“Grandmaaaa! I’m back from school!”

Kunal’s voice rang through the house like a burst of sunshine, his shoes half-off and his bag already slipping from his shoulder.

From the kitchen doorway, his mother called out, “Kunal, first wash your hands. And have some apples before you go and disturb your grandma.”

Kunal paused mid-step, turning with a hopeful grin. “Maa… I want fruit cream first. The one Grandma made.”

His mother folded her arms, a smile tugging at her lips even as she raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you want to eat cold fruit cream right after coming back in this heat? Planning to fall sick and blame me later?”

Kunal froze.

Then—retreat.

With the speed of a startled kitten, he dashed toward the garden and slipped behind his grandmother’s chair, clutching the edge of her saree like a shield.

His grandmother had been sitting peacefully, enjoying the quiet rustle of leaves, until her little storm arrived. She adjusted her silver bracelet—a delicate piece with a tiny panda charm that had slipped loose—before resting her hand gently over Kunal’s head, pulling him closer into a soft embrace.

“Arre, leave my grandson alone,” she said warmly, glancing toward his mother. “Let him decide what he wants to eat.”

Then, ever so subtly, she placed a finger on her lips and gave a playful blink—leave this to me.

Kunal peeked out, eyes sparkling with victory.

His mother sighed dramatically. “Geez… fine. You’re saved this time, Kunal. But if you catch a cold, I’m not listening to any complaints.”

“Yaaay! Thank you, Grandma!” Kunal cheered, hugging her tightly.

His grandmother chuckled, patting his head. “But that doesn’t mean you’re right, hmm?” she said gently. “Your mother is right. If you fall sick, how will you eat more fruit cream later? You like it so much, don’t you?”

Kunal hesitated, his excitement softening into thought.

“So,” she continued, smiling, “be a good boy. Eat your apple first. And after an hour… you can have as much fruit cream as you want.”

Kunal’s face lit up again. “Okay, Grandma! But in return…” He clasped his hands dramatically. “Can you tell me a story tonight? Pleeease? My friends keep bragging that their grandmas tell them the best stories.”

A soft warmth filled her eyes as she looked at him. “Of course,” she said.

Kunal bounced in place. “Yay! What kind of story?”

She leaned back slightly, her voice turning soft, almost magical. “It’s a story I’ll tell you every night for a week… about a boy and a girl.”

Kunal’s curiosity deepened instantly.

“The boy,” she continued, “lives with his younger sister. He has very little time… but far too many dreams to chase.”

“And the girl?” Kunal asked eagerly.

A gentle smile curved on her lips. “She’s a princess—in the eyes of her elder brother and sister. They all live together… in a grand mansion.”

Kunal’s eyes widened. “Ohhh… is she pretty?”

His grandmother laughed, the sound light and affectionate. “She is the prettiest… to everyone in this story.”

Later, night settled gently over the house, wrapping it in a calm, familiar warmth.

The walls, which had echoed all evening with Kunal’s laughter and restless footsteps, finally began to quiet—until the sharp ding-dong of the doorbell rang out.

The door opened, and his father stepped in, loosening his tie, the fatigue of the day still clinging to his shoulders.

Before he could even set his shoes aside—

“Papaaa!”

A blur rushed down the stairs.

Kunal.

From the first floor, he came sprinting at full speed and leapt without warning, landing squarely on his father’s back.

“Welcome back, Papa!” he chirped, clinging to him. “Did you bring ice cream?”

His father chuckled, steadying himself before standing upright with Kunal still hanging onto him. “Hmm… let’s see. Guess what I brought today—butterscotch or mango burst?”

Kunal went still, his face scrunching up in deep concentration, as if solving the greatest mystery of his life.

“…Butterscotch!” he declared confidently.

His father grinned. “Right answer.”

From the dining area, his mother watched them with a soft smile before placing dishes on the table. “Alright, you two. Ice cream can wait. First, finish your dinner.”

Kunal hopped down instantly and rushed over. “Ohhh—chhole chawal! Yay!”

—

Dinner passed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional playful scolding.

And true to his promise, the moment it was over, Kunal grabbed his grandmother’s hand and practically dragged her toward his room.

“Story time!”

His grandmother laughed softly as she followed him, settling onto the bed while Kunal tucked himself in, eyes bright with anticipation.

She began, her voice calm and steady—

“This isn’t a story from an old era… it’s a modern one.”

Kunal leaned closer.

“The girl’s name is Gauri. She’s nineteen… and she has never been to school. In fact, she has never even stepped outside the mansion she lives in.”

Kunal blinked in surprise.

“Her entire world exists within those walls,” Grandma continued. “From morning till night, her days are filled with lessons—royal etiquette, languages, dancing, singing, music, writing, even computers… There’s always something to learn, something to perfect.”

“That sounds tiring…” Kunal murmured.

“It is,” she said with a faint smile. “And in the afternoons, there’s a boy—Raghav. He’s sixteen. A butler in the mansion… but more than that, he’s like a younger brother to her. He helps her through the rest of her classes and stays by her side.”

Kunal listened quietly now.

“In the evenings, Gauri gets a small break. That’s when she spends time with her siblings—laughing, cooking, teasing each other… moments where she feels a little more free.”

A brief pause.

“And sometimes,” Grandma added softly, “she sits by her window… watching the world outside. Children playing. Families talking. Life moving on… without her.”

Kunal frowned. “But… if she watches all that… why isn’t she interested in going outside? Isn’t it boring to stay at home all the time?”

His grandmother glanced at him knowingly. “Do you remember your classmate, Rishi?”

Kunal nodded slowly.

“He prefers staying at home too, doesn’t he? Playing games, watching cartoons… That’s all he cares about. Not because the outside world isn’t fun—but because no one really showed him how wonderful it can be.”

Kunal tilted his head, still unsure. “But… Gauri looks outside. If she’s not interested… then why does she even look?”

Grandma smiled gently. “Rishi still comes to school, even if his parents push him. But somewhere deep inside… he hopes someone will talk to him first.”

Kunal’s expression softened.

“They wait,” she continued. “Even when they know they should take the first step. They’re afraid… afraid of change, of things becoming complicated… of getting hurt.”

Kunal lay back, staring at the ceiling, slowly nodding—as if piecing together something much bigger than the story itself.

Grandma resumed.

“One day… as Gauri was sitting by the window, she saw a boy walking past the mansion gates. He was carrying a box of pastries.”

Kunal’s attention snapped back instantly.

“And then,” she said, her voice lowering slightly, “he looked up… straight at her.”

Kunal held his breath.

“And he smiled.”

Kunal sat up a little. “What happened then?”

“She panicked,” Grandma said softly. “Pulled the curtains shut… and hid her face in her knees.”

A small silence lingered.

“Why… did he smile?” she murmured.

Kunal’s eyes widened. “Was it that boy? The one you mentioned earlier?”

Grandma nodded, a hint of mystery in her eyes.

“Yes… it’s him.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice almost a whisper now—

“Now… it’s his turn.”

His grandmother adjusted her shawl slightly, settling deeper into the pillow as her voice softened again—

“Now… the boy.”

Kunal’s eyes sparkled.

“He works at a café,” she began, “not just as an employee—but as its manager. His name is Siddharth. Twenty-one years old… carrying responsibilities far heavier than most people his age.”

Kunal listened quietly now.

“He lives with his younger sister—she’s sixteen. Everything he does… every long hour, every tired step… is for her. He’s planning to admit her into a prestigious school for her higher studies. He wants her to have the life he couldn’t.”

There was a brief pause.

“He was always a bright student,” Grandma continued. “Back in school, he dreamed of becoming a trauma surgeon. A big dream… a noble one.”

Kunal whispered, “What happened?”

“Life happened,” she said gently. “His parents passed away. And suddenly… he didn’t have the luxury to chase dreams anymore. He had someone else’s life to protect.”

Kunal’s grip tightened on the blanket.

“And then,” she added softly, “he discovered… he doesn’t have much time left either.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

But before the weight could settle too deeply, her tone shifted again—

“One evening, after finishing his work, Siddharth was heading home. But the usual road was under construction, so he took a different route.”

Kunal leaned in again.

“That’s when he passed by a grand mansion.”

—

—

“As he walked past,” she continued, “he felt it… that strange feeling of being watched.”

Kunal blinked. “Like someone staring?”

Grandma nodded. “Exactly like that.”

“So he looked up… toward a window.”

Her voice slowed, painting the moment carefully—

“And there she was.”

“A girl… standing quietly. Her hair tied in a slightly messy ponytail, wearing a soft light-blue gown that swayed gently. Her eyes… wide and delicate, like a deer’s. Her lips—neither too small nor too full—tinted naturally pink. Her skin… pale and smooth, almost like milk under the evening light.”

Kunal’s eyes widened.

“Siddharth didn’t know who she was,” Grandma said with a faint smile, “but in that moment, only one thought crossed his mind…”

“She looked like a princess.”

Kunal grinned.

“And so… he smiled at her.”

“Why?” Kunal asked quickly.

Grandma’s eyes softened. “Because somewhere in his heart… he wished his own little sister could look like that one day—like a princess… on her wedding day.”

Kunal went quiet.

“And then,” she said, “he simply walked away.”

Kunal immediately sat up. “So that’s how they first met, right, Grandma?”

Grandma chuckled. “Yes… that was their first meeting.”

A playful glint appeared in her eyes.

“But no one knew… their second meeting would be much more… memorable.”

Kunal’s curiosity shot up again.

—

“In that mansion,” she continued, “Gauri gets two days off every month from her strict routine.”

“Only two?” Kunal frowned.

“Only two,” Grandma confirmed. “And on one such day… she slept like a baby.”

Kunal smiled.

“It was already afternoon when she woke up. Half-asleep… unaware… she got out of bed just as she was—wearing a small top and panties, her hair completely messy.”

Kunal blinked, then leaned closer, already sensing trouble.

“She walked toward the window unconsciously… and pulled the curtains open.”

A pause.

“And there he was again.”

Kunal gasped softly.

“Siddharth… passing by the same path.”

“And just like before… his eyes lifted.”

Grandma covered a small laugh.

“This time… the moment he saw her—his face turned completely red.”

Kunal burst into laughter.

“He immediately looked away!” she added. “Like he had seen something he absolutely wasn’t supposed to.”

“And Gauri?” Kunal asked, barely containing his grin.

Grandma shook her head, smiling. “A second later… she realized her condition.”

Kunal covered his mouth.

“She froze… went completely blank… and then slam!—the curtains were shut.”

Both of them laughed softly.

—

Kunal wiped his eyes. “How lucky… he got to see such a pretty girl like that.”

Grandma gently tapped his forehead. “Not lucky.”

Kunal blinked. “Then?”

“He looked away immediately,” she said warmly. “That’s what matters.”

Kunal thought about it… then nodded slowly.

After a moment, he asked, a little more serious now—

“Grandma… will this story have a happy ending… or a sad one? Because of Siddharth?”

Grandma looked at him quietly, her expression unreadable for a second.

Then she smiled—soft, knowing.

“This is a story,” she said, “about a boy and a girl… who once shared an affectionate bond…”

Her voice grew gentler.

“A bond that connected them… deeply.”

A pause.

“…and then drifted away.”

Kunal’s smile faded just a little.

“So,” she added lightly, brushing his hair back, “no spoilers beyond that.”

The room fell into a soft silence—one filled not with answers…

…but with questions waiting to unfold.