YOUR SAVIOUR

The waves crashed softly along the shore, a rhythmic lullaby under the dim moonlight. The beachside restaurant, tucked away from the noise of the main city, was mostly empty. The scent of salt, grilled seafood, and the faint aroma of burning citronella drifted in the air. A few flickering lanterns cast warm golden pools of light over the sand, painting the night in subtle strokes of tears—tears he was too tired to release. To anyone watching, he might have looked like a man merely lost in thought. But inside, he was shattering. It was supposed to be just another summer night. Just another moment of solitude. But fate had other plans. Out of the silence, a voice cut through—familiar and painful, like a song you once loved but can no longer bear to hear. "Please... just one more chance." His grip tightened on the glass. He didn’t need to turn. He knew that voice. Knew the curves of every syllable. The same voice that had once whispered promises beneath starry skies. The same voice that had betrayed him. Slowly, he turned his head, his face devoid of expression. She stood there, just a few feet away. A vision from the past wrapped in soft silk and feigned vulnerability. Her posture uncertain, eyes searching his face, as if trying to find some crack in his armor. He let out a bitter chuckle. "Chance? From the first day itself, I kept giving you chances." His voice, though quiet, was laced with steel. "Not this time." She took a hesitant step forward, hands clasped together, her eyes glistening with what might have passed for tears—if he hadn’t seen them before. He knew her patterns. The drama. The deceit. The performance. Her fingers reached out, brushing against his arm—the same gesture that used to send shivers down his spine. Now, it only made him recoil. He closed his eyes for a second, inhaled deeply. When they opened again, there was no trace of the boy who once loved her. Only a man done with the pain. "You chose to cheat. Now I choose to break up. Leave me alone." The words hit her like a slap. She flinched, her composure cracking. But pride is a dangerous thing. Instead of retreating, she regrouped. Her tone changed, becoming soft, seductive. "You don’t mean that," she purred, stepping closer. "You’ve always come back to me. Always." He stood up abruptly, the legs of the chair screeching against the wood. The distance between them widened again. "Stop," he said firmly. "It won’t work." But she wasn’t done. Her fingers reached out again, desperate now. Then came the sound—sharp, shocking—a loud slap that echoed over the soft hum of the ocean and left the air stunned. A girl stood behind the ex-lover, her hand still raised, her face a mask of fiery indignation. She was younger, dressed simply, but her presence was undeniable—like lightning cutting through the clouds. "Back off," she said coldly. "Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?" The ex-lover turned to her, furious and disoriented. "Who the hell are you? What’s your relationship with him?" The man tried to respond, but the newcomer held up a hand and stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Stay away from my man. Or do you want me to insult you even more?" The other woman’s face twisted with rage, but seeing no upper hand left to play, she spat out a string of curses and stormed off into the night. But the fire didn’t leave the stranger. She kept shouting after her, flinging sarcastic jabs with a passion that was both furious and oddly touching. He reached out gently and placed a hand over her mouth. "Okay, okay, that’s enough. You’ll scare the other customers." She blinked at him, still breathing heavily, her face red from rage and adrenaline. After a second, he held out his glass of water to her. "Cool down,"he added, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Their eyes met—really met—for the first time. And just like that, the world hushed. It was a moment of wordless understanding. Not strangers. Not yet friends. But something in between, as if their souls had collided in another life. She took the glass, her fingers brushing his. Then, with a faint chuckle and a shrug, she slid into the chair next to him. There was a beat of silence before she cleared her throat and extended her hand. "Hi. Myself Diksha." He laughed—genuinely, this time. It felt foreign but welcome. He shook her hand. "Myself Aditya. And... thanks for saving me." From that point on, the evening shifted. They talked. About everything and nothing. He learned that she hated olives, loved thunderstorms, and had a talent for imitation. She learned he collected old books, hated loud phone talkers, and once ran away from a goat as a child. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if the earlier storm had never existed. The stars overhead blinked down, quiet witnesses to something new being born. Time slipped through their fingers like sand. At one point, she leaned back, sighing contentedly. "This is the first time I’ve slapped someone for a stranger." He grinned. "And I must say, you’ve got excellent aim." They laughed again, and it echoed over the waves. Then her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and her smile faltered."It’s late. I really need to go." She stood, brushing sand off her dress. As she turned to leave, he shot up, a note of urgency in his voice. "Wait! What if I want to meet you again? Your contact?" She paused, looked back at him with a playful gleam in her eye. "Leave that to destiny. If we’re meant to meet again, we will. And if we do... maybe then I’ll think about giving you my number." And just like that, she disappeared into the night—like a spark vanishing into darkness. He sat back down, dazed but smiling. For the first time in a long while, the sea didn’t feel so heavy. Nor did the silence. Because sometimes, in the most unexpected places, under the strangest circumstances, a new chapter begins.