Parallel Hearts : Two Worlds, One Love

The city buzzed with life as Saharsh strolled through its lively streets, Rakshita trailing behind, eyes sparkling with curiosity and joy. He took the responsibility of her guide seriously — or rather, playfully — stopping at every stall that served something worthy of the princess behind him.

Tamatar chaat. Aloo tikki. Chole. Samosas. Everything was too delicious to ignore.

At every stop, Saharsh had to pull her hand back with a laugh.

"Save room for lunch, madam! You can't just overdose on chaat!"

Rakshita pouted dramatically and took one last bite every time.

But lunch… lunch made Saharsh blush.

Not because he hadn't had lunch with someone before — he had — but because this felt different. Special, and he didn't know why. Or maybe he did and just didn't want to admit it yet.

He rode them to his favorite dhaba — a place tucked a little outside the city. Humble and warm. Familiar.

The owner recognized him instantly, though Saharsh's more polished outfit today made him do a double-take. Business, of course, required special attention for regular customers. But today… today was extra special.

Because standing just behind Saharsh was Rakshita.

The moment the owner saw her, his eyes gleamed with teasing mischief. Without asking, he offered them the private dining room — something Saharsh knew was usually reserved for close groups or loyal guests.

And oh, he knew why the offer came today. The owner's eyes practically screamed, Go on. Have fun, young man.

Saharsh didn't argue. He just quietly accepted.

But what met them inside caught him completely off guard.

The dhaba wasn't anything like a five-star restaurant — and that was exactly what made it charming. Built almost entirely from bamboo, it exuded a cozy, rustic soul. The seating wasn't traditional chairs, but meshed charpai beds woven with jute ropes — like something straight out of a quiet village afternoon. The tables were handcrafted from bamboo, their tops intricately carved with floral patterns and covered by glass, reflecting a warm village-meets-modernity aesthetic. Each table had a small table fan, lazily spinning, cooling the scented air around.

This place was peaceful. Honest. Real.

The private room, however, was another level of surprise.

Fresh flowers were hung between the bamboo gaps in the walls — roses, lilies, marigolds, even a few bright hibiscus. A half-burnt candle flickered gently on the table, its scent mingling with the soft afternoon breeze. The entire setup felt overwhelmingly romantic.

"Who puts hibiscus on a dining table?" Saharsh muttered under his breath, chuckling nervously.

From behind, the owner appeared. "Ah! That was for the last couple. They wanted something… memorable. I hadn't taken it down yet. But then, I saw you two and thought — why waste the effort?"

He winked. "Or should I replace the hibiscus with red roses? Symbol of love, you know… fits a couple like you."

Both Saharsh and Rakshita instantly turned red and chorused, "We're not a couple!"

Saharsh sighed in relief that he had at least told Rakshita earlier he knew the owner — otherwise, he might have walked out today with a handprint on his cheek.

The owner just chuckled. "Okay, okay. Still, don't waste this setup. In fact, I think I'll make this a regular thing. Romance brings business, after all."

They sat beside each other, hearts pounding under the candlelit awkwardness.

When the owner's teenage son — who helped out on weekends — came to take their order, Saharsh confidently said,

"The usual — Kadhai Paneer, butter naan, vinegar onions, raita, and two lassis."

The boy raised a brow. "Bhaiya… Bhabhi is with you today. Try something new at least."

Before Saharsh could deny the title, Rakshita blushed and said softly, "No… I want to try his usual today."

The boy smirked. Saharsh froze.

What just happened?

He tried to distract himself with food. Focus on food, food, food.

But then, Rakshita casually reached up and tied her open hair into a bun using the band on her wrist — just to keep it from falling into the curry.

And that was it.

Her long earrings were no longer hidden by her hair. Her neckline subtly showed. Her face was now fully open to light — and suddenly everything about her looked more vivid. Saharsh forgot where he was.

He just... stared.

The food arrived. The boy left. But Saharsh stayed frozen.

"Hey! Mr. Daydreamer," Rakshita nudged him. "Where'd you go?"

He blinked, flustered.

"Pay attention to me," she teased. "Not just the food."

"I was paying attention to—" he paused, then quickly corrected himself, "Nothing. Focus on food, not me."

They ate quietly, savoring each bite. For some reason, today's food tasted richer. More alive. They both knew why — but said nothing.

After lunch, Saharsh paid the bill. The owner gave him a discount, and the entire staff watched them leave with big smiles and teasing glances.

Saharsh muttered under his breath, "Never bringing her here again…"

To avoid further embarrassment, he made Rakshita sit in a nearby park while he fetched dessert from his favorite sweet shop. Five gulab jamuns each — though he wanted more, he restrained himself. Not too much sugar.

They sat together on a bench, eating the warm dessert under the soft shade of a peepal tree. It was nearly 4 p.m.

As they walked through the park afterward, Rakshita blurted, "Next time, you come to my world. I'll show you around."

"No way," Saharsh shook his head. "How will you handle the pain?"

"I'll bear it."

"I won't let you."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't—" he stopped.

Rakshita stepped in front of him. "What? Because you think I'm weak? Because I can't handle it like you?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm not just a tourist in this mess, Saharsh. I'm a part of it too. Maybe I don't show it, but it hurts me too — to see you carry everything alone."

A second tear rolled down.

Saharsh couldn't bear it. "Fine… next Sunday, your world. Okay? Just… don't die before I get there."

Idiot, he thought again. Why joke now?

But Rakshita wiped her tears and smiled — that bright, carefree smile he loved.

"Done."

To cheer her up, he took her to a trampoline park, where Rakshita gleefully pushed him down more times than he could count. And Saharsh? He smiled through every fall.

Later that night, Deepak invited them over for a simple dinner — soya chunks and roti. But the moment they sat down, Deepak grinned.

"So… what are you two gonna do tonight? Share a bed or what?"

Saharsh's brain stopped.

Right. Rakshita had to sleep in his bed tonight — to go back to her world.

He leapt to Deepak's bed. "I'm staying here. This one's mine."

Rakshita, still flustered from Deepak's tease, grabbed Saharsh by the shirt collar and dragged him up.

"Drop me to your room. Now."

"Okay okay! But loosen your grip, it's gonna tear!"

Deepak yelled, "It'll be better if it does!"

Saharsh kicked a chappal at him on his way out.

He walked Rakshita back to his room — just two buildings away. As he turned to leave, he hesitated.

"Alright… Sunday. Your world."

Rakshita smiled, gave a small nod, then shut the door.

She slipped into his bed, red-faced and giggling to herself about everything that happened today. Her heart was still racing.

Meanwhile, as Saharsh walked away, he shook his head and muttered,

"I'm never going to understand her…"

And then smiled.

"…and maybe I don't want to."