Page 6 of When Love Trespassed

Next Day

Evening had settled over Serene Meadows.

Nandini stood in her garden, watering the plants, humming along to the old Kishore Kumar song playing on the radio, a prized possession of her grandfather. She had always loved the charm of old Bollywood classics, their lyrics dipped in romance and longing.

But as soon as the next song began to play, her hands froze over the garden hose.

“Mere saamne waali khidki mein ek chaand ka tukda rehta hai…” (In the window across from me… A piece of the moon lives.)

Her eyes widened in realisation as the song from the movie ‘Padosan’ played on the radio.

Oh God. Of all the songs to play, it had to be this one.

Her gaze instinctively drifted toward Villa No. 11, where her grumpy neighbour, Mr. Always-Ukhda-Ukhda, lived. The lyrics of the song… they were too apt.

A handsome neighbour? Check.

An ongoing love-hate dynamic? Check.

Except… this Chand Ka Tukda (piece of moon) came with a perpetual scowl and a talent for ruining her grandfather’s peace.

As she let out a soft chuckle at the irony, a movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Her amusement vanished the moment she saw him.

Shaurya had stepped out of his villa, his eyes flicking toward her radio, probably drawn outside by the song that was playing loud and clear. Nandini swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of her surroundings.

Why did he have to come out now ? And why did he have to look like that?

He was dressed in black sweatpants and a fitted white Henley, with sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal strong, veined forearms, looking like a fashion model.

His broad chest stretched against the fabric, and his dark hair was slightly damp, as if he had just taken a shower.

The golden glow of the evening sun kissed his ridiculously sharp jawline, making him look annoyingly good.

Meanwhile, she glanced down at herself and nearly groaned.

Oversized tee. Faded leggings. Hair twisted into a messy bun.

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.

Of course, the one time she wasn’t expecting to see him, she looked like a couch potato. And when she did try to look presentable, he conveniently never showed up.

Her fingers instinctively tugged at the hem of her tee, suddenly feeling underdressed, but it was too late.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The song continued to play in the background, almost mocking the situation.

Jis roz se dekha hai usko (Since the day I’ve seen her)

Ham shamaa jalaana bhool gaye (I’ve forgotten to light the lamp)

Dil thaam ke aise baithe hain (I’m just sitting clutching my heart)

Kahin aana jaana bhool gaye (I’ve forgotten about coming and going anywhere)

Ab aath pahar in aankhon mein (Now constantly in my eyes)

Vo chanchal mukhda rehta hai (That playful face remains)

Mere saamne waali khidki mein (In the window across from me)

Ek chaand ka tukda rehta hai (A piece of the moon lives)

Something shifted in the air as he started walking slowly towards her, almost as if the song had lured him out. The hose in her hand trembled slightly, but she didn’t move. And the song… it continued to play, teasing them both.

Barsaat bhi aakar chali gayi (Even the rain came and left)

Baadal bhi garaj kar baras gaye (Even the clouds thundered and rained)

Par uski ek jhalak ko ham (But for one glimpse of her)

Ai husn ke maalik taras gaye (I kept yearning, o god of beauty)

Kab pyaas bujhegi aankhon ki (When will the thirst of my eyes quench)

Din raat ye dukhda rehta hai (Day and night this worry remains)

Mere saamne waali khidki mein (In the window across from me)

Ek chaand ka tukda rehta hai (A piece of the moon lives)

Afsos ye hai ke vo hamse (The problem is that)

Kuchh ukhda ukhda rehta hai (She stays somewhat detached from me)

Nandini felt her breath hitch as he took slow, deliberate steps towards her, without dropping his laser intense gaze. Why was he looking at her like that? By the time the song ended, Shaurya had almost reached her.

Her fingers tightened around the hosepipe when he stood right in front of her, barely a breath of space separating them. Her heart raced as his deep voice broke the silence.

“You’re flooding my garden.”

“Huh?” Nandini blinked, momentarily disoriented.

He gestured downward.

She followed his gaze and groaned.

She had been so lost in his stupid, ridiculously handsome face that she hadn’t realised she had overwatered her plants, and now the excess water was spilling over into his perfectly maintained garden.

She stepped back quickly, trying to compose herself. Think of an excuse, Nandini. Quick!

“Uh! Well… you should be thankful that even your garden is getting watered because of me. Poor plants. When was the last time you even watered them?”

“This morning,” Shaurya said, tilting his head.

She opened her mouth, then promptly shut it. Damn it. He had?

Before she could come up with a retort, he continued, “Just because I complain about your mango tree doesn’t mean I hate plants. I know how to keep my garden well-maintained.”

The radio crackled, switching to another old melody.

Shaurya’s gaze flickered towards it, then back to her. “And what is this nonsense?”

Nandini frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Playing specifically neighbourly songs to get my attention.” His frowned. “Typical kiddo move.”

“Kiddo?!” Her mouth fell open in shock.

Shaurya crossed his arms, knowing she was going to throw up an argument.

She gasped, her hands on her hips. “I am not a kiddo! I am twenty-five!”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because your behaviour and antics are closer to a five-year-old.”

Nandini’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Don’t act like you’ve never crossed that age, and your countdown began straight from thirty-plus!”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Maybe I did. And maybe that’s why I don’t play mind games with radio songs.”

“Oh, please.” Nandini rolled her eyes. “The song was a coincidence! As if I’d request the radio channel to play this particular song just so I could mess with you.”

Shaurya hummed, clearly unconvinced.

Nandini flipped her hair over her shoulder. “For your kind information, I would never waste my time doing something for a neighbour who has done nothing but irritate my grandfather and me over our precious mango tree.”

The amusement in his eyes dimmed, replaced by an unreadable look. He took a step closer. “Your precious mango tree is ruining my peace… and now, so is your radio.”

Nandini narrowed her eyes. “Dare you say anything about the radio. It’s Daadu’s.”

“Figured,” he huffed, crossing his arms in front.

“Stop being so smart all the time. ‘ Figured ,’ huh?” She mimicked him.

“And by the way, I’m playing these songs in my garden, not yours.

So, if you have a problem, feel free to shut your doors, or even better, your eardrums. I don’t care.

And imagine, even Kishore Kumar predicted our situation decades ago.

The classic ‘grumpy neighbour dynamic’ between us.

” She crossed her arms. “The only difference? Here, the heroine isn’t the one throwing tantrums. The hero is. ”

Shaurya stilled.

A second passed.

Then two.

His expression darkened, his gaze locking onto hers.

She realised her mistake immediately.

Wait. Did she just imply that he was the hero in this story?

What. The. F—

Shaurya’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint. “Hero?” he repeated slowly.

Nandini swallowed. “Hypothetically! Don’t take it literally.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, his phone rang. Irritation flickered across his face as he pulled it out of his pocket.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, answering the call in his deep, business-like tone.

Nandini watched him go, exhaling heavily.

She was flustered, annoyed, and, above all, furious at herself. What was that slip of the tongue?!

Muttering under her breath, she turned back to her plants, gripping the hose with unnecessary aggression.

“The nerve of that man. Always thinks the world revolves around him. The Serene Meadows might, but I certainly won’t.”

She huffed, continuing to water the plants with renewed determination.

But a tiny, traitorous part of her whispered. Then why does your heart race every time he looks at you?

Urgh!

***************

Christmas Day

Fairy lights twinkled along the pathways of Serene Meadows, creating a magical atmosphere.

Christmas wreaths adorned every villa door, and soft carols could be heard from distant houses.

The annual Christmas tradition was in full swing.

Grandpa Keshav, dressed as Santa Claus, was out with his old friends, distributing sweets and gifts to all the neighbours.

At home, Nandini was curled up on the couch, wrapped in her cosy blanket, aimlessly flipping through the channels.

The house felt too quiet without Grandpa’s constant banter, and she was starting to regret staying back.

Just as she settled to watch a romantic Hallmark movie, her gaze snapped to the window.

A shadow moved inside Villa No. 11 from the back door.

Her brows furrowed. Was it Shaurya? But his car wasn’t outside. She had seen him drive away earlier in the evening. If he hadn’t returned yet, then who the hell was that?

She pressed herself against the curtain, peeking into the darkened house next door.

The silhouette moved confidently through the rooms as if he/she knew their way around.

Not the behaviour of a startled thief. Maybe the thief had planned this since long and chose Christmas night in particular, knowing everyone would be too busy in the festivities to notice.

Her heart hammered. Oh God, a burglar? In Serene Meadows? Her Sherlock Holmes instincts kicked in. There was no way she was letting a thief get away with robbing Mr. Grumpy Ahuja.

Nandini spun around the room, looking for something to use as a weapon. Her gaze landed on Grandpa’s antique shotgun mounted on the wall.

Nope. It’s probably rusted.