Author’s POV
The town wasn’t on tourist maps. Just another dot near a bigger city — Banaras — where dreams clung to rooftop clotheslines and parents clung tighter to tradition. In the quiet lanes, the clash of generations wasn’t loud — it was silent, buried under folded sarees and Sunday rituals.
In a modest Jaiswal household, Avira was quietly building a life that no one else could see — yet. She wasn’t loud about her rebellion. She didn’t shout, fight, or slam doors. She simply dreamed harder than anyone else dared.
Avira’s POV
“I don’t want a small life,” I muttered, writing it again in my diary. Sometimes I feel like I’m living between two walls — one built by family, the other by fear. One says, “this is how it’s always been,” and the other says, “don’t you dare try.”
I don’t hate Banaras. I just don’t want to die here. I want to be more than someone’s daughter, someone’s wife, someone’s placeholder. I want to matter.
Maa’s voice called me from the kitchen. “Avi, come light the diya. Puja’s ready.”
I sighed. “Coming,” I said, switching out my pajama top for a clean kurti. No kajal, no lipstick — just my bare face, sleepy eyes, and a mind racing with a hundred designs no one else could see.
I lit the diya, the warmth of the flame brushing my fingers. The scent of incense curled through the room, mixing with the distant sound of a Bollywood bhajan. Everything felt the same, like it always did. Predictable. Controlled. Safe.
At dinner, Papa brought up another boy. “Software engineer in Hyderabad. Good salary. His mother liked your photo.”
I gave my practiced smile — the one that looked polite but distant. “Okay,” I said, chewing slowly, hoping the conversation would float elsewhere. But it never did.
Later that night, I went to the terrace. My escape. The sky looked infinite, as if trying to prove something — that there’s more out there. That I’m not wrong to want it.
I whispered to the night air, like I always do: "Wherever you are… don’t forget to find me."
Aarav’s POV
Mom’s voice note played again. “We found a girl. Simple, educated, family-oriented. Her horoscope matches yours.”
I deleted the message.
Outside my London flat, the skyline glittered like opportunity. But it all felt so hollow. I had a great job, a sleek apartment, and a bank balance that impressed everyone — except me.
I looked at the moon. Strange how it looked the same, no matter where I was. As if someone else — maybe her — was watching it too.
Sometimes I wonder if the life I’ve built is real, or just the most expensive cage in the world.
Author’s Note
Every story begins with a whisper.
Thank you for hearing this one. 🌙
If Avira’s quiet rebellion or Aarav’s distant ache touched you even a little
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— with love,
   Noor🕊️
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