Today marks the festival of lights, and I am bursting with excitement to light firecrackers and sparklers. Since childhood, Diwali has filled me with joy and anticipation. This festival isn't just a celebration; it symbolises the triumph of light over darkness in our lives. I firmly believe it brings genuine brightness to our families. I love Diwali for its ability to transcend religious boundaries and unite people from various faiths. It’s a powerful reminder of our shared humanity.

For the past three days, children in my neighbourhood and colony have been firing crackers without stopping. Sometimes, it’s nice to see them enjoying themselves. My heart tells me that we can't let the children have all the fun, so I sometimes escape from my meetings and join them. I tell myself it's because I’m worried they might harm themselves with the firecrackers, but honestly, that's not the real reason. Today, being the festival, I don’t need any excuses to enjoy time with the kids.

**Time Skip to Evening**

It's 6 PM now, and I'm getting ready for Lakshmi Pooja at my house. My mom has been busy since morning preparing for the guests. I actually need her help because I don’t know how to drape this saree.

I’ve been struggling for 30 minutes trying to learn from YouTube videos, but no luck. The people in those videos make it look so easy, while I feel like it’s easier to hack into systems than to drape this saree!

“Kashvi, Kashvi! Oh God, this girl has been in her room for 40 minutes! Time is running out, and guests will be here soon!” my mom, Shreya, calls out while heading toward my room.

I hear her knock on my door. “Haan, Ma, coming!” I respond as I open the door. When my mom enters, she is dumbstruck, watching me struggle with the saree. She bursts into laughter, leaving me confused as to what is so funny. “Ma, instead of laughing, can you please help me?”

Shreya stops laughing, approaches me, and begins to drape the saree. “The dangerous criminal lawyer of India doesn’t know how to drape a saree—waah!” she laughs. “Ma, stop it, okay? I’ll learn it someday. Just keep watching.” After a few minutes, I manage to get ready, and I join my mom to arrange everything for the Pooja.

Two hours later, the Pooja is complete, and everyone has gone home. Now, it's finally time to light the crackers—the part I have been waiting for! I head downstairs without changing my attire and start lighting fireworks with the kids.

**On the Other Side:**

While it’s Diwali today, my ears have been ringing for days! Why do these people get enjoyment from firing crackers that make me feel irritated? How can they even enjoy making this much noise? Don’t they get headaches or something? Whatever, I’ll just put in my earbuds so I can get some peaceful sleep.

It’s been 10 minutes since the car stopped moving. Is there an issue with the car? Why did the driver halt in the middle of the road?

I take out one of my earbuds and ask the driver, “What happened,

Raman Uncle? Why did you stop the car?”

“Sir, it’s Diwali today, and the children here won’t move even though I’ve honked a few times,” Raman Uncle replies.

What the hell? I feel my frustration rising even more. I’ve been dealing with patients since morning, and I’m exhausted. All I want is to go home and sleep, but these kids are planning to keep me awake on the roads!

I step out of my car toward the children. The noise is deafening compared to when I was inside the car. The smoke from the crackers surrounds me, making it difficult to see. Suddenly, I hear someone shouting happily while firing crackers with the kids. As I approach that person, I feel breathless when I look into her eyes. With each step I take closer to her, my heart races, warning me to hold back. Just seeing her instantly erases all my stress and irritation. Is this what they call love at first sight?

Even though I'm not sure what this feeling is, why is my heart racing like crazy? Please don’t tell me I have a heart condition, especially coming from a cardiologist! Ugh, Rudransh, just go home and get some sleep. After not sleeping for the past two days, you’re acting like an idiot who has lost his mind from operating on hearts. And remember, Mr. Rudransh, you’re not a kid anymore; you shouldn’t believe in love at first sight. Those kinds of things happen in fairy tales, but in reality, something like that doesn't exist!

After saying this to myself I go back from there and get into my car and tell Raman uncle to change the direction and go from there to my home. But even though no matter how much I try, After seeing her gleeful and overjoyed, my heart felt as if the sky smiled with colours. Her eyes weren't brown, they were the colour of every dream I never dared to speak. I don't know what made me think about her, but she is a flower and I'm a storm, beautiful yet destructive to one another..

*At Shreya’s house*

I jumped onto my bed with a loud thud, staring up at the ceiling. I reflected on how I had enjoyed today after many years filled with silence, disappointment, and tears. For the first time, I saw my mom truly enjoy the festival with me, and it made me feel a happiness I can't quite explain. Our lives have changed so much because of one man, and I struggle to unfold the layers of our misery, pleading, crying, and terror. The irony is that the man responsible for our suffering is my mom's husband and, unfortunately, my father—who doesn't even deserve that title.

After some time, I came out of the bathroom, changed into something comfy, and went downstairs for dinner because I was starving! I hadn’t eaten anything since morning since my mom was observing a fast, and I was sort of forced to do it with her.

“Mom, my dear mother! Where are you? Come quickly and serve your cute, innocent daughter some food before she passes out from hunger!” I shouted. My mom soon appeared, bringing food to the table.

“Don’t worry, I’m not an evil mom who would let her daughter starve,” she said as she served me. I looked at her with puppy dog eyes, silently pleading for her to feed me. She glanced back at me with an exasperated expression and started feeding me while teasing, “What a lazy buffalo I have! Even buffaloes are better than you.” and I asked her - What did I even do? Can't a mother feed her daughter? She replied - “Don’t you have your own hands to eat with?” she asked, rolling her eyes. " Who said I don't have? I have but my hands got tired of doing the housework from morning and lighting the fireworks, so that's why I can't eat with my own hands" I said.

Later, I returned to my room and opened my phone to check some messages. Soon after, a smile formed on my lips because the text was from my favourite person in the world. The message read:

******: Excuse me, I actually want you to get me bail for a murder case!!!

Kashvi: Okay… Can you explain the case to me? Who did the murder?

******: Me! I'm the one who's going to do it in a few minutes because some girl named KASHVI dared to forget about her best friend and hasn’t texted or called her in over a week!!

Kashvi: I heard she’s a famous lawyer. Don’t you think you would be in trouble, Miss Vyaara?

Vyaara: No, not at all! That’s why I’m asking you to get me bail!!

Kashvi: You want me to get bail for you for murdering me??

Vyaara: Yeah!

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The message read:

******: Excuse me, I actually want you to get me bail for a murder case!!!

Kashvi: Okay… Can you explain the case to me? Who did the murder?

******: Me! I'm the one who's going to do it in a few minutes because a girl named Kashvi dared to forget about her best friend and hasn’t texted or called her in over a week.

Kashvi: I heard she’s a famous lawyer. Don’t you think you would be in trouble, Miss Vyaara?

Vyaara: No, not at all! That’s why I’m asking you to get me bail!!

Kashvi: You want me to get bail for you for murdering me??

Vyaara: Yeah!

Kashvi: You do realise threatening me with murder is not the best way to get my attention, right?

Vyaara: Oh please. If I actually killed you, I'd be doing your clients a favour.

Kashvi: Wow. That's premeditated, strong grounds for life imprisonment.

Vyaara: And strong grounds for you to finally look at me instead of your case files.

After seeing that text, Kashvi falls silent for a moment, guilt flickering across her face.

Kashvi: I'm sorry Vyvy. I didn't mean to shut you out. I was just -

Vyaara: Save the defence speech, counsellor. You'll have a chance to make it up tomorrow.

Kashvi: Sure!!

Vyaara: Now shoo shoo go away.

I laughed seeing the last text and then went to my beauty sleep.

And that's how Kashvi spent her night, but little did she know, even though she is sleeping now, she was awake in someone's thoughts!!

*At Rudransh's house*

His pov :

After a long 35-minute drive, I've finally reached home because of those crackers and everything I had to take another route. First thing I did was head to my room, took a long shower and tried to shake off my exhaustion from the past two days. Freshened up, I walked into the kitchen, only to find it almost empty. After searching through the shelves, I discovered two lonely packets of Maggie noodles staring at me.

I sighed. Because I never really liked noodles, but hunger doesn't care about preferences. With a small smile, I've decided to cook these. While waiting for those noodles to get cooked, I checked my phone.

A notification popped up my younger brother has messaged me:

“Yo brother! I am not coming home tonight or tomorrow. Don't miss me!”

I chuckled and quickly typed back :

“Why on earth is the kitchen empty? Not a single thing to cook!”

A moment later, another message lit up my screen:

“Because you're the ‘Masterchef’ of this house, not me. I only know how to operate on brains, not on onions.”

I replied back:

“Mr. Brain ka chef, why haven't you been home properly for a week?”

Almost instantly, he replied:

Patient’s brother!! Don't tell me you forgot that I'm a neurosurgeon. Too many patients can't complain because it's my job.”

Rudransh stared at the screen for a moment, his smile softening. Of course. He's been drowning in work again.

“Okay.. take care of yourself and try to come home early, you monkey!! Because I don't miss your blabbering.” 

And of course, his brother knew what Rudransh meant.

After 10 minutes my noodles were completed. Not my favourite but hunger wins- I say to myself and eat it.

Later, lying in my room I tossed and turned on the bed because the house felt quite empty without my idiot brother's nonsense chatter. But what kept me restless wasn't just the silence - it was the thought of her. No matter how much I tried to distract myself, her face returned like a melody I couldn't forget.

It felt as if she had cast some spell on me before we even met. My heart raced, beating so fast that it felt like it was competing in the Olympics for a gold medal. My tesoro, I don't know if we will meet again, but remember that if I get the chance to see you again, I'm never going to leave you, and Eres solo mía.

*On the other side*

Kashvi’s POV

Today, I cancelled all my work because I have an important task ahead — I have to present my defense speech to none other than Madam Counsellor herself, Miss Vyaara. She’s been my best friend for over two years now, and honestly, she’s one of the purest souls I’ve ever come across. In this polluted world, she’s my pure oxygen.

Before heading to her place, I made sure to pick up her favorites — a bouquet of red roses and some dark chocolate. I know she can’t resist them; it’s practically her weakness.

After a long 30-minute drive, I finally reached her place. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I pressed the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opened… and there she stood. Sleepy face, tired body, clumsy room behind her — exactly what you’d expect from a busy architect’s den.

—

Vyaara’s POV

These days, life has been nothing but chaos. Project after project, client after client. I was just thinking about finally giving myself a break when the doorbell rang. With a sigh and a trace of irritation, I dragged myself to the door.

And who do I see? Of course — the biggest idiot in my life.

Everyone else calls her one of the most dangerous lawyers in India, but in my eyes? She’s nothing more than a stubborn, dramatic idiot. I don’t understand how people find her intimidating when to me… she’s just her.

Vyaara : “Oh my see, who remembers where I live?” (I say with sarcasm dripping from my voice)

Kashvi:  “Your highness, I request you to forgive this stupid friend of yours and show her some mercy.”

After a few seconds of silence, I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

Vyaara: “Mercy? Hmm… I'm still deciding whether to throw you out of my palace gates or make you mop the marble floors as punishment.”

Kashvi:  (pressing her palms together in mock- pleading) “Fine, I'll mop your palace floors. But only if you provide me with a golden mop , preferably diamond studded, your highness”.

Vyaara: (trying to supress a smile) “You haven't changed. Still dramatic and ridiculous.”

Kashvi:  “ And you love me for it.” (Winks)

After stepping into my home, I asked her to stand still- my couch was a mess with all my tools scattered around.While I tidy up, I tell her to sit, and I begin shifting my things to my room. A few minutes later, I return to the living room and notice that she isn't there. When I look around, she tells me to turn around. When I do, I see her kneeling down, presenting me with a bouquet of red roses—my favourite flowers. She says, “Sorry, darling! I won't do it again; I didn't mean to ignore your texts and calls!” I couldn't help but smile as I accepted the roses, touched by the gesture, she playfully caught her ears and I chuckled saying “Okay, now stop it; I accept your apology.” Later, she surprises me with some dark chocolate, which I can’t resist!

**Vyaraa's POV:**

Later, we chatted about a lot of things that we usually refer to as "best friend talk." I tend to be more of a listener than a talker, so I don't speak much, but sometimes, just sometimes, she makes me feel like a different person. Kashvi has this incredible power to change people for the better. She is someone very close to my heart. Whenever I lose hope in life or in something else, she is always there to lift me up.

I've built high walls around myself, especially when it comes to my loved ones, because it hurts more to let them in. It's exhausting to experience the same type of pain repeatedly; I want to release this pain somehow. Deep down, I'm still afraid. Everyone has their own issues and problems, and that doesn't mean they're weak, but sometimes I find myself feeling weak. Yet, I know I'm strong for having come this far.

That's why I immerse myself in my work. It's tiring, but it keeps me from drowning in flashbacks and overwhelming thoughts. It helps me stay present, focusing on the moment rather than the past.

It's been two years since I met Kashvi, and to be honest, something in my mind has shifted because of her. I usually keep people at arm's length, distancing myself. Yet, Kashvi has changed that. She makes me forget my pain when I’m with her, and I enjoy every second spent together. She offers me a different perspective on life.

She has fought her own battles, so do I . That's why I want to be her warrior and fight her battles instead of my own, because I know she is still quietly battling her own challenges.

End of POV

---

Kashvi POV:

I’m so glad I found someone like Vyaara—as my best friend, my soul sister. She understands my pain in ways no one else does. She is my home in a world that often feels chaotic. Whenever I feel crushed or exhausted, the first person I turn to is always Vyaara, without hesitation.

She doesn’t trust people easily, and she keeps her boundaries—even with me. Sometimes it hurts, but I respect her for it. I know she’s been through things she doesn’t share, just as I haven’t shared everything with her. We both carry scars, and we both fear being hurt again. And I understand that completely.

What I love about her is how she handles everything with calm and clarity. She cares deeply but rarely shows it. She loves quietly, fiercely, and with a loyalty that’s rare to find. She is someone who embodies both fire and ice—passionate yet composed, strong yet sensitive. And above all, she understands me in ways no one else ever could.

End of POV

Rudransh POV:

It had been 45 days since I last saw the woman who made my heart skip a beat. I had gone to Germany on urgent work, managing one of my hospital branches there, and stayed for two weeks. I returned to India just three days ago.

Even surrounded by crowds and countless distractions, my mind refused to let her go. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t even know her name. And yet… just the thought of her made my chest tighten and my heart whisper in a way I couldn’t ignore. Her smile, the way she moved, the soft warmth in her eyes—it all lingered with me, like a tiny spark I couldn’t put out.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed my PA barging into my room without knocking—a habit I hate more than anything, because it instantly makes me irritated.

Before I could even yell at him, he suddenly showed me a video

A routine heart surgery has ended in heartbreak, and the blame is falling squarely on Dr Rudransh. The patient, Mrs Mehra, wife of journalist Anil Mehra, died following complications during the operation, leaving her family devastated and angry.

Anil Mehra did not hold back in speaking to the press: “My wife went in for treatment, and she never came out alive. Dr Rudransh promised care, but he failed. This is not just a mistake—this is negligence.”

Eyewitnesses and family members allege that the doctor ignored warnings and took unnecessary risks during the procedure. Legal sources confirm that a formal complaint has been filed, and investigations are expected to begin immediately.

Public outrage has grown, with many questioning whether even the most skilled hands can excuse what some are calling reckless decisions. For Dr Rudransh, this is not just a headline—it is a direct attack on his judgment, ethics, and responsibility in a life-and-death situation.

I was astonished. How dare that journalist try to put the blame on me? Anger surged, but I calmed myself, took a few deep breaths, and then asked my PA, “Arrange a meeting in three minutes. Everyone who operated on Mr Anil Mehra’s wife that day must be present.”

Three minutes later, everyone had arrived. I sat in my chair, my eyes red, my gaze piercing. My voice was serious, cold, and unwavering.

“Can anyone explain what’s happening here?”

The atmosphere in the room turned tense, thick with anticipation. Everyone knew the wrath of Rudransh, especially when it came to his hospital, his reputation, and his name. Suddenly, I slammed my fist on the table.

“Didn’t anyone hear what I asked? Or are you all deaf?” I roared.

One man stood, trembling slightly but forcing confidence. “Sir, we understand your anger, but please… hear us out. We have an explanation.”

I nodded, signalling him to continue. He explained the entire situation carefully, then concluded,

“Sir, we did our best to save the patient, but we couldn’t. Apologies won’t bring her back—but showing the evidence will reveal the truth.”

A heavy silence followed. After a few moments, I spoke, my tone sharp and cutting: “I appreciate your courage, Mr Pranav, and I thank you for your explanation and evidence. As for the rest of you… I think you are all deaf and dumb!”

I stood, leaving the room, my steps echoing in the tense silence behind me.

I returned to my room, my thoughts tangled as I tried to decide my next move. Although there was nothing wrong on our side—and we had evidence to prove it—my mind remained restless. I called my assistant and asked him to bring me the medical history of the deceased patient. Within five minutes, he returned with the file, and as I flipped through the pages, several intriguing details caught my attention.

Just as I was about to call my assistant again, I received a call from Mrs Aditi Joshi, a retired judge who had recently stepped down due to health issues. I answered the call and said, "How are you, Mrs Joshi? I hope you are doing well." I kept my tone polite. She replied, "I'm doing great, Mr Rudransh. Thanks to you, if you hadn't operated on me, I might not be here today." I smiled slightly and asked, "It's my duty, Mrs Joshi. May I ask why you called me? Sorry for asking like this, but I'm a bit busy right now."

She responded, "I know, boy. I've seen the news this morning. Don't worry, I know it's not your fault that's why I called you—to suggest some good lawyers who can handle your case effectively." I felt relieved that she had chosen to reach out and provide assistance during this challenging time.

She mentioned a few names but emphasised, "However, Mr Rudransh, I would highly recommend Miss Kashvi. She is capable of presenting the facts without fear and stands for justice no matter what. Just remember, she doesn't like recommendations, so keep that in mind and schedule an appointment with her quickly." I replied, "Thank you for your advice, Mrs Joshi. I will definitely keep that in mind." She responded, "I'm just showing my gratitude, so don't waste any more time. God bless you," and then she ended the call.

I immediately called my assistant and asked him to start the car for Miss Kashvi’s office. Without hesitation, he complied. The journey would take about forty-five minutes, and as the car pulled out, my mind wandered back to what Mrs Joshi had said.

I had heard Kashvi’s name before—often whispered in the news, spoken with a mix of respect and awe. She was no ordinary lawyer. Known for her fearlessness, she could silence an entire courtroom with nothing more than her presence. Every case she touched seemed to carry her trademark: precision, clarity, and an unshakable sense of justice. There was something about her fierce, unbending demeanour that demanded attention. She was bold, uncompromising. In Kashvi, I saw not just a lawyer, but the very embodiment of what a lawyer should be.

We arrived at the lawyer’s chambers, and to my surprise, the waiting area was crowded with people, including several officials. This sight made mpiqued my curiosity who this lawyer really was. My assistant approached the reception desk to arrange a meeting while I observed the crowd.

A few minutes later, he returned, looking uneasy. “Sir, I forgot to book an appointment. When I checked online, the earliest available slot was either a week or even a month from now.”

I looked at him firmly. “We don’t have that much time, Mr Sharma. Let me handle this.”

I walked up to the receptionist and said politely, “Excuse me, Miss. I apologise for the disturbance, but this is an urgent matter. Could you please inform your boss that Mr Rudransh from Aureus Hospitals would like to meet with her?”

She nodded with professional calm. “Please give me a few minutes, sir,” she responded before making the call.

I sat there impatiently, tapping my feet on the floor. After a few minutes, my assistant approached me and said we had secured the appointment, but we'd need to wait at least 25 minutes. I nodded at my assistant and continued to wait.

Kashvi's POV:

Lately, balancing my cases and personal life feels like a trial in itself. Today seems like it’s going to be hectic but certainly entertaining. Just now, I met a journalist who approached me seeking justice for his wife's death. Here's the interesting part: he brought some evidence that seems very credible. He wants me to take on his case, which has been making headlines since this morning. It's associated with Aureus Hospital and particularly involves Mr Rudransh.

I’ve seen this man receive awards for his exceptional surgical skills, intelligence, and ability to solve problems even in dire situations. However, what piqued my curiosity and excitement is the claim from the news and my client, the journalist, said that Rudransh must be punished by law and have his medical license revoked due to the negligence that resulted in a patient’s death. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something feels off. I opened the case file and began reviewing it again, searching for any discrepancies.

Just then, I heard a knock on my door. "Yeah, come in," I said. My PA entered and informed me that someone was there to see me, and it was urgent. When I looked up, I was taken aback to see none other than the famous Mr Rudransh walking toward me.

For a fraction of a second, I was surprised. His reputation preceded him, people like him usually sent their assistants, rarely showing up in person. But I quickly masked the thought and gestured toward the chair opposite mine.

"Please, have a seat, Mr Rudransh," I said, my tone even and professional. "I wasn’t expecting you here today. May I know what brings you to my office?"

He sat down, Something in his look hesitated, just barely. He recovered instantly. “You go straight to the point,” he said, composed and unreadable.

I didn’t flinch. "That’s how I work. Time is valuable, and so is clarity. So, tell me the issue, and I’ll tell you whether I can handle it or not"

For a few moments, silence lingered in the room, but I held his gaze, waiting. Then he leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on the armrest. "There’s a case I’m involved in - a very serious one. And I need your help with it. That's why I'm here.

"Okay", I replied. "If you’re here expecting favours or hoping for me to play around with half-truths, you’re in the wrong place. If I take this case, I’ll need facts. Clean. Unfiltered. And I’ll decide my strategy only after I listen to them."

He studied me for a moment and let out a small smile - "I like how you straightly come to the point, Miss Kashvi. You don't waste time with pretences. Most people I meet circle around before speaking the truth."

"I'm not here to impress you Mr Rudransh! I replied my voice calm but edged with firmness. "I'm here to do my job. Now if you want me to take your case, speak up. What exactly happened?"

He let out a quiet breath, then leaned forward again, and he said, "Okay, let's begin".