The park was filled with laughter , playful teasing and children running here and there.
As the sky turned orange, the noise softened into children reluctant to leave their little world, while parents tried to bribe them with chocolate and promises.
Admist of these choas,there stands a girl on a swing, along with a man.
"Uncle , Mei nahi aaungi ! Yaha bahut acha hai !!!" Said a girl clinging to the rope of the swing as if it is a life line , refusing to let go .
"Arey beta , kal jaldi aate hain ? Aur bahut khel sakte ho !" He said , calmly trying to make her understand.
She shook her head with pout , still clinging to the rope like a koala .
"Aur dekho , apna friends bhi chal gye" pointed at the disappearing backs of children.
Her eyes flickered between him and her friends' disappearing backs .
Reluctantly , she agreed .
Slowly releasing her tight hold over the rope with a flicker of her disappointment in her eyes.
She turned to him .
"Uncle ! Kal jaldi aate hai !! Aur aap mujhe chocolate dilana hai" she said, firmly crossing her arms with a big pout on her face .
"Bilkul !" He agreed,shaking his head at her antics , carrying her over to the car , while listening to her yap .
🎀✨️
Finally , they reached the Agarwal Mansion.
The little girl stepped inside the house excited, still glowing with happiness–unaware of the storm brewing between those familiar walls ,
" mu..."
She froze at the sight of her mother's tear-stained face… and the suitcase clutched in her hand, her brother standing silently beside her.
" mumma , ayaan , kaha ja raha ho !?." She asked innocently , her eyes big filled with confusion
Without turning back, her mother walked away, taking her brother with her—never once sparing the little girl a glance.
Her heart heavy , not understanding, she turned to her father , His eyes were cold, distant… almost relieved as he watched his wife leave.
Yet they softened when they fell upon his daughter.
" papa , mumma aur ayaan kaha gye ? " she asked her father , not understanding anything
"Beta, Mumma and Ayaan won't be coming back," her father said gently, bending down to her level and stroking her hair. "It's okay. I'll take care of you, my princess."
Before , she could process anything ..
Just then, his phone rang.
"Go freshen up," he added distractedly. "If you need help, ask Seema. I have some work."
Her father looked at her one last time before leaving and gave her a gentle smile, as if it would be enough to say everything without words .
When , it isn't .
Her eyes shone with tears , falling freely .
Confusion evident in her big honey brown eyes.
That day, her world shattered.
Her brother—her protector.
Her mother—the one she adored.
Both walked away, leaving her alone in a world far too cruel for her innocent, naïve heart.
[Her father... let's not talk about him]
______
AFTER A FEW YEARS ….
The music filled the empty hall, soft at first, then rising—wrapping itself around her like something familiar, something safe. Her feet moved on their own, remembering what her heart tried so hard to forget.
She danced.
Each turn carried the laughter she once had.
Each step held the ache she never spoke of.
The girl who once waited to be heard now spoke through movement—through the stretch of her arms, the bend of her spine, the controlled grace that masked the chaos inside her.
Her expressions shifted with the rhythm—joy flickering for a second, then fading into something deeper, heavier. Every spin was a release, every leap a silent scream. This was where she felt alive, where no one could leave her behind.
The music slowed.
She stopped at the center of the floor, chest rising, breath uneven. For a moment, the little girl she once was surfaced again—still waiting, still hoping.
Then she straightened her back.
She wasn't that child anymore.
Dance had become her refuge…
and her armor.
She knew she shouldn't be here.
Her father didn't like her dancing. Not because it was wrong—but because it reminded him too much of her mother.
A woman who wasn't dead, yet absent enough to haunt every corner of the house. Dance had been her mother's joy once, and seeing it again reopened wounds he refused to acknowledge.
So she hid it.
She danced when the house was quiet. When the walls were listening but no one else was
Avyanshi Agarwal ...
_____________
The night air burned against his skin as the engine roared beneath him.
Speed was the only thing that silenced his thoughts.
The racetrack lights blurred into streaks of white as he leaned into the curve, heartbeat syncing with the machine beneath him.
To everyone else, he was reckless—fearless to the point of madness.
To him, racing was survival.
The flag dropped.
Cheers erupted around him as he crossed the finish line first, tires screeching as he slowed to a stop. He removed his helmet, sweat clinging to his hair, jaw tight—not in triumph, but in relief.
Because winning was never the goal.
Running was.
Running from expectations.
Just then ..
His phone rang , one look at the screen his jaw tightened
"Papa"
With a sign , he answered the call
" kaha ho, abhi tak ghar nahi aaya" his father asked with a hint of disappointment
" aa raha hu " he said , his voice calm as if he just didn't raced like a maniac
"Kitni baar bolun main?" his father scolded, irritation finally slipping through his controlled tone.
"Do din mein school shuru ho raha hai. Padhai ko lekar zara si bhi seriousness nahi hai tum mein."
He didn't respond immediately.
"Racing, late nights, distractions," his father continued. "Tumhe samajh aa raha hai na ki future kis cheez se banta hai?"
"Haan," he said quietly.
"That 'haan' is not enough," his father replied. "Action chahiye. Responsibility chahiye."
The call ended there—no room for arguments.
Ivaansh Mathur ..
_________________
Different worlds.
Different escapes.
Yet fate had already begun aligning their paths—
the dancer who moved in silence
and the racer who lived in noise.
And when they finally collide…
Nothing would ever be the same.
_______