“Yaar, Ayesha, I swear this is the best episode yet!” I squealed, clinging to my pillow as I lay on the bed, watching yet another K-drama.

“Mahira, this is like the tenth time you've said that this week. How can every episode be the best?” Ayesha’s laughter crackled through the phone.

“You don’t understand! It’s all about the moment—when the hero looks into her eyes, their souls connect, and… uff, pure magic!” I sighed dramatically, the way only a girl raised on an overdose of romantic movies and Korean dramas could.

Ayesha groaned on the other end. “Magic, huh? If only you spent half this time thinking about real boys instead of these K-drama heroes, maybe you'd have a boyfriend by now.”

I laughed, throwing my pillow in the air. “Who needs a real one when I’ve got an imaginary one who's perfect, listens to me, and never disappoints?”

“Yeah, until your Prince Charming walks into your life, don’t come crying to me when your imaginary boyfriend dumps you.” Ayesha chuckled, and I could hear her flipping through her textbook. Leave it to her to be multi-tasking while I daydreamed.

I wish I also meet my Ryu Sun-jae 😍

(How many of you have seen lovely runner?)

I smiled, rolling over on my bed. My room was my little haven, filled with posters of my favorite shows, fairy lights draped across the walls, and a stack of books half-read on my desk. It wasn't glamorous, but it was mine.

“By the way,” Ayesha added, “how’s college treating you? Made any new friends, or are you still talking to your imaginary boyfriend?”

I sighed. “It’s fine. I mean, classes are boring, but the cafeteria food isn’t too bad. And don’t even get me started on the professors. They give off serious ‘villain uncle from a 90s movie’ vibes.”

We both laughed at that. But deep down, I did feel a little pang of loneliness. It wasn’t that I didn’t have friends. I had Ayesha, after all, but I still longed for that epic, dramatic love story. The kind where the guy would fight the whole world just to be with me.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a text from mom.

“Papa’s not home yet. He’s usually back by now. Should I be worried?” I wondered out loud.

“Arre, maybe he’s stuck in traffic. It’s Mumbai, Mahira, not some slow village. Relax, and stop thinking so much.”

But my gut told me something wasn’t right. I texted him anyway: Papa, all okay?

No reply.

***

Hours later, I was pacing the living room when the doorbell rang. My mom, who had been fidgeting with the remote for the past thirty minutes, jumped up and ran to open the door.

"Shekhar, where were you?" she exclaimed.

But as soon as she opened the door, her eyes widened, and mine followed. My father was standing there, his clothes slightly crumpled, but beside him… was a man, covered in bandages, leaning heavily on my father’s shoulder.

“What happened? Who is this?” my mother asked, rushing to help him.

My father helped the man inside and gently placed him on the sofa. “Savitri, I found him on the road… lying there, unconscious, covered in blood. I couldn’t leave him. Took him to the hospital, but they said he has no memory. Nothing but his name. Ved.”

Ved.

It was the first time I looked at him properly. Despite the bandages, there was something about him. He wasn’t just any random man. There was a sadness in his eyes, a mystery that made my heart skip a beat. He looked lost. And for some reason, I wanted to help him find his way again.

“He lost his memory?” I asked softly, sitting beside my father. “He doesn’t remember anything?”

“Nothing,” my father confirmed. “The doctors said it could take time… if he remembers at all.”

The man named Ved stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. For a moment, our eyes met, and I froze.

“Mahira, get some water,” my mother ordered, snapping me out of my trance.

I rushed to the kitchen, my mind racing. Who was he? Where had he come from? Why did it feel like fate had thrown him into our lives? And more importantly, why did my heart skip a beat just by looking at him?

As I handed Ved the glass of water, his fingers brushed mine for the briefest second. It felt like electricity coursed through me, and I nearly dropped the glass.

“Th-thank you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but gentle.

“You’re welcome,” I stammered, suddenly feeling like one of the shy heroines from my K-dramas.

“Ved, this is my daughter, Mahira,” my father introduced.

I smiled nervously, unsure of what to say. “Hi.”

He simply nodded, clearly exhausted. My mom was already fussing over him, making sure he was comfortable, while my dad was trying to figure out the next step.

“We can’t just leave him at the hospital, Savitri. He has nowhere to go,” my father said.

My mother hesitated but finally nodded. “Okay, Shekhar. But only until he recovers. We don’t know anything about him.”

I couldn’t explain why, but I felt an overwhelming urge to protect this man, this stranger who had suddenly become part of our lives.

Ved. The name echoed in my mind like a secret promise.

As I went to bed that night, my thoughts were a whirlwind. Was this the universe’s way of giving me my own K-drama moment? Maybe this mysterious man was the beginning of my love story. My heart fluttered at the thought, and for the first time in a long while, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Little did I know, this was only the beginning.

***

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of breakfast. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed Ved sitting at the dining table, looking slightly more alert than the night before.

He was wearing my father’s clothes which were a bit oversized for him as my father was very healthy. But no matter what this man wears he will look handsome in anything.

“Good morning,” I chirped, feeling way too cheerful for someone who had no idea what was happening.

He looked up at me, his eyes soft but distant. “Morning.”

“Feeling better?” I asked, sitting across from him.

“A bit,” he replied, clearly trying to figure out where he fit in this new reality.

And just like that, I decided to make him smile. “You know, you look like one of those mysterious heroes from the shows I watch. You know the ones who have a tragic past but end up falling in love with the bubbly, innocent girl?”

Stupid girl !!! This isn’t the first thing you are supposed to tell to a stranger 🤦‍♀️

His lips quirked up slightly, and I mentally patted myself on the back for getting that reaction.

“Is that so?” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Yup! And guess what? I’m the bubbly, innocent girl.” I grinned.

And for the first time since we’d met, he actually smiled. It was small, barely there, but it was enough to make my heart do somersaults.

---

The rest of the chapters will be published on my wattpad account:

InkWeaver_Dreams