Sidharth woke with a sharp intake of breath, his chest rising and falling as if he had just surfaced from the depths of the ocean. The dream clung to him like mist—vivid, yet slipping away the moment he tried to grasp it fully.
Her face lingered in his mind. The girl from Marine Drive.
She wasn't just a fleeting memory now. She was a presence, something that had embedded itself deep within him, refusing to fade. He could still see her in his mind—the way the dim streetlights illuminated her delicate features, the soft curve of her lips, the way her hair danced with the sea breeze. And then… her eyes.
Those eyes. Deep, endless, and filled with something that made his heart race.
Sidharth ran a hand through his hair, sitting up on his bed. The dream had felt too real. It wasn't just about her beauty—it was the feeling that came with it. Like he knew her from somewhere, from some place his waking mind couldn't recall. He exhaled heavily, trying to shake off the strange sensation. He had barely spoken to her. He didn't even know her name. But she occupied his thoughts as if she had always been there.
The golden rays of the early morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on his room. The faint hum of the city outside reminded him that the world had already begun its day, even though he felt caught between reality and the remnants of his dream.
Pulling himself together, he dragged his feet to the bathroom. Cold water splashed against his face, grounding him. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking in his slightly disheveled hair and the shadows under his eyes. This is ridiculous, he told himself. He needed to focus. He had work to do.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, a familiar scent filled his flat—the comforting aroma of fried spices and freshly brewed chai. It was a scent that made his flat feel like home, something that had been missing since he left his parents' house years ago.
He barely had to call out before a voice responded from the kitchen.
"In the kitchen, baba!"
Sundari Thai had been a constant in his life ever since he had moved to Mumbai. A woman in her late fifties, sharp-tongued but kind-hearted, she had taken it upon herself to make sure he didn't waste away in his loneliness. She had been his mother-figure in this city, scolding him when necessary and feeding him without fail.
She turned to him with a small frown, placing a steaming plate of poha on the dining table. "Didn't sleep well, did you?"
Sidharth sighed as he sat down. "You always know."
"Of course, I know. You look like a ghost," she muttered, pouring him a cup of chai. "Eat before you disappear."
He chuckled despite himself, taking a bite. The familiar taste brought some comfort, but his mind was still tangled in the remnants of his dream. Sundari Thai, ever perceptive, noticed his distant expression.
"The city feels strange these days," she commented. "People won't stop talking about space and stars. The streets are more crowded than usual. Feels like something big is about to happen."
Sidharth paused mid-bite. She was right. The past two days had been unusually chaotic. Traffic was worse, the air felt heavy, and there was an odd energy in the way people spoke. Even the radio stations had started discussing celestial events more frequently.
"You've noticed it too?" he asked.
Sundari Thai nodded. "When the streets change, something is coming."
Sidharth couldn't argue with that. He finished his breakfast quickly, grabbing his bag. "I'm heading to the office."
"Be careful, baba," she warned. "These are strange times."
Her words followed him as he stepped outside, blending with the restless hum of the city.