Chapter Twenty-Two: Like Sunshine in a Dream
787 Words
Rehaan’s POV
Sunday.
It had never held any significance in his life. It was just another day — sometimes a breather between work chaos, sometimes a lazy slide into Monday blues. But this Sunday? It was something else entirely.
He hadn't felt this… alive in a long time.
His fingers hovered over his phone all morning, eyes searching the screen for one name — Pakhi.
Every ping made his heart jolt. Every reply from her made the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. She had that effect on him — this subtle, powerful ability to reach into the quiet parts of his soul and stir them awake.
When she called him high maintenance in that teasing tone, he laughed — really laughed — like he hadn’t in months.
But it was her silence after his “jaan” that had made his chest tighten for a second.
He knew he was crossing invisible lines.
He knew she was trying hard to stay composed, to stay professional, as she had said before. But when she didn’t push him away — when she replied with that soft "Then don’t disappear. I’m here. For now." — something shifted.
He could feel her guard cracking.
And God, he was falling.
Evening came like a slow song, and as the sky darkened outside his apartment in Bangalore, Rehaan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at her message:
Give me 15 mins. Need to un-zombie myself.
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Take all the time you want, shona,” he whispered to himself, then stood up and actually — uncharacteristically — fixed his room.
He folded the jacket on the chair, moved the empty coffee mug to the kitchen, dimmed the harsh lights and turned on the warm lamp by his bed.
He wanted this moment to be… right.
When the call finally rang, his stomach did something ridiculous — a flip he hadn't felt since he was sixteen and crushing on his tuition teacher.
And then…
She appeared.
Pakhi, in a simple pastel kurta, her wavy hair pulled back in a messy half-bun, looking sleepy yet so unbelievably beautiful that it knocked the air out of his lungs.
“Hi, shona,” he said, voice low and fond.
She laughed, a little flustered. “Hi, Rehaan.”
He could’ve stared at her forever.
That night was magic.
They shared stories, embarrassed themselves, laughed so hard at one point that he had to turn the camera away to hide his red face.
When she smiled at something he said, his heart clenched in the softest way.
She wasn’t just beautiful. She was sunlight. And he hadn’t realized how much he needed warmth until she brought it into his world.
At one point, he leaned back against his pillows, still watching her through the screen as she talked animatedly about how she once messed up a recipe and made sweet biryani by accident.
“Do you have any idea what your smile does to me?” he asked out of nowhere.
She froze, cheeks flushing.
And then smiled again — shy and knowing.
They said goodnight reluctantly. He wanted to keep talking, to keep watching her until his eyes refused to stay open. But she had yawned, and he knew she needed sleep.
Before they ended the call, he whispered, “Sleep tight, jaan.”
She replied with a soft, “Goodnight, Rehaan.”
He fell asleep clutching his phone.
And dreamt of her.
They were sitting by a lake, some quiet hidden place he had never seen before. She was barefoot, laughing, flicking water at him. The air was thick with the scent of mogra. She reached out, tucked a flower behind his ear, and whispered something — but he couldn’t remember what.
He woke up to sunlight pouring into his room and a smile stretching across his face before his eyes even opened.
There was a weightlessness in his chest. As though something heavy had quietly melted away in the night.
It wasn’t just about the call. It was the way he had felt in that dream — content, seen, wanted.
And he knew it now.
He didn’t just like Pakhi. He wasn’t just intrigued. This wasn’t fleeting.
He wanted her.
Not just on his screen.
Not just in late-night chats.
He wanted to reach across cities, traditions, rules… and build something real with her.
Even if the world wouldn't make it easy.
Even if time wasn’t on their side.
For now, he opened his messages and typed slowly:
Good morning, meri jaan. You in my dream was my favorite version of reality. Just saying.
And waited.
Smiling.
- Writer
