Shruti sat at her desk, her mind buzzing with thoughts of Siddharth and his letter. She had been pondering how to respond to him, and finally, she had made up her mind. She would write back to him, and see if she could unravel some of the mystery surrounding this mysterious man.
With a sense of determination, Shruti pulled out a sheet of paper from the drawer of her table. She dipped her pen in the inkwell and began to write, her handwriting flowing effortlessly across the page.
"Dear Siddharth," she wrote, "I wanted to take a moment to thank you for your beautiful letter. Your words about my art touched my heart, and I am so grateful to have someone who understands and appreciates my passion."
As she wrote, Shruti felt a sense of excitement and curiosity. She was eager to see if Siddharth would respond, and if she could learn more about this mysterious fan.
"I must say, I am really intrigued by your sense of understanding and appreciation for art," she continued. "It's not often that I meet someone who can see the world in the same way that I do."
When she finished writing, Shruti folded the paper and placed it in an envelope. She sealed the envelope with the crest of the Singh estate, a symbol of her family's legacy and tradition.
Finally, she called for a maid and handed her the envelope. "Please see that this letter is delivered to the Rai estate," she instructed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
As the maid curtsied and took the letter, Shruti felt a sense of excitement and expectation. She wondered what Siddharth's response would be, and if she would finally uncover the mystery surrounding this enigmatic fan.
At the Rai palace, Siddharth was engrossed in his work, pouring over papers and documents in his office. He was so focused that he didn't even look up when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said, his voice distracted.
A servant entered the room, placed a letter on Siddharth's desk, and quickly exited. Siddharth didn't even notice the letter, too caught up in his work. Hours passed, and the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the palace.
Finally, Siddharth stood up, stretching his tired muscles. He had been working non-stop for hours, and he was exhausted. He decided to call it a day and head to his room to get some rest.
As he walked out of his office, he was suddenly bumped into by a small, energetic figure. He looked up, frustrated, and saw his little sister, Roohi, staring up at him with big, apologetic eyes.
Siddharth's expression softened, and he smiled. "Be careful, okay?" he said, ruffling Roohi's hair.
Roohi nodded, and then asked Siddharth if he had a certain book that she needed for her college assignment. Siddharth told her to look in his office library, and Roohi skipped off to search for the book.
As she entered Siddharth's office, Roohi's eyes scanned the shelves, searching for the book. She finally found it and was about to leave when she spotted a letter on Siddharth's desk. Her eyes widened as she picked it up and saw that it was from Shruti.
Roohi's face lit up with excitement as she quickly grabbed the letter and ran to her room. She jumped onto her bed, opened the envelope, and began to read. As she read the letter, her expression changed from excitement to confusion.
Why had Shruti sent this letter to Siddharth? Roohi thought back to the letter she had written to Shruti, a mischievous grin spread across her face as she realized that Shruti must have mistaken her letter for Siddharth's.
Roohi's eyes sparkled with amusement as she pulled out a piece of paper and began to write another letter to Shruti. This time, she wrote as Siddharth, playing along with the charade. She couldn't wait to see how Shruti would respond.
Roohi's letter, written as Siddharth, had reached Shruti, and she had been overjoyed to receive it. For two weeks, the exchange of letters had continued, with Shruti and "Siddharth" sharing their thoughts and feelings with each other. Shruti had felt a deep connection with the person she was corresponding with, and she had been eager to meet him in person.
On the day of the sports festival, Shruti was excited to attend the event, which was organized by a charity organization. She had spent hours getting ready, trying on different outfits and doing her hair and makeup. Finally, she had settled on a white shirt and a sleeveless peach dress over it, which made her look elegant and radiant.
As she arrived at the festival, Shruti's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. She spotted Siddharth in the VIP area, standing tall and handsome in his formal attire. Her heart skipped a beat as she made her way towards him, feeling a sense of nervous excitement.
"Hello," she said, smiling brightly as she approached him.
Siddharth turned to her, looking curious. "Hello," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to place her.
Shruti asked him if he liked sports, trying to make small talk. Siddharth explained that he was there as the chief guest, and Shruti nodded politely. As they chatted, Siddharth's confusion grew. Who was this woman, and why was she talking to him so frankly? He didn't remember meeting her before.
"Umm... excuse me?" Siddharth said, his brow furrowed. "Pardon me for my memory, but do we know each other?"
Shruti's face fell, and she felt a surge of embarrassment and fury. How could he not remember her? They had exchanged so many letters, sharing their thoughts and feelings with each other. She had felt a deep connection with him, and she had been eager to meet him in person.
"Do you really not know me?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
Siddharth shook his head, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, I don't remember meeting you before," he said.
Shruti's anger boiled over. How could he pretend not to know her? Especially after they had exchanged so many letters. She felt humiliated and betrayed.
"Fine then!" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Pardon me for wasting your precious time, Prince Rai."
With that, she turned and stormed off, leaving Siddharth looking bewildered. Shruti's eyes stung with tears as she made her way through the crowd, feeling embarrassed and hurt.
Meanwhile, Siddharth was left standing alone, looking confused. "What a weird woman," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
Shruti finally reached the restroom, where she stood in front of the mirror, fuming. "Not showing interest towards art in public is one thing, but pretending not to know me in front of so many people, especially when we exchanged so many letters... he's ridiculous," she seethed, her eyes blazing with anger.
She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. But she couldn't shake off the feeling of hurt and betrayal. She had thought that she had a connection with Siddharth, but now she realized that she had been mistaken.
At night, at the Rai's palace, Siddharth sat at the dining table with his father and little sister, Roohi. They were engaged in a lively conversation, enjoying each other's company, when Siddharth suddenly mentioned, "I met a weird woman today."
His father's curiosity was piqued, and he asked, "What do you mean by a weird woman?" Siddharth recounted the entire incident that had occurred at the sports festival, leaving out no details. His father listened intently, a mixture of amusement and confusion on his face.
"Indeed a weird woman," his father said, chuckling. Then, his expression turned serious, and he asked, "Do you remember her name?"
Siddharth thought for a moment before responding, "Um... I don't remember." His father nodded, and the conversation moved on to other topics.
After dinner, Siddharth and Roohi decided to sit on the balcony, enjoying the cool evening breeze.
"That was delicious. Cook outdid herself tonight. Especially the pastry." Roohi said.
"You seemed to enjoy it. I believe I saw you sneak a second helping when no one was looking." He replied.
"Did you? I have no idea what you're talking about. Besides, a princess deserves a little extra sweetness."
"And does a Prince not?" He asked.
"You had your share. You were just being more discreet about it. Besides, you always seem to choose the healthier options. So responsible."
"Someone has to be. Father would have my head if we both turned into sugar plums."
"He only cares for you, I bet you will always get a pass."
As they chatted, Siddharth's eyes wandered to the newspaper that lay on the table beside him. Suddenly, a photo caught his attention. It was a picture of the same woman he had met at the sports festival.
"Oh, she's the one I was talking about," Siddharth said, pointing to the photo. Roohi's eyes followed his finger, and as she saw the photo of Shruti, she felt a jolt of surprise and sadness. Her heart filled with regret and guilt, and she looked away, trying to compose herself.
Roohi couldn't believe what she had done. Her letters, written in Siddharth's name, had led to Shruti's embarrassment and hurt. She felt a pang of remorse, realizing that her actions had caused harm to someone innocent. As she sat there, trying to process her emotions, Roohi knew that she had to make things right, but she didn't know where to start.
