Episode 1: The Girl with the Storm in Her Eyes
Kolkata's relentless monsoon rain painted the city in hues of grey and green. On the streets, rickshaw wheels splashed muddy water on worn pavements, while the air hung thick with petrichor. But inside the grand Mukherjee mansion nestled in Ballygunge, a different kind of storm was brewing.
Sixteen-year-old Sarvi Mukherjee stood by the ornate French windows, her small fingers clutching the velvet curtain, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass. She was a paradox—petite and graceful, yet fierce and defiant. Her dusky skin glowed under the chandelier's golden light, and her dark eyes, wide and deep, carried the weight of unspoken dreams. A dream that was too ambitious for a girl like her—one that dared to reach the operating tables of AIIMS.
"Sarvi, the guests are here! Why are you still not ready?" came her mother's voice from the hallway.
Dr. Anjali Mukherjee, a revered pediatrician in Kolkata's most esteemed hospital, was everything Sarvi aspired to be. Intelligent. Poised. Respected. But she also carried the voice of expectations.
"Coming, Ma!" Sarvi replied, adjusting her lavender salwar kameez. She had deliberately chosen the simplest outfit she owned, yet she looked ethereal. Her mother's pearls hugged her collarbone delicately.
The occasion was a grand soirée to honor their longtime family friends—the Rathores. Sarvi's father, Raghav Mukherjee, a self-made textile tycoon, had spared no expense. Golden drapes flowed from the ceiling, Bengali classical music echoed softly, and the air was scented with jasmine and politics.
As Sarvi descended the marble staircase, her eyes flickered across the sea of faces until they found him.
Aarav Rathore.
He stood tall, lean, and immaculately dressed in a tailored navy kurta. His sharp jawline and thick lashes gave him a cinematic charm, but it was the quiet intensity in his gaze that unsettled Sarvi. He wasn't looking around like others. He was observing. And when their eyes met, it was as though the world had blurred for a heartbeat.
Their parents introduced them with polite smiles and formalities.
"Sarvi, this is Aarav Rathore, Justice Vikram Rathore's son. He's just returned from the UK—finished his internship in orthopaedics," Anjali said with pride laced in caution.
Sarvi nodded, a bit flushed. "And you're… back for good?"
Aarav smiled slightly, his voice calm. "For a while. Needed to breathe Indian air again. And attend this famous Mukherjee party, of course."
Sarvi laughed softly, looking down. Her heart raced.
From across the room, Meera Das—her childhood friend and confidante—elbowed her playfully. "That's the Rathore guy? Damn, girl. Now I see why you've been checking your reflection every ten minutes."
"Shut up," Sarvi muttered, but couldn't suppress her smile.
Aarav moved away to greet other guests. But he looked back. Just once. Long enough to send shivers down Sarvi's spine.
Meanwhile, Riya Sen, Sarvi's so-called best friend, stood near the dessert counter, her almond eyes narrowed as she watched the interaction. Her lips curled into a practiced smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"So that's the doctor prince?" she whispered to Arjun Mehta, a wealthy socialite who hovered near her like a moth to flame.
"He's just alright. Bit too quiet," Arjun shrugged.
"Quiet ones hide storms," Riya replied, sipping her mocktail. "And that girl... always pretending she's not interested. But I know her type."
Later that night, as the guests began to leave, Sarvi retreated to the garden, escaping the noise.
"Not a fan of parties either?" a familiar voice said.
She turned. Aarav stood beside her, his umbrella shielding them both from the light drizzle.
"I like watching them. From the side."
"Like a scientist studying specimens," he quipped.
Sarvi laughed. "Exactly."
There was a silence—comfortable, strange, magnetic.
"I've heard about you," Aarav said. "Anjali Auntie talks a lot when she's proud."
Sarvi arched a brow. "Hopefully all good things."
He smiled faintly. "Only good. And ambitious. Medicine, right?"
"Yes. Just passed class eleven. NEET prep is full swing."
Aarav nodded, impressed. "That's intense. Took me three tries to get through some of those entrance exams."
She tilted her head, mock-serious. "Thanks for the anxiety boost."
They both laughed.
Just then, thunder rumbled, and Sarvi flinched slightly. Aarav instinctively reached out, steadying her with a touch on her arm.
"Sorry," she said.
"No need," he replied, gaze locked with hers. "It's just the sky."
But it wasn't just the sky that trembled that night.
As Aarav walked away, his thoughts lingered.
"She's different."
Back inside, Meera raised her brows as Sarvi returned.
"You look like someone just dropped a love letter in your lap."
"He just... he's interesting."
Riya approached them, her voice sweet but tone sharp. "Don't get distracted, Sarvi. The NEET isn't a joke."
Sarvi smiled faintly, eyes shining. "Neither is a connection."
And that night, as rain continued to pour on the city of joy, two hearts began writing a story—one that neither of them had planned for.
Dramatic Closing Line:
She had seen him once—and suddenly, her dreams wore his name.
Episode 2: Lavender Lehengas and First Sparks
The days following the Mukherjee soirée passed in a dreamlike haze for Sarvi. Her textbooks lay open, but her thoughts danced around a pair of eyes—calm yet turbulent—that had found hers in the storm of strangers. She tried to distract herself with biology notes and mock tests, but Aarav Rathore's voice echoed in her mind far louder than mitochondria ever could.
It had only been one evening, one brief conversation. Yet something had shifted. And now, the buzz of preparations for her elder sister Nandini's wedding added a feverish rhythm to the already chaotic household.
"Sarvi! The lehenga fittings are today, and you're still in pajamas?" Anjali exclaimed, walking into her daughter's room.
Sarvi bolted up. "Sorry, Ma. I'll change. Give me five minutes."
"Five means five, not twenty. You know the Rathores will be at the wedding, right?" Anjali added with a sly smile.
Sarvi turned crimson. "I'm aware."
In the next room, Nandini teased. "She's more aware of Aarav than anything else lately."
Sarvi threw a pillow in her sister's direction, which only made Nandini laugh harder.
Later that evening, Sarvi stood in front of the mirror, swaying slightly as the tailor pinned her lavender lehenga. The fabric shimmered under the boutique lights, pearls tracing delicate patterns along the hem. Her reflection looked older—more composed, almost bridal.
"You'll steal the spotlight, beti," the boutique owner grinned.
"I'm not the bride," Sarvi replied.
"But someone's heart might disagree."
Her phone buzzed. A message. Her breath caught when she saw the name.
Aarav Rathore:Hey Sarvi, would you like to talk sometime?
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Sarvi:Sure.
Three dots appeared and disappeared. Then reappeared. Finally:
Aarav:Today evening? Maybe video call?
She typed and erased a dozen replies before settling on: Okay.
Later that night, the call connected. Aarav's face appeared, framed by bookshelves and a soft lamp glow.
"Hi," he said, a little awkward.
"Hi," she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"So... how's NEET prep going?"
"Exhausting," she admitted. "I feel like I dream in MCQs."
Aarav chuckled. "I remember that phase. It gets better. Kind of."
They talked for an hour. Then another. About ambitions, failures, and fears. Aarav spoke about the pressure of being Justice Rathore's son, about nights in hospitals where sleep was a myth, and how he'd sometimes watch people walk by and wonder what made their hearts tick.
"I wanted to study hearts," he said. "But then I met a girl whose eyes carried storms."
Sarvi looked away, heart thudding.
"You talk like you're writing poetry," she whispered.
"Maybe because that's how I feel right now."
Her breath caught, but before she could reply, her mother knocked on the door.
"Dinner's ready, Sarvi."
"Coming!" she called.
She turned back to the screen. "I have to go."
"I'll call again?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. Please."
After ending the call, Sarvi sat silently for a moment. Outside, the city buzzed with wedding chaos. But inside her heart, something quieter bloomed—a feeling she hadn't expected to grow so fast.
Across town, in the Rathore mansion, Aarav set his phone down with a smile.
"She's different," he told his sister Priya, who'd been eavesdropping.
Priya grinned. "You like her."
He didn't deny it.
Meanwhile, in another corner of Kolkata, Riya Sen threw her phone onto the bed after stalking Sarvi's Instagram story. The smile on her face during the call, the sparkle in her eyes—it wasn't hard to guess who was behind it.
"She thinks she's special," Riya muttered. "But let's see how long that lasts."
Dramatic Closing Line:
She had seen him once—and now, her heart dressed in lavender dreams.
[Episode 3: Midnight Calls, Hidden Hearts
The days turned into weeks, and video calls became routine. Sarvi would wait until her parents were asleep, her textbooks piled beside her, her phone tucked discreetly beneath a notebook. As the clock struck midnight, a soft buzz would signal his call. Aarav.
Their midnight conversations were long and filled with comfort. There was something safe about the darkness, the silence of a sleeping house, the way they could talk about anything and everything without fear.
"You ever feel like you're trying to be two people at once?" Sarvi asked one night.
"All the time," Aarav replied. "My dad wants me to be perfect. My mom wants me to be careful. I just want to be... enough."
Sarvi smiled. "You are enough."
"And you? You're doing all this to prove something?"
"I want to become a doctor," she said. "Not because of my parents. Because I want to matter. Even if I'm small, even if I'm quiet—I want to matter."
Aarav's voice softened. "You already do."
Her cheeks flushed, even though he couldn't see her clearly in the dark.
But even in this sanctuary of digital affection, shadows loomed.
In the Rathore home, Dev Malhotra—the family's close friend and Aarav's childhood confidant—watched their dynamic from afar. He had noticed how Aarav smiled more, how he ducked away from parties to take private calls, how he looked at Sarvi's photos with something like wonder.
And Dev hated it.
"She's young," he told Priya casually over breakfast. "Barely sixteen. What does Aarav even see in her?"
Priya arched a brow. "Maybe honesty? Maybe ambition? Maybe because she's not like the rest of us?"
Dev smirked but said nothing. Inside, a slow-burning resentment took root.
Back in Sarvi's world, her childhood friend Meera was catching on quickly.
"You light up when he calls," Meera teased. "If NEET prep doesn't work out, you could write romance novels."
Sarvi rolled her eyes but smiled. "I don't know what this is. It's too early to call it anything."
"You've caught feelings," Meera said.
"I've caught confusion," Sarvi muttered.
The next night, the call came earlier.
"Sarvi," Aarav's voice was quieter than usual. "I need to tell you something."
Sarvi sat up straighter. "What happened?"
"I'm leaving tomorrow. I have to go back to the U.S. Residency stuff. Paperwork. I don't know when I'll return."
Her heart clenched. "Oh."
"I didn't want to go without telling you. Without saying... I like you. More than I should. And I know this might be wrong or rushed, but I needed you to know."
Sarvi swallowed hard. "I... don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," Aarav said. "I'll wait. Just... tell me when you're ready."
The screen dimmed after he hung up. Sarvi sat still in the quiet, the air heavy with feelings unspoken.
Dramatic Closing Line:
They didn't realize they had just stepped into a story that would rewrite their fates.
Episode 4: The Best Friend's Secret Storm
The morning after Aarav's confession, Sarvi awoke with a tangled heart. Confession. Departure. A silent promise. Her thoughts chased themselves in circles as she tried to study but ended up highlighting the same sentence ten times.
Meera noticed instantly.
"You okay?"
"He told me he likes me," Sarvi said.
"And?"
"I didn't say it back. I froze."
Meera grinned. "Because you like him too."
"Maybe," Sarvi whispered.
But not everyone was cheering for Sarvi and Aarav.
Riya had overheard enough to suspect something was brewing. And the storm that stirred inside her was not of concern, but of envy.
"Chance or distraction?" she asked sweetly one afternoon, leaning against Sarvi's desk.
Sarvi blinked. "What?"
"You and Aarav. Is he serious? Or just bored?"
Meera stood up. "Riya, don't."
Riya's smile tightened. "I'm just saying. Boys like him—they don't settle for girls like us."
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Sarvi replied, voice firm.
Meanwhile, back in the Rathore house, Dev was growing bolder. He had started following Sarvi's social media quietly. He knew her routines. He even saw the lavender lehenga photo from her sister's engagement.
"She's trying to look older," he muttered.
"She's growing up," Priya said simply.
Dev's eyes darkened. "She won't be enough for him."
Back at home, Sarvi's parents began to notice changes. Her father, Raghav, asked Anjali over dinner, "You think that boy is serious?"
Anjali sighed. "He might be. But Sarvi has to focus. One heartbreak could break her NEET attempts."
Sarvi overheard them and retreated to her room, eyes stinging.
The only person who seemed genuinely supportive was Meera. "Whatever happens," she said, hugging her, "you're allowed to feel. Don't let anyone take that from you."
That night, a message arrived.
Aarav:Did I make things harder for you?
Sarvi stared at the screen. Then typed:
No. You made them honest.
A beat passed. Then she sent another:
I'll tell you how I feel. When you come back. For the wedding.
Dramatic Closing Line:
She didn't say yes, but her silence whispered everything.
Episode 5: The Wedding and the Lavender Girl
The sangeet ceremony was a fever dream of colors and sounds. The Mukherjee mansion bloomed with floral arches, shimmering drapes, and the rhythmic beats of dhols. Everywhere Sarvi turned, laughter erupted, music played, and people danced in a haze of glitter and joy.
But she stood still—until she saw him.
Aarav had returned.
He stepped into the garden-turned-stage in a navy blue sherwani embroidered with golden vines. Time slowed as his eyes found hers.
Sarvi was a vision. Draped in a lavender lehenga that hugged her petite frame, her mother's pearl set adorning her neck, she seemed like she had stepped out of a painting. Her long hair was curled and pinned with white flowers. Her eyes glistened when they met his.
Their first dance wasn't planned. But the moment the DJ played the retro classic "Sajna Hai Mujhe Sajna Ke Liye," Aarav approached, hand outstretched.
"Dance with me?"
Sarvi hesitated. Then nodded.
They moved in sync—hesitant, slow at first, then flowing like a river rediscovering its path. Guests clapped. Phones recorded. But they only saw each other.
Riya watched from the sidelines, fingers curling around her champagne flute.
"They look perfect together," someone said beside her.
Riya forced a smile. "Let's see how perfect they are when the lights go off."
Later that night, she cornered Aarav near the stairwell.
"You look tired," she purred. "Need a break?"
"I'm good, thanks," he replied, cold.
"You sure? It's not every day you meet someone older. More experienced."
Aarav raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"
"That you and Sarvi are cute... but doomed. She's a girl. You're a man."
"She's everything I admire," he replied, voice steely.
Riya's smile faltered. "We'll see."
Dramatic Closing Line:
"I want us," she said. And the world tilted toward forever.
Episode 6: Betrayal Draped in Red
The morning after the sangeet, Sarvi found her world splintering.
Meera barged into her room, phone in hand. "You need to see this."
A video. Riya and Aarav—Riya leaning too close, whispering. The camera caught nothing more, but the caption read: Something brewing between the two?.
Sarvi's breath caught. Not because she believed it, but because it hurt.
She stormed downstairs, past caterers and decorators, and found Riya near the pool.
"How could you?"
Riya looked up, unbothered. "Relax. It was a joke."
"You humiliated him. And me."
"I just flirted a little. It's not my fault he didn't take the bait."
Sarvi's fists clenched. "You tried to sabotage me. Why?"
Riya's facade cracked. "Because I was always the prettier one. The smarter one. And then you... you became the girl everyone's talking about."
Tears filled Sarvi's eyes. "We were friends."
"I was your competition. You just didn't see it."
Aarav found Sarvi later that day.
"I should've told you she tried something."
"I believe you," Sarvi whispered. "It just hurts."
He held her hand. "I'm not going anywhere."
Dramatic Closing Line:
Sometimes, betrayal doesn't arrive with hate—it comes disguised as love.
Episode 7: The Fallout of Friendship
The wedding moved forward, but Sarvi was changed. Riya's absence from the guest list was noted but not questioned—at least not openly.
Her parents noticed her quietness. Meera filled in the blanks. Aarav stayed close, protective.
Sarvi confronted Riya one last time before the big day.
"I hope it was worth it," she said.
Riya, draped in a fiery red saree, shrugged. "I did what I had to."
"You lost a friend," Sarvi whispered. "And I lost a part of myself."
Dev, who had watched all this from the sidelines, grew more agitated. He confronted Aarav outside the wedding venue.
"You're making a mistake."
Aarav turned. "What are you talking about?"
"She's a kid. She'll ruin you."
Aarav's voice dropped. "She's the best decision I've ever made."
Dramatic Closing Line:
Lust can tempt, but it can't shatter what's built from truth.
Episode 8: Parents, Promises, and a Price
The morning after the wedding, the families gathered for breakfast. But the mood was different.
"We want to talk about this relationship," Raghav Mukherjee said, sipping his tea.
Anjali nodded. "Sarvi must finish medical school first."
Justice Rathore added, "We support your decisions. But timing matters."
Sarvi stayed silent. Aarav reached for her hand beneath the table.
"I'll wait. I'll support her, no matter how long it takes," he said.
Afterwards, Anjali spoke to her daughter alone.
"You've faced so much so young. Are you sure?"
Sarvi looked her mother in the eye. "He's the only thing I've ever been sure about."
Meanwhile, Riya's brother, Kabir Singh, visited the Mukherjees.
"Removing my sister without a word?" he said coolly. "That's a dangerous game."
"She crossed a line," Raghav said. "And she has to face consequences."
Kabir smirked. "You think this is over?"
Anjali stepped forward. "If she comes near Sarvi again, it will be."
Dramatic Closing Line:
Not all wounds bleed—some whisper through silence.
Episode 9: Abroad—Love in Between Chapters
[Full episode text already written above.]
Episode 10: Dev's Growing Obsession
Boston's fall chill swept through the narrow streets, painting trees in amber and gold. Sarvi adjusted to the rhythm of her medical school—labs, late-night study sessions, and weekend coffees with Aarav. Her world was expanding. But so was the darkness lingering in the corners.
Dev hadn't stopped.
Blocked numbers turned into anonymous emails. Unsent letters arrived at her dorm's mailbox. Comments from fake accounts appeared under her photos. It wasn't just persistence. It was obsession.
"I can help," Dev had written in one email. "You don't have to hide your pain. I know you better than he ever will."
Sarvi felt violated, shaken. She didn't tell Aarav everything. Not yet.
But Aarav noticed.
"You're flinching every time your phone buzzes," he said gently one night. "Tell me what's going on."
Sarvi looked down. "Dev won't leave me alone."
That was all it took. Aarav's face hardened.
"He's in India. He can't hurt you here."
"He's not trying to hurt me," she said, voice trembling. "He thinks he loves me."
Aarav pulled her close. "He doesn't know what love is."
But then Dev appeared in Boston.
It happened on a foggy Thursday. Sarvi walked out of her neuroanatomy lecture and froze. Across the street, Dev stood by a lamppost, watching.
She ran back inside, heart pounding.
Later, he texted her: I came all this way for you. Don't be scared.
Aarav reported him to campus security.
But Dev had connections. He was subtle. He couldn't be arrested for looking. For showing up in public spaces.
"You need to stay with me," Aarav said, hands shaking. "Until he leaves."
One night, Dev cornered Sarvi near the university library.
"I gave up everything to come here. Why are you running from me?"
"Because this is not love, Dev," she snapped. "It's control. It's delusion."
His face twisted. "He doesn't deserve you."
"You don't get to decide that."
Before he could speak again, Aarav arrived.
"Step away," he growled.
Dev smirked. "Protecting her like a knight in a romance novel. But even knights bleed."
Security broke up the confrontation. Dev was formally warned. His visa flagged.
Dramatic Closing Line:
Dev wasn't falling in love. He was falling into control.
Episode 11: Return to Roots, Return to Risks
A year passed. Sarvi flourished in school, and Aarav, now completing his surgical residency, proposed a return to Kolkata for Nandini's official wedding reception.
It was meant to be a celebration.
They arrived just after Diwali, the city twinkling with fairy lights and fireworks.
But ghosts don't knock. They wait. And strike.
Riya reappeared.
She stood at the edge of the reception hall, draped in a dark maroon gown, her hair braided in a traditional fishtail. Kabir Singh stood beside her like a silent bodyguard.
Sarvi froze. "Why is she here?"
"She wasn't invited," Aarav said.
Kabir approached. "She has the right to be at her best friend's wedding."
"We're not friends anymore," Sarvi said coldly.
Riya smiled. "Still dramatic, I see."
"You tried to ruin me."
"I tried to show you the truth," Riya replied. "Love is messy. Men like him don't stick around."
"But he did," Sarvi said. "He stayed."
That night, Sarvi confronted her fears in the garden where she and Aarav had first spoken.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "That this story won't end well."
Aarav took her hand. "It won't end. Because we're still writing it."
They kissed beneath a blooming night jasmine tree.
But as they walked back inside, Dev was waiting.
He had returned to Kolkata.
"I warned you," he said to Aarav. "She was never yours."
Aarav stepped forward. "You need help."
"No," Dev replied, eyes blazing. "She needs rescuing."
Security was called again. This time, Dev didn't resist. He smiled as he left.
"I'll always be watching."
Dramatic Closing Line:
Ghosts don't knock. They wait. And strike.
Episode 12: Lavender Vows, Crimson Shadows
On a misty December morning, Sarvi stood before her mirror. The lavender bridal lehenga shimmered like moonlight. Pearls adorned her neck once more. Her hair was woven in an elegant braid, orchids nestled within the strands.
Aarav waited at the mandap, dressed in ivory and gold. His eyes didn't wander. They never had.
As Sarvi walked down the aisle, every moment of her journey played in her mind—her ambitions, Riya's betrayal, Dev's obsession, and Aarav's unwavering loyalty.
The rituals began. Sanskrit chants filled the air. Families watched. The fire roared.
"I, Sarvi Mukherjee," she said, voice steady, "choose Aarav Rathore. For today. For tomorrow. For always."
Aarav repeated his vows with eyes only for her.
They circled the sacred fire, tied together with destiny.
As the ceremony concluded, a soft commotion began at the entrance.
Riya stood there again. Dressed in crimson, like a bleeding memory.
Anjali stepped between her and the newlyweds. "You're not welcome."
Riya said nothing. Only watched. Then walked away. Silent. Alone.
Dev was never seen again.
As Sarvi and Aarav took their final steps as husband and wife, the sun peeked from behind the clouds.
Scars don't fade—but some turn into stories of survival.
Dramatic Closing Line:
And this was theirs.