The days following the wedding were a haze for Harish. He moved through them mechanically, carrying out his routine with a heavy heart. The vibrant colors and joyous music of the wedding had faded into a dull monotone. Every corner of his home seemed to echo with her laughter, every quiet moment filled with the phantom of her voice. He found himself scrolling through the wedding photos sent by friends, lingering on the ones that captured her radiant smile. In group photos, his gaze always sought her out. The realization gnawed at him—he had let her slip away, and he had done nothing to stop it. "Why didn't I just tell her?" Harish muttered to himself one evening, pacing his room. His younger brother, Bidyut, who shared the room, looked up from his book. "You're talking to yourself again, bhaiya. What's bothering you?" he asked, setting the book aside. Harish hesitated. He had always been close to Bidyut, who was more like a confidant than a sibling. With a sigh, he sat down beside him. "I met someone at the wedding. Shukr. She was...different." Bidyut raised an eyebrow. "Different how?" "She was kind, intelligent, funny...everything. I felt this connection, you know? But I didn't say anything, and now she's gone." Bidyut studied his brother for a moment before replying. "If she's as special as you say, why not find a way to contact her?" Harish shook his head. "I don't even know where to start. She's back in her hometown, and I didn't ask for her number or even her full address. It feels impossible." But the seed had been planted. Over the next few days, Harish couldn't shake the thought of reaching out. He began asking mutual friends if they had Shukr's contact details, hoping for a stroke of luck. Every dead end only deepened his frustration. One a ernoon, while cleaning out his desk, Harish stumbled upon the wedding invitation. It listed the bride's family's contact information. His heart raced as he dialed the number, but when the line connected, he froze. The words wouldn't come. "Hello? Who's this?" a voice asked on the other end. Harish quickly hung up, his face burning with embarrassment. He couldn't bring himself to explain his intentions, not even to a stranger. He tossed the phone onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. "What's wrong with me?" Meanwhile, Shukr wasn't far from Harish's thoughts. She too had returned home, her mind replaying moments from the wedding. She remembered his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the quiet moments they had shared. She found herself writing more frequently, her journal filling with musings that mirrored her feelings. Yet, like Harish, she hesitated to reach out, unsure of his feelings or how he might respond. The parallel longing created an invisible thread between them, a thread that neither dared to pull. Harish threw himself into work, hoping the distraction would dull the ache, but it didn't. Every romantic movie and every love song on the radio seemed to mock his predicament. One evening, as Harish sat by his window watching the twilight sky, Bidyut entered the room with a knowing look. He held two cups of chai and set one down beside Harish. "You know, avoiding the topic won't make it go away," Bidyut said, taking a sip. Harish sighed. "It's not that simple. What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I ruin the memory of what we shared?" "Or what if she's waiting for you to make a move?" Bidyut countered. "You won't know until you try." The conversation stirred something in Harish. That night, he picked up his phone and searched for Shukr's name on social media. His hands trembled as he typed, his mind racing with doubts. A er several attempts, he cra ed a simple message: "Hi Shukr, it's Harish. I hope you're doing well. I've been meaning to reach out since the wedding. It was great meeting you." He stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before hitting send. The next morning, Harish woke to find a notification on his phone. His heart leaped as he saw her name. Shukr had replied. "Hi, Harish! I'm so glad to hear from you. I've been thinking about the wedding and all the fun we had. How have you been?" Her response was warm and inviting, and for the first time in weeks, Harish felt a spark of hope. They began exchanging messages, their conversations picking up where they had le off at the wedding. They spoke of their days, their dreams, and their favorite memories. Harish found himself opening up more with each passing day, and Shukr's understanding of nature made it easy. But as their connection deepened, so did Harish's fear. The thought of confessing his feelings loomed over him like a shadow. He worried about jeopardizing their newfound bond. On the other side, Shukr also grappled with her own uncertainties. She cherished their conversations but wondered if Harish saw her as more than a friend. Her journal pages were filled with unsent letters and unspoken words, each one a reflection of her growing affection. Their story was unfolding slowly, like the delicate unraveling of intertwined hearts, but neither could predict the twists and turns that lay ahead. The lingering echo of their emotions set the stage for what was to come, a journey that would test their courage, their patience, and the depth of their bond.