Parallel Hearts : Two Worlds, One Love

Let's rewind time.

To the moment Saharsh made a decision — one that broke the rules, but maybe rewrote them too.

Earlier That Night – Deepak's House

Saharsh had crashed on Deepak's bed after convincing his best friend to host him.

But by early morning, a dull ache spread across his chest — slow at first, then sharp, gnawing.

He sat up, clutching his shirt, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

But instead of panicking, he moved — toward his home.

Step by step, as he neared his house, the pain began to fade.

Until he reached the hallway outside his room — and suddenly, he felt a force pulling him in.

A strange magnetic drag, like his body wasn't entirely his anymore.

He clenched his jaw, grounded his heels, and fought it.

He wasn't ready to go in. Not yet. He had to be sure it was safe.

And then — it stopped.

The pain vanished. The pull disappeared.

He took a deep breath, slowly turned the doorknob, and stepped into his room.

What he saw next made his entire universe pause.

There she was —

Rakshita,

fast asleep on his bed.

Her long messy hair spilled across his pillow.

She wore a floral blue frock, her skin glowing in the early light,

cheeks soft with dimples that shaped into little hearts.

Glossy pink lips parted slightly, breathing gently.

She looked like a painting the universe forgot to frame.

Saharsh whispered under his breath, "Rakshita…"

His heart skipped a few beats.

Then, he smiled —

and slipped out to the kitchen.

If the universe had just let her land in his world,

the least he could do was make her a proper welcome breakfast.

He pulled out the ingredients, rolled dough, and started preparing fresh parathas.

And just to wake her up… he purposefully clanged a few utensils.

Present — Saharsh's Room

But instead of delight, he got disaster.

SLAP!

Rakshita stared at him, confused and dazed, her hand still mid-air.

Saharsh stood holding his cheek in shock, mumbling,

"I always thought you were gentler than Anaya...

But clearly, best friends really are the same breed.

Who slaps the one person they've been dying to see?"

Rakshita blinked.

Finally, her brain processed the sight —

the medium-height, messy-haired boy

in a dark blue T-shirt that boldly read "NERD" in shiny letters,

square glasses sliding down his nose, a slightly overgrown moustache brighter than his beard,

hair flopping right over the glasses like he hadn't noticed.

"SAHARSH?!" she screamed.

Saharsh smiled like an idiot caught in headlights. "Told you. Just one more week. And we'd meet."

She looked around the room, then back at him.

"Wait — what is happening?! You're supposed to be in my world right now! It's Sunday! We swap!

What if I don't go back now? What if the swap fails because you're not in the other world?!"

Saharsh replied casually, "Then… you'll just live here forever."

"Shut up, flirt!" she snapped. "I'm being serious. What the hell did you do?!"

Saharsh raised his hands. "Relax. I've got it under control.

If this worked, you'll swap back just by sleeping in this room. I promise."

Rakshita crossed her arms. "Are you sure?"

Saharsh hesitated. "Maybe."

THWUMP!

A pillow smacked him in the face.

"OW— Okay, okay!" he laughed. "Look. Just chill. Eat the parathas. Go freshen up. We'll talk after."

Rakshita glared. "Fine. But while I eat — you'll explain every. Single. Thing.

And I mean everything.

What did you pull off this time? And are you sure this is safe?"

Saharsh looked at her, eyes soft. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

She looked away. "That's not the point…"

He gently pushed a bite of paratha into her mouth.

She blinked, chewed, and muttered, "Ugh… how do I even stay mad at my otherworldly chef? This is amazing."

Saharsh grinned. "That's the spirit."

As she ate, he explained.

"The swap didn't happen when both of us were out of our rooms last time. And the pain hit hard.

So I figured… maybe if only one of us is outside, the pain won't come. The swap won't happen — and we'll be in the same world."

She paused, listening carefully.

"I didn't tell you," he continued, "because I didn't want you to go through that pain again.

If it failed — fine. But if it worked, at least we'd have this moment."

Rakshita lowered her plate slightly. "And what if I never swapped back?"

"We'd figure it out," he said gently. "But right now, this moment matters. Because I finally get to see you.

And honestly? You're even more gorgeous than I imagined."

Rakshita's cheeks flushed. She narrowed her eyes. "You're still a monkey."

Saharsh pouted dramatically. "So much for romance."

Rakshita smiled, lowering her gaze. "It's not that I'm not happy.

It's just… it's new. Awkward. And even weirder because… we told our best friends we were in a relationship."

They both turned to each other.

Raised their hands slowly. Met halfway.

"Oh yeah," Saharsh muttered, "we're lovers now. Officially."

"But we're not," Rakshita deadpanned.

Both burst into laughter — awkward, breathless, nervous laughter —

trying not to look at each other…

but unable to look away.

Both of them had imagined this moment over and over.

What it would feel like to finally sit across from the person they'd written to for weeks…

the one they'd swapped places with, worried for, cooked for, fought with — and laughed silently with through handwritten notes.

They had thought about it every time they thought of each other.

But now — here it was.

And they had no idea what to say.

Rakshita was curled up in Saharsh's blanket like a baby — wrapped in the warmth of a reality she didn't expect to reach.

Saharsh sat on the chair opposite her, back slightly hunched, fingers tapping the armrest rhythmically. Eyes darting between the floor and her.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

But it wasn't comfortable either.

They were facing each other.

But it was like meeting a character from a book you'd memorized — only to realize the real person has a heartbeat, a voice, and eyes that blink awkwardly when you stare too long.

And then—

Both spoke at the exact same time.

Saharsh: "So, how's Anaya?"

Rakshita: "So… how's Deepak?"

Their words collided midair.

They blinked.

Paused.

And then—

Laughed.

The kind of laugh that bursts out unpolished, slightly too loud, entirely too real.

They laughed at the timing, the silence, the weight of the moment they had no idea how to carry.

And then the silence returned.

Only now it felt even heavier.

But somewhere inside it was a shared thought:

We made it. We're really here.

And even if we don't know what to say… it still matters that we're saying it to each other…