was elegant. A swing swayed gently, trees whispered secrets, and the fresh scent of yesterday's rain lingered in the cool air. Her nostrils flared as nature's perfume filled her lungs. She sat on an old iron bench, placed her bag and fabrics on the side table, and began working, her fingers stitching in rhythm with her breath.
And then, at the stroke of midnight, he came.
Adwait entered quietly and found her completely immersed in her design. He said nothing, simply walked over and sat on the swing.
She sensed his presence before she saw him. When she looked up, he was watching her, wearing that quiet, unreadable smile.
"I like how you communicate-like a caveman. Especially for someone who failed 10th grade, you do quite well," she said in her effortless French-accented English.
She expected irritation. Offense. But instead, he laughed-a deep, genuine laugh that caught her off guard.
Wasn't that a taunt?
Confused, she pulled the Bhagavad Gita from her bag and held it up.
"This," she said softly, "I found in my mother's old things."
Adwait rose from the swing, walked over to the bench, and lowered himself beside her. Slipping off his sandals, he lifted the book and gently touched it to his forehead in reverence before opening it.
Inside the cover, handwritten words glowed in the moonlight:
To: Veer Agnivanshi
With love - Veer ki Vani
22nd Sept 1991
-SRA
He traced the letters with a tender finger, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. He sat beside her on the bench and whispered, "SRA."
"Shravani Rajveer Agnivanshi," Ivikaa filled in quietly.
His smile widened.
She waited for more. When he said nothing, she cleared her throat. "I just want to know if Veer Agnivanshi had any connection with my mom, Christina. Shravani wasn't just a story from Meera Agnivanshi's lips. She was real. His wife."
"Veer Agnivanshi rarely stayed with the family. He was a ghost to them," Adwait said.
"Just like you?" Ivikaa asked.
He took it as a compliment, flashing that maddeningly beautiful dimpled smile again.
"Even more than me. The Agnivanshis knew almost nothing of his life. But what does it matter? He's gone. And why give this book to me?"
She looked at him meaningfully. "Because it belongs to the right Veer Agnivanshi."
Adwait didn't argue. He nodded slightly.
Just then, Martin returned with a tray. Ivikaa's eyes lit up with mischief.
"Thanks for the tea, Martin," she said devilishly, grabbing the cup meant for him.
Then she did something that left both men stunned-she casually swung her legs across Adwait's lap like it was routine.
Martin froze.
Adwait blinked in surprise.
Martin looked at Adwait for instructions. Adwait gave him a silent glance, and he left without a word.
"Hey, don't look shocked. You made me drink tea yesterday. So tonight, you get the coffee," she smirked, handing him the cup.
He took it without a fuss.
"And this?" he asked, pointing at her legs resting across him.
She took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes in mock peace.
"Of course you wouldn't understand-you're a caveman. So let me explain. In my world-scratch that-in the world where you don't exist, this is casual. You know... hugs, kisses and-" she leaned in close, whispering, "sex."
His expression froze in shock, and Ivikaa burst out laughing, tossing her head back.
"You're such a caveman. But we're friends, right?" she asked playfully, her voice suddenly rich and commanding.
He didn't answer.
"Don't overthink, Mr. 17th Century. Drink your coffee."
He shook his head and resumed sipping.
Then he asked, "Are you trying to find your mother's past?"
"No. I already know how she died-giving birth to my youngest brother. But... someone called you Veer Agnivanshi the other day. Then I found this book. It felt like a sign."
She felt his hand accidentally brush her toes. She curled them instinctively. He pulled his hand away and placed it on the armrest.
"Let bygones be bygones," he said gently.
Ivikaa sighed. Maybe there was nothing more to find. Maybe the past was meant to stay buried. Dead ends. Like the people they were searching for.
She stood up and walked to the swing where he had been earlier.
"What are you looking at, Caveman? Come here and push the swing. If not, I'll tell everyone about you and Raha's secret meetings," she threatened, grinning.
His eyes widened in helpless horror, and she laughed-her first genuine laugh in days.
He walked over and started pushing the swing.
"Don't be grumpy. You fulfill every one of Raha's demands, don't you?" she teased.
"She's my little sister," he said, his tone a bit defensive.
"And I'm your not-so-little... friend." She leaned back to look at his face. He looked down at her-and then, abruptly, stopped the swing.
Time stilled.
She leaned back further, resting her head against his chest. It was becoming a habit now-to lean on him. To close her eyes when she did.
It felt like home.
"Chez moi," she whispered in French, as a cold breeze brushed her face, softened by the warmth of his presence.
[at my home]
"Friends don't do this," he murmured.
"Adwait, don't," she replied firmly.
"It's forbidden," he said simply. "You're here because it's forbidden."
She didn't respond. But when he gently tried to move her, she placed her hands on his and stopped him.
"Just a second" she whispered.
And so, he stayed still.
Forbidden, huh? Maybe someone should tell destiny Ivikaa doesn't take orders.
✧ ✦ ✧
Author's Note:
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