Heyyy myy little cutusss🩷
So this is the first chp of Rangrez-e-Ishq
I hope you'll love it 😸
word count:- 2k
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In the afternoon, near the city library,
It was a pleasant, sunlit afternoon. Near the city library, the world seemed to move at a slower pace. The golden rays of the sun filtered through the trees, while a cool breeze carried the faint scent of old books and blooming flowers, making the place feel strangely serene.
Akshara stepped out with two books in her hand. She was wearing a blue dress, and her loose ponytail swayed gently behind her, with two strands of hair falling softly around her face. The warm afternoon light brushed against her skin as she walked, looking completely lost in her own little world. Just then, her phone rang. It was her cousin.
“Hellooo, kaisi haiii?” Akshara answered cheerfully, adjusting the books in her hand.
“Main badhiya, tu bata. Mazaa aa raha hai Mumbai mein?” her cousin asked.
“Haan, matlab thik hi hai. Abh tak zyada dost bane nahi hain na,” Akshara replied honestly. “Bas abhi tak sab kuch naya-naya lag raha hai.”
“Or kya kar rahi hai? Books le rahi rehgi ya padh rahi rehgi?” her cousin teased, already knowing her habits.
“Haan, books lene hi aayi thi,” Akshara said proudly. “Aur waise bhi, books se better company aur kiski hoti hai?”
“Or bata?” her cousin asked.
"Broooo, I remember a thingggg—” Akshara began, but before she could continue, she bumped into a guy. The books slipped from her hand and fell to the ground with a soft thud.
“Sorry,” Akshara said quickly, bending down.
“No, no, my bad. I was looking at my phone and walking, so sorry about that,” the guy replied.
“No problem,” Akshara said, though she still hadn’t looked at him properly.
Both of them bent down at the same time to pick up the books, but Akshara gathered hers quickly and stood up again, already drifting back into her call.
“Broooo, maine kal ek book padhi — Echo of Your Heart by writer Aksh. Itni acchi thi! I never liked the poetry genre that much, but I read his book on Amazon Kindle, and it was too good, bhaii. It’s my comfort book now,” Akshara said excitedly, her voice full of admiration.
The guy who had bumped into her stood still for a moment, listening to every single word. Because it was none other than Rudraksh.
“Excuse me,” Rudraksh said softly, but Akshara had already started walking and didn’t hear him.
He looked at her, a small blush creeping onto his face. Someone actually liked the book he had written — and not just liked it, but loved it enough to call it her comfort book. That thought alone was enough to make his heart feel oddly warm.
If she has read the book, then she must obviously follow me on Instagram, he murmured to himself, pulling out his phone to check.
But after scrolling through the recent followers, he frowned slightly. "Kal toh 5-6 logon ne follow kiya tha mujhe. Kaise pata chale yeh kaun hai? Aur profile picture bhi nahi hai..."
Still, the fact that someone loved his writing made him feel quietly happy.
"Koi nahi," Rudraksh thought with a soft smile, still unable to shake off the warmth blooming in his chest. "Shakal toh yaad hai. Kabhi wapas mili, toh thank you bol dunga."
The thought of someone genuinely loving his words, connecting with his writing so deeply, left him feeling strangely light, almost as if his effort had finally reached the right heart. With that quiet satisfaction lingering on his face, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and started walking toward the house, unaware that this small moment would stay with him longer than he expected.
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At the Malhotra residence,
Krishav was sitting alone in his room, sketching quietly. A cold breeze slipped in through the window, brushing against the curtains, while sunlight fell directly onto his sketchbook, making the page glow softly under its warmth. The room was silent except for the faint sound of his pencil moving across the paper, as he stayed lost in his own world.
Just then, Akshara walked into the room without knocking. Krishav looked up almost immediately and quickly closed his sketchbook.
“Akshu, knock karke aaya kar. Kitni baar bola hai?” he said, frowning lightly.
Akshara crossed her arms and gave him an offended look. “Arre yaar, bhai, aapke room mein kyun knock karke aaun? Haan, kaunsi badi meetings chal rahi hain aapki?”
Krishav sighed and shook his head. “Accha beta, khud ke time pe yaad rakhna, na? Fir mujhe toh bohot sunati hai.”
Akshara tilted her head dramatically. “Main ladki hoon na, bhaiya.”
“Haan haan, pata hai,” Krishav replied. “Ab bata, kyun aayi hai? Kya hua?”
Akshara’s face lit up instantly. “Arre bhai, aapko pata hai na mam ne mujhe school ke group mein add kiya tha? Wahan se ek ladki ka message aaya. Kal woh mujhe school ki chizon mein help karegi. And the best part? Hum same class mein hain! Kitna maza aayega. School gayi bhi nahi aur pehle hi ek dost mil gayi.”
Krishav leaned back slightly. “Sahi hai. Fir toh mujhe bhi coaching mein mere class ke do ladke mil gaye.”
“Haan, bataya tha aapne,” Akshara said.
“Ab hogaya na? Ab jaa apne room mein, mujhe sketching karne de,” Krishav muttered, looking back at his sketchbook.
“Kya yaar bhai,” Akshara said, sounding annoyed. “Jabse hum Varanasi se yahan aaye hain, tabse aap apni is book mein ghuse rehte ho.”
“Haan toh tujhe kya dikkat ho rahi hai?” he asked, not even looking up.
“Dikkat nahi, doubt ho raha hai,” Akshara said suspiciously. “Kahin koi galat kaam toh nahi kar rahe aap?”
Krishav gave her a flat look. “Jaa re jaa. Cricket aur sketching ke alawa mujhe kisi faltu cheez mein interest bhi nahi hai.”
“Arre, isse yaad aaya,” Akshara said suddenly, her tone turning playful again. “Jo meri new friend bani hai na, Akriti, usko dance mein interest hai.”
“Haan toh main kya karun?” Krishav asked, scrolling through his phone.
“Kya yaar bhaiya,” Akshara teased, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “Aapki na toh koi girlfriend hai, na hi kisi ladki mein interest. Kahi aap—”
“Oye nalayak,” Krishav cut her off at once. “Kuch bhi mat bol, warna patak dunga.”
Akshara lifted her chin proudly. “Jao re, haath laga ke dikhao. Papa ko bula lungi.”
“Jaa na, papa ki chamchi,” Krishav shot back.
“Or aap mummy ke katore,” Akshara retorted quickly.
“Terii toh—” Krishav started, but before he could catch her, Akshara had already run out of the room, laughing.
A few seconds later, her laughter echoed faintly from the hallway as she sent a string of laughing emojis on WhatsApp, clearly very pleased with herself.
A soft smile almost tugged at Krishav’s lips, but he quickly looked back down at his sketchbook, shaking his head at her endless drama. Then, with a quiet sigh, he picked up his pencil again and returned to the lines waiting under his hand.
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Meanwhile, at the Arora residence, Akriti was sitting near the pooja ghar, her hands joined together as she prayed to Kanha Ji. Her lips moved softly as she whispered the mantra under her breath, pausing in between to make small wishes of her own. There was a quiet innocence in the way she sat there, completely lost in her prayer, as if she was speaking directly to him from the depths of her heart.
Then she started talking to Kanha Ji as if he were sitting right there, patiently listening to every word.
“Kanha Ji, aapko toh pata hai kal mera school ka first day hai, yaar. Sambhal lena aap. Aapko toh pata hai school wale kaise hote hain — har baar dimag kharab kar dete hain. Aur woh taunt maarne wali har teacher... kisi din toh main unhe suna hi dungi. Sorry, but not sorry. Unke behavior se mujhe itna gussa aata hai. Kripa karna, haan, mere andar patience bani rahe unko sehne ka, warna har PTM mein bas unki complain hi hogi mere baare mein.”
She kept talking continuously to Kanha Ji, as if he was patiently listening to everything she had to say.
Just then, a soft ball hit the back of her head.
“Ahh! Kaun hai yeh batameez?” she exclaimed, turning around.But it was none other than her brother, Rudraksh.
“Kutte, kaam kar na apna. Pareshan kiya hai mujhe,” Akriti said.
“Sharam kar. Bhagwan ke saamne baithi hai aur gaali de rahi hai,” Rudraksh replied.
“Haan toh layak ho aap uske bade bhaiya,” Akriti said in a sarcastic yet sweet tone.
“Jaake soja, aur Bhagwan ko bhi sone de. Unka bhi dimag kha rahi hai raat mein. Poora din teri pakar-pakar sunte hain, raat ko toh baksh de,” Rudraksh teased.
“Jaa rahe ho ya papa ko bulau?” Akriti threatened.
“Haan haan, jaa raha hoon. Sadu kahin ki,” Rudraksh teased before walking away.
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The next morning, at the Arora residence,
Niharika stood near her mirror getting ready for her first day at the office. She brushed her wet hair slowly, while the soft morning light touched her face and gave the room a quiet golden hue. After finishing her hair, she moved closer to the window, lost in her thoughts for a moment. Time had truly flown, and now the responsibilities she had once only imagined were finally resting on her shoulders.
Just then, Kiran, her mother, walked into the room and smiled at her.
“Aree wahh, Niku. Tu toh jaldi ready ho gayi aaj,” she said.
“Haan mummy, socha ready ho jaati hun. Warna papa boss mujhe chhodenge nahi,” Niharika replied dramatically.
Kiran chuckled. “Papa boss? Tu aur tere yeh atrangi naam.”
“Hehe, I know. Achhe hain na,” Niharika said proudly.
“Accha, neeche aa ja. Breakfast ready hai,” Kiran said.
“Haan, aati hun. Waise Aru aur Rudra ka first day school ka hai, ready ho gaye woh dono?” Niharika asked.
“Haan, Rudra toh hogaya ready. Meera (mother of Akriti and Rudraksh) gayi hai Aru ko uthane,” Kiran replied.
“Accha, yeh sab chhodo. Choti maa se kehna na aaj lunch mein mere favorite rajma chawal bheje,” Niharika said.
“Haan haan, uski tayari kar rakhi hai. Tu aa ja neeche, aur tere papa ne kaha hai ki unhone bataya tha na — unka PA, Aditya Malhotra, tujhe guide karega. Yaad hai na?” Kiran asked.
“Maa, usko PA mat bolo. Jaane kya-kya karta hai. Papa ne bataya tha ki company ke liye strategies bhi suggest karta hai. All-rounder banda lagta hai,” Niharika replied.
“Haan toh beta, papa usko decent salary bhi dete hain,” Kiran said with a smile.
“Haan, woh toh pata hai,” Niharika replied.
“Haan toh tu aaja breakfast ke liye. Main jaldi mein hoon, mujhe bohot kaam hai,” Kiran said before leaving the room.
Once she was alone, Niharika frowned slightly, thinking about Aditya Malhotra. She had heard her father praise him several times, and somehow the name felt familiar too, as if she had heard it somewhere before. Curious, she picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts, but there was no one saved under that name. Then she opened Instagram and searched for the account. A profile appeared, followed by a few of her classmates. She looked at the profile picture and immediately froze.
“No, no, yeh toh nahi ho sakta,” she murmured to herself. “Kanha Ji, please, yeh insaan nahi hona chahiye. Koi aur Aditya Malhotra chal jayega, lekin yeh nahi. Aur waise bhi, yeh kyu hi hoga? Main faltu ka stress le rahi hoon. Aur waise bhi isko meri company toh koi angle se nhi mili hogi, so chill Niharika chill."
With that, Niharika shook off the thought, telling herself she was overthinking for no reason. She placed her phone aside, straightened herself, and left her room to head for breakfast.
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