Saturday Night — Saharsh's Room
The clock ticked louder than usual in Saharsh's room. He sat cross-legged on his bed, a page open in his lap, pen in hand. This time, the swap didn't feel exciting. It felt... uncertain.
He chewed the cap of his pen, staring at the blank page.
It had become a strange routine — this interdimensional exchange. Fun, chaotic, kind of magical. But what if it wasn't all jokes and butter paneer?
What if there was more?
He finally wrote, his handwriting slower than usual:
"Do you ever wonder why this is happening to us?"
"What triggered it? A glitch in the universe? A mistake? A connection neither of us understands?"
"What if we get stuck one day — in each other's worlds, forever?"
"Or worse... what if it stops suddenly? No warning. No swap. No goodbye."
"Would we be able to just... forget each other?"
He closed the note gently, placed it near the desk, and whispered to the quiet room:
"Please let her read it."
Saturday Night — Rakshita's Room
Rakshita sat near her window, scribbling in her sketchbook-turned-journal, biting her lip. The city outside glowed in neon purples and oranges. It looked too surreal to be real — yet it was her reality.
She took a fresh page and paused.
She didn't want to joke tonight. She didn't want to tease about cinnamon jars or cleaning rituals. Something inside her buzzed — a fear she hadn't admitted yet.
She wrote:
"Saharsh... What if this swap is more than just a weird coincidence?"
"What if it's a test? Or a trap?"
"What if one day, I don't come back — and I'm stuck in your world?"
"Or you get stuck in mine?"
"Do you think we're meant to find something? Or stop something?"
"Or is the universe just... playing with us?"
She underlined the last question and exhaled.
Then, she placed the note carefully on the table where he always noticed her notes, took one last look at her world, and crawled under the sheets.
Sunday Morning — The Swap
Saharsh in Rakshita's Room
When he opened his eyes, the scent of lavender greeted him like déjà vu. He sat up, calmer this time, and scanned the room.
And there it was — the note. Open, waiting.
He read every line slowly. Her questions mirrored his. The same worries, the same doubts. It made his chest feel tight — and warm at the same time.
He took a breath and wrote under her words:
"If we're meant to stop something, we'll need answers first."
"And if the universe is playing with us... I say we play back."
"But I'm scared too. Scared it'll end without warning. Or never end — and one day we'll forget who we really are."
"But for now... I'm glad it's you on the other side."
Rakshita in Saharsh's Room
She blinked at the grey ceiling and the hum of the fan. Home — but not hers.
She found the note easily, as if her fingers were drawn to it.
She flipped to the newest note and read his questions.
Then his handwriting answering hers.
Her hand trembled slightly as she added below:
"I don't know what this is either."
"But it started with confusion, turned into curiosity, and now... connection?"
"Maybe it's not about why us. Maybe it's about what we do with it."
"If we get stuck... I hope we find a way to stay human, to stay us."
"And if it stops — promise me one thing."
"Don't forget me."
She paused.
Then added, almost too softly to notice:
"Because I don't think I'll forget you."
As the day passed, they didn't explore as much. They didn't cook chaotically or steal wallets.
They read.
They thought.
They wondered — about science, fate, friendship, danger, destiny.
About what it meant to be chosen — by whatever force stitched two worlds together every Sunday.
And for the first time, they weren't just swapping places.
They were beginning to swap fears.
And maybe... pieces of their hearts.
After sulking in thoughts, they both snapped back to reality. Thinking too much wasn't going to help. The swap was strange, uncertain, and maybe even dangerous — but they refused to let fear rule their Sundays.
Saharsh grinned to himself, pushing his worries aside. Time for some fun.
Meanwhile, Rakshita's eyes caught sight of Saharsh's wallet lying casually on his desk. With a mischievous grin, she slipped it into her bag — a small act of rebellion against the heavy thoughts weighing on her.
She stepped out into the vibrant, neon-lit streets, ready to enjoy some good food and clear her mind.
Sunday Afternoon —
Rakshita wandered through bustling food stalls, treating herself to pani puri, vada pav, and a creamy mango lassi. Each bite was a small celebration of freedom in the strange connection between their worlds.
Just then, Deepak appeared, spotting her sitting alone with Saharsh's wallet peeking out of her bag.
He raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Hey, where's Saharsh? And why are you eating alone… with his wallet?"
Rakshita smirked, taking a sip of her lassi.
"Well, since he's not here, I thought I'd borrow a little something to treat myself."
Deepak laughed.
"You sure you're really his girlfriend? Last time I was in his room, you kicked me out like I was the intruder."
Rakshita shot him a playful glare.
"Hey, don't ruin my reputation."
Deepak grinned. Then, mock-serious, he added:
"Just don't break his heart, will you? My poor best friend."
Rakshita laughed, shaking her head and blushing slightly.
"Don't act like my rival now."
Deepak raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright, I'm just looking out for him."
Rakshita nudged him gently.
"Well, if you're his best friend, you better get used to me."
Deepak chuckled.
"Fair enough. But remember — I'm always ready to challenge you."
Rakshita smiled warmly.
"Bring it on."
Sunday Afternoon — Rakshita's Room
Saharsh was tinkering with his latest gadget on Rakshita's desk when the door swung open and Anaya strutted in with a mischievous grin.
"Hello, Mister Boyfriend," she teased, crossing her arms.
Saharsh froze, his screwdriver halfway to his project. His face went flush, and he looked away, trying to play it cool. Boyfriend? That word echoed in his mind.
"W-What boyfriend?" he muttered, sulking behind the cluttered desk.
Anaya smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Oh come on, don't act so innocent. Rakshita told me all about you. So, are you ready to be her favorite?"
Saharsh laughed nervously, then shot back with a sly grin,
"Aren't you supposed to be her favorite? Her best friend and all. What, jealous already?"
Anaya rolled her eyes but smiled. "Jealous? Please. I'm just here to make sure you don't mess this up."
Saharsh grinned, finally relaxing. "Challenge accepted."
After Anaya left with a teasing wink and a playful warning, Saharsh stood there for a moment, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. A small, genuine smile spread across his face as the word "boyfriend" echoed in his mind.
He shook his head lightly, still smiling to himself, then turned back to the cluttered desk. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and began to write:
"Hey, let's do an experiment. We know we swap every Sunday if we sleep on Saturday night. But what if we don't sleep at all? Let's see what happens."
Pausing, he added with a hint of regret:
"I know it means we won't swap this week, and I won't be able to read your notes, but figuring this out feels important. A minor sacrifice."
He smiled softly, hopeful, and finished:
"If we don't swap, let's sleep next week and tell each other what we experienced."
Folding the note neatly, he placed it where Rakshita would definitely see it, his heart beating a little faster with anticipation.