The first time Aisha saw him, she didn’t even know his name.
It was her first day at Delhi University — a crowd of new faces, a thousand voices, and one heartbeat louder than the rest.
He was standing near the notice board, sleeves rolled up, hair falling perfectly on his forehead — the kind of guy every girl noticed, but he seemed lost in his own world.
When their eyes met for the first time, it wasn’t fireworks — it was silence.
The kind of silence that says everything.
---
Aisha had just moved from Lucknow. She was shy, bookish, and a little afraid of new beginnings.
But life had its own plans.
Her best friend, Naina, dragged her to the college café on the very first week.
And there he was again — sitting by the window, sketching something in a notebook.
Naina whispered, “That’s Kabir Mehra — Fine Arts. Second year. He paints like a dream.”
Aisha smiled faintly, but her heart had already skipped a beat.
When Kabir’s gaze lifted and met hers, time paused for a second.
He smiled, a soft, effortless smile that reached his eyes.
“First year?” he asked.
Aisha nodded. “Literature.”
That’s how it began — a small conversation, a few exchanged smiles, and something beautiful that neither could explain.
---
Days turned into weeks, and their bond grew quietly — through coffee breaks, shared poems, and unspoken glances.
Kabir started sketching her without telling her.
He said she looked like “the calm before a storm.”
Aisha would often read him poetry — her favorite being lines by Rumi:
> “Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”
He’d listen, smile, and say,
> “Maybe we met long before this life.”
---
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t confessed in words.
It just happened — somewhere between laughter and silence.
One evening, when the monsoon arrived, they were sitting under the old peepal tree near the campus gate.
Rain poured, wind danced, and she said softly,
> “Kabir, do you believe in forever?”
He looked at her and whispered,
> “Only when I look at you.”
That night, Aisha wrote in her diary:
> “I think I found home — and it has his smile.”
---
But life isn’t always kind to love stories.
Kabir got a scholarship to study art in Paris — a dream he’d waited for his whole life.
The night before he left, they met one last time.
No promises. No tears. Just a quiet, aching silence.
He touched her face and said,
> “If we’re meant to meet again, the universe will bring us back.”
Aisha smiled, but her eyes were full.
He walked away — and with him went every color from her world.
---
Months turned into years.
Aisha finished her studies, became a writer, and moved on — or at least tried to.
But every time it rained, she thought of him.
Every cup of coffee, every empty page reminded her of Kabir’s eyes.
She wrote novels, poetry, everything — but every story somehow ended with him.
---
Five years later, Aisha’s first book got published — “The Color of Silence.”
It was about two lovers who never got their forever.
She was invited to a literature festival in Mumbai.
When she reached the art gallery where her event was held, she froze.
On the wall — under soft golden light — hung a painting.
It was her face.
The same peepal tree. The same rain.
And the artist’s name at the bottom — Kabir Mehra.
She turned — and there he was.
Older, gentler, still smiling the same way.
No words were needed.
He stepped closer, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and said softly,
> “Told you… the universe never forgets.”
Tears fell, but they were the kind that felt like coming home.
---
Aisha’s next book was called “Until We Meet Again.”
And on the dedication page, it simply said —
> “For Kabir. My art. My beginning. My forever.”
- The End
Because some loves don’t fade —
They just wait for the right moment to return.
