Ominivars : Romence of the Light.

Somewhere far in the infinite universe, in the Arya solar system of the Ashwini galaxy, a bright star shone brilliantly, its radiant rays illuminating the fifth planet—Aditya. This planet, bathed in golden sunlight, was a vibrant world teeming with life and mysteries. In the heart of Aditya, within the country of Akhand, lay a small, serene village where the humble abode of Sahria Nivas stood quietly, greeting the soft, warm light of dawn.

Inside Sahria Nivas, the morning began to unfold with a sense of peace and routine. The modest kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of ghee as it sizzled on a golden griddle. A beautiful 35-year-old woman named Surabhi was lovingly preparing potato parathas, the golden-brown discs cooking to perfection under her attentive care. Her hands moved with practiced grace, though the faint lines of exhaustion around her eyes hinted at the early hours she had kept. The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a gentle light on her face, highlighting the love and care she poured into her every task.

As Surabhi flipped a paratha, she glanced toward the hall, her voice carrying the warmth of a mother's love and the firmness of her early morning routine:

Surabhi (with a tender but firm tone): "Govind... Govind! Go wake your brother."

In the hall, 18-year-old Govind, a quiet and thoughtful young man, paused mid-sip from his water glass. The soft clinking of dishes and the gentle rustling of leaves outside created a peaceful morning symphony. He had just about finished his breakfast, savoring the last few bites. Govind had a special bond with his younger brother, Prince—a mix of playful teasing and deep affection that only siblings could understand.

Govind (to himself, smiling softly): "Here we go again... Time to wake him up."

He stood up, his movements unhurried, as if savoring the calm before the inevitable storm of waking his brother. Slowly, he made his way up the creaking wooden stairs, each step echoing through the otherwise silent house. As he reached the top, he paused outside Prince's room, listening for any sign of life. The silence inside told him all he needed to know. Gently, he pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room.

The sight before him was a familiar one. The room was a chaotic mess, with clothes strewn across the floor and the faint glow of a video game still running on the computer screen. The only sound was the soft hum of the game, its volume turned down low.

Govind (internally, with a mix of frustration and affection): "He must've been up all night playing games again."

Lying sprawled on the bed, tangled in the sheets, was his younger brother, Prince, deeply asleep and completely oblivious to the world around him. For a moment, Govind watched him, his expression softening as he took in the sight of his brother so peacefully at rest. But then, a mischievous grin spread across his face. The perfect opportunity for a little payback had presented itself.

Without hesitation, Govind climbed onto the bed, careful not to make too much noise. He positioned himself just right and, with a sudden movement, delivered a sharp kick to Prince's backside.

Govind (laughing, shouting playfully): "Wake up, you sleepyhead!"

The reaction was immediate and dramatic. With a startled yelp, Prince tumbled off the bed, landing with a loud thud on the wooden floor. The impact reverberated through the room, and for a brief moment, everything was still. Then, a groan of pain escaped Prince's lips as he clutched his back, trying to process what had just happened.

Prince (yelling in pain): "Ouch... Ouch! That hurt, brother!"

Govind couldn't help but grin, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the success of his prank. He stood over his brother, enjoying the moment, before finally relenting:

Govind (teasingly, with a mischievous smile): "Better hurry up. Mom's calling."

With that, Govind turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Prince, still lying on the floor, glared after him, seething with frustration. But he knew better than to retaliate—it would only give Govind more ammunition for his teasing.

Prince (narrating to himself in frustration): "Hi, I'm Prince. And the guy who just kicked me off the bed? That's my older brother, Govind. This is his daily routine—kicking me out of bed like it's some tradition."

He let out a deep sigh, his anger simmering just below the surface, and muttered under his breath:

Prince (angrily): "Man, I hate that f****r... Always messing with me!"

Before he could fully vent his frustration, Govind's voice echoed up from downstairs, this time tinged with playful impatience:

Govind (playfully, with a hint of mockery): "Hey, you coming down or what?"

Realizing he had no choice but to comply, Prince groaned as he hauled himself off the floor. He stumbled into the bathroom, rushing through his morning routine with the urgency of someone who knew they were running late. Within 15 minutes, he was bounding down the stairs, his hair still damp and his shirt half-tucked.

Outside, the world of Aditya was waking up to a new day. The village surrounding Sahria Nivas was nestled in a lush valley, where rolling green fields stretched as far as the eye could see. The morning mist clung to the earth, slowly dissipating as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering ancient secrets, while birds chirped melodiously, adding to the peaceful ambiance. The sky above was painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the first light of dawn heralding the start of another day.

In the hall, Prince descended the stairs with a mix of weariness and annoyance etched on his face. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and he longed to crawl back into bed. But the sight of Govind waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a smirk on his face, quickly dashed any hopes of a quiet morning.

Govind (mocking, with a playful grin): "Well, well, look who finally graces us with his presence! Mom, I'm heading out. And hey, don't be late today, you fool."

Govind's tone was light, but there was an underlying affection in his words—a brotherly bond that ran deep, despite the teasing. Prince simply glared at him, knowing that any retort would only fuel Govind's amusement. Instead, he turned his attention to the table, where the delicious aroma of fresh parathas beckoned him.

From the kitchen, Surabhi's voice carried a note of concern, her words laced with the love only a mother could express:

Mom (lovingly, with a touch of worry): "Take care, son. Be safe."

As she spoke, Surabhi glanced at Govind, her eyes filled with the unspoken fears and hopes that every mother carries for her children. Govind flashed her a brief smile, his heart warmed by her concern, before he stepped out the door and into the world.

Prince, now alone in the hall, watched his brother leave with a simmering glare. But his anger quickly faded as the scent of parathas drew him in. Surabhi emerged from the kitchen, her face glowing with maternal love as she set a plate of hot, steaming parathas in front of him.

Mom (sweetly, with a tender smile): "I'll get your glass of milk."

Prince returned her smile, the tension easing from his shoulders as he took a bite of the parathas. The familiar taste brought a sense of comfort, grounding him in the warmth of home. Outside, the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds created a serene backdrop to the morning meal.

A few minutes later, Surabhi returned with a glass of milk, her voice soft but insistent as she reminded him:

Mom (affectionately, with a hint of urgency): "Hurry up, it's already 9:00."

The reminder jolted Prince from his daze. He quickly downed the milk, then rushed upstairs to grab his schoolbag. Within moments, he was back downstairs, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he made a beeline for the door. But just as he was about to step outside, his mother's voice called out one last time, filled with a familiar worry:

Mom (with concern, almost a plea): "Be careful on the way, son."

Prince paused, turning to give her a quick nod before hurrying out the door. The weight of her concern hung in the air, a silent reminder of the love that bound them together.

Out in the world, the village of Aditya was just beginning to stir with life. The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden beams that kissed the earth with warmth. The streets of the village, lined with old, rustic houses and lush greenery, were alive with the sights and sounds of the day unfolding. Women in vibrant sarees carried baskets of fresh flowers, their laughter mingling with the distant ringing of temple bells. Vendors arranged their colorful wares, from fragrant spices to bright textiles, creating a tapestry of sights and smells that defined the bustling marketplace. Yet amidst this lively morning scene, Prince's world was a blur of urgency and mounting panic.

As he burst out of Sahria Nivas, his feet barely touched the ground before he realized the gravity of his situation—he was late. The carefree pace of the villagers around him contrasted sharply with his own frantic energy. His breath quickened, each inhale sharp and desperate, his mind racing as fast as his legs. The soft morning sunlight stretched across the road ahead, turning the path into a glowing ribbon that seemed to lead endlessly toward his destination. Overhead, a few white clouds drifted lazily against the blue sky, indifferent to the turmoil below.

But Prince had no time to appreciate the beauty of the morning. His thoughts were consumed by one singular goal: reaching school before the bell rang.

As he reached a crossroads, he skidded to a halt, his sneakers kicking up a small cloud of dust. The main road stretched out before him—long, straight, and terribly familiar. It was the usual route, reliable but slow, and today it looked more like a road to failure. Prince could almost feel the minutes ticking away, each second taunting him with the threat of tardiness.

Prince (thinking, with rising urgency): "If I take the main road, I'll definitely be late. But if I cut through the alley, I might just make it."

His gaze shifted to the narrow alley that cut through the heart of the village—a shortcut that he had used many times before. The alley was a world unto itself, dark and narrow, with towering stone walls on either side that seemed to close in as you ventured deeper. The alley had a reputation for being a bit ominous, the kind of place where the light barely touched and shadows seemed to take on a life of their own. But Prince knew it well, and today, it was his only hope.

Without another thought, he turned sharply and sprinted into the alley. The world around him narrowed to this single path, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls as he pushed himself to move faster. The air in the alley was cooler, almost damp, and the sound of the bustling village faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic pounding of his heart and the sharp intake of his breath. The further he went, the darker it became, the light from the entrance a fading memory.

But then, disaster struck.

As Prince dashed through the alley, his foot suddenly landed on something soft. The sensation sent a jolt of panic through him, and he stumbled, nearly losing his balance. A sinking feeling washed over him as he realized what had happened. Slowly, he glanced back, his heart plummeting as he saw the source of his misstep.

He had stepped on Bhura, the neighborhood dog, who had been napping peacefully in the cool shade of the alley. Bhura was well-known in the village, not just for his size but for his grumpy disposition. The large, brown dog was a fixture in the alley, feared and respected in equal measure by those who passed through.

Bhura's eyes snapped open, and with a loud, pained yelp, he sprang to his feet. His fur bristled with irritation, and he turned to face Prince, his eyes blazing with fury. The growl that rumbled from his chest was low and menacing, sending a shiver down Prince's spine.

Prince (panicked, his voice trembling): "Bhura... Youuuu!"

There was no time to think. Panic surged through Prince's veins as Bhura's growl grew louder, more dangerous. In a split second, Prince turned and bolted down the alley, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of terror. The narrow path that had once promised a quick escape now felt like a labyrinth with no end in sight, and the sound of Bhura's heavy footsteps behind him was like the ticking of a time bomb.

Prince (desperately, breathless, his voice shaking): "Bro... bro Bhura, I didn't step on your tail on purpose! I was just in a hurry and took the shortcut! If I knew you were here, I'd never have come this way!"

But Bhura was beyond listening. The usually lazy dog was now a force of nature, driven by anger and instinct. His growls grew fiercer, more ferocious, and he barreled after Prince, his teeth bared and ready to snap.

Bhura (growling ferociously, with unrelenting anger): "Grrrrrrr..."

Prince's fear escalated to pure panic. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed his legs to their limit, each step feeling more desperate than the last. The alley twisted and turned, each bend only serving to remind him how close Bhura was. The hot, humid air clung to his skin, making every breath feel like a struggle, but stopping wasn't an option.

Prince (frantically thinking, his eyes darting around): "I need to get away... But where can I go?"

In his frantic search for an escape, a memory flashed in his mind—his friend's house was nearby, just a few more twists and turns away. It was a small chance, but it was all he had.

Gathering whatever strength he had left, Prince made a split-second decision. He reached into his bag and pulled out his water bottle, his last hope of distracting Bhura. With a quick prayer, he hurled the bottle behind him, sending it flying toward the enraged dog. Bhura, caught off guard by the unexpected projectile, hesitated for just a moment, his growls turning into a confused snarl as the bottle clattered on the pavement.

That moment of hesitation was all Prince needed. He dashed around the next corner, his heart still hammering in his chest, his lungs burning with the effort. The adrenaline surged through him as he pushed himself harder, the image of Bhura’s angry face still fresh in his mind.

Finally, he spotted his friend Vikram's house up ahead. Relief washed over him, but he didn’t slow down. With one last burst of energy, he threw himself toward the gate, flung it open, and sprinted inside, not caring about the noise he was making. All that mattered was that he had escaped.

As Prince stumbled into the courtyard, his heart still racing, he collided head-on with someone. The impact was strong, jolting him back to reality. For a brief moment, he thought he might fall, but instinct took over. He reached out, grabbing hold of the person he had crashed into, trying to steady himself.

The world seemed to stop spinning as Prince regained his balance and looked up. He found himself staring into a pair of wide, startled eyes that belonged to Nidhi.

Nidhi, an 18 year-old girl with an ethereal beauty that seemed to radiate from within, stood before him. Her long, wavy hair, a mesmerizing blend of golden and black, cascaded down her back, swaying gently with the movement. Her deep, almond-shaped eyes, a striking shade of crimson, held a mix of surprise and something more elusive, something that made Prince's breath catch in his throat. Her delicate pink lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak, but the words seemed to be lost in the moment.

Prince realized, with growing embarrassment, that his hands were still resting on her slender waist. Nidhi’s hands were pressed against his chest, as if she, too, was holding on to him for balance. The closeness between them was intense, charged with an unspoken energy that neither of them knew how to navigate.

The courtyard around them was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun, the light filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air was filled with the scent of marigold petals, which Nidhi had been carrying in a small basket. Now, those petals floated gently around them, creating a surreal, almost magical atmosphere.

Prince's heart raced, his breath hitching as he became acutely aware of the warmth of Nidhi's breath on his face. The moment was undeniably awkward, yet there was something else—something electric, something that made his pulse quicken even more. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his mind scrambling to find a way out of the situation without making it worse.

But as he gazed into Nidhi’s eyes, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had no idea what to do. Panic began to set in, and for a split second, he feared that Nidhi would scream, or worse, lash out at him for his clumsiness. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Hesitantly, he lifted one hand from her waist and gently placed it over her soft lips, his touch light and trembling as if to quietly plead with her not to make a scene.

Prince (softly, his voice tinged with nervousness): "Shh... Please, don't say anything... Bhura is still outside."

His words were almost a whisper, filled with a trembling nervousness that laid bare the vulnerability in his heart. As Prince’s hand lightly covered Nidhi’s soft lips, he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath beneath his fingers. The moment was fraught with tension, but not the kind that screamed of danger—rather, it was the quiet, simmering tension that comes with the sudden realization of closeness, the kind that sends a rush of warmth through your veins and leaves you breathless.

For a few long seconds, the world seemed to hold its breath. The courtyard, usually a space filled with the sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the distant hum of village life—was now enveloped in a surreal stillness. The marigold petals that had been floating down like golden confetti now lay scattered at their feet, creating a soft, fragrant carpet that only added to the dreamlike quality of the moment.

Nidhi, still pressed against Prince's chest, could feel her breath growing heavier, each inhale deeper than the last as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. The unexpected closeness, the warmth of his body against hers—it all felt so sudden, so disorienting. Her mind raced, caught between a swirl of conflicting emotions. Anger flickered like a flame in her chest, ignited by the audacity of this boy who had dared to pull her into such an intimate moment without warning. Discomfort followed, curling around her thoughts like a thorny vine, making her painfully aware of how close they were, of how she could feel his heart beating rapidly against her palms.

And then there was something else—something unnameable that lingered in the space between them, a strange, unbidden connection that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She could see it in his eyes too, the same uncertainty, the same raw, unfiltered emotion. It was as if, for a brief moment, they had both been stripped of their defenses, forced to confront each other in a way neither had expected.

To be continued....