???
Twenty minutes later, I hear the familiar honk of his bike outside my gate. Grabbing my phone, I run downstairs and send my parents a quick message to let them know that I’m with Samarth and will be home before dinner. I know they won’t fuss about it.
My parents adore him as much as I do. Dad often calls him ‘mera beta,’ and Mom can’t stop praising him whenever he visits. And Samarth loves them just as much, seeing them as his own, especially since his parents live in London and he stays alone in his house, just a few blocks away from mine.
Closing the door behind me, I spot Samarth leaning against his bike, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. At twenty, with his five-foot-ten frame, chocolate complexion, sharp jawline, and dark, mischievous, eyes, he has girls drooling over him wherever he goes. Yet he’s never dated anyone, and I’ve never questioned it. Just like him, I’ve never found anyone who truly caught my interest. Maybe we’re both waiting for the right person. Or maybe we’re just too focused on our careers to get tangled in relationship drama.
“Took you long enough,” he taunts, a smug smile pulling at his lips.
“You said twenty minutes,” I fire back.
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s been twenty-two. You’re late.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re just a punctual freak.”
“I take that as a compliment.” He laughs as he swings onto his bike. “Now hop on. We’ve got celebrating to do.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, climbing on behind him
“You’ll see,” he replies as the engine roars to life, and he speeds down the streets of our neighbourhood.
A few minutes later, he stops at the same spot we always end up at when something big happens. The old lake. Our secret place since high school.
I jump off the bike and stretch my arms out, letting the cool breeze wash over me.
“So, how does it feel to know you’re officially on your way to becoming Meera Sinha, the journalist?” Samarth asks, standing beside me.
“Honestly? It hasn’t fully sunk in yet,” I admit. “But I do know that I’m going to be the best journalist in town.”
He nods. “I don’t doubt that.”
I look at him and see his face softened by that supportive smile I’ve seen a thousand times before. A constant in my life for as long as I can remember.
“You know, you’re not half bad at this encouraging thing.”
“Good thing,” he teases, ruffling my hair, “because you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”
“I know.” I slap his arm. “Just… you know, you’re also a pain in my ass most of the time.”
“And yet you love me.”
“Debatable.”
He chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “You’re still stuck with me.”
And just like that, standing under the bright sky, it feels like this is where my story truly begins.
Chapter 1
Meera
Five years later
“How could you be so stupid?” I snap, pacing Samarth’s living room.
“I… I… I was carried away,” Sonia stammers from the couch, her eyes fixed on the floor, her fingers gripping the edge of her dupatta.
I stop mid-stride and stare at her. Guilt tugs at me for snapping at her. Sonia Mehra, my friend, whom I’m supposed to be there for and not take my anger out on. I inhale slowly and really look at her. Her loose dark waves, usually glossy and perfectly styled, hang limp around her face. Her kajal-lined brown eyes look swollen, and her dusky skin is drained of its usual warmth. Even her already slim frame looks as if it’s shrinking under the weight of everything she’s carrying. I’ve never seen her like this in the four years I’ve known her, ever since I joined The City Chronicle, where she was first my colleague, and then eventually became my friend.
