Holi had never really belonged to Arohi.
It came every year with the same loudness—bright colors thrown carelessly into the air, laughter echoing through narrow streets, people losing themselves in moments that seemed so easy for them to live. But for Arohi, it had always felt distant, like something she watched from the edges rather than something she was part of.
Until this time.
This year, something inside her had already begun to shift—even before the colors touched her skin.
The morning started with chaos.
Her sister stormed into the room, already covered in pink and yellow, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Arohi! Bahar aa!"
(Arohi! Come outside!)
Before she could even respond, a handful of color landed across her face.
Cold. Sudden. Alive.
"Stop!" Arohi laughed, trying to shield herself, but there was no real resistance in her movements.
Within seconds, her cousins joined in—loud, unstoppable, relentless in their excitement. Someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her outside. Someone smeared green across her cheeks. Someone splashed water over her head.
And for once—
Arohi didn't hold back.
She ran.
She chased.
She laughed louder than she ever had before.
Her hands reached for colors without hesitation, smearing them across familiar faces. Her laughter felt unfamiliar, almost like it belonged to someone else—but she didn't question it.
For those few hours, she forgot everything.
She forgot how she looked.
She forgot how she judged herself.
She forgot the quiet heaviness she carried every other day.
She was just… free.
But even in the middle of all that joy—
a thought found its way back to her.
Soft at first.
Then stronger.
Then impossible to ignore.
Zafar.
She wondered where he was.
And she already knew the answer.
He would be at the shop.
Working.
Watching life happen from a distance instead of being part of it.
By afternoon, the chaos began to settle.
The streets were quieter now, marked with faded colors and traces of laughter that had already begun to disappear. Arohi stood near the doorway of her house, her fingers still stained, her hair slightly damp, her heartbeat slower—but not completely calm.
Her father's voice echoed in her mind.
"Bas, bahut ho gaya. Ab bahar nahi jana."
(Enough now. Don't go outside again.)
She had nodded earlier.
She always did.
But now—
something inside her refused to stay still.
Her mind told her it was unnecessary. That there was no reason to go. That it didn't matter.
But her heart—
it pulled her, gently but firmly.
Before she could stop herself, she stepped out.
The streets felt different now—quieter, softer, almost like the world was catching its breath after too much excitement.
Her steps were slower this time.
More aware.
More intentional.
As if some part of her knew—this moment mattered.
When she reached the departmental store, she paused.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
This is a bad idea.
For a moment, she almost turned back.
But then—
she looked inside.
Zafar was there.
Standing behind the counter, calm as ever, untouched by the chaos that had painted the rest of the world.
For a moment, he didn't notice her.
And in that moment, she saw him the way she always did—quiet, distant, almost separate from everything else.
Then he looked up.
Their eyes met.
And he smiled.
A soft laugh escaped him.
Not mocking.
Not loud.
Just… amused.
Like he was looking at a child who had run wild through colors without thinking twice.
Arohi suddenly became aware of herself—her messy hair, her stained clothes, her face covered in uneven colors.
But strangely—
she didn't feel ashamed.
She stepped inside.
The bell at the door rang softly.
The shop was empty.
No customers. No distractions.
Just them.
"I had so much fun today," she began, almost immediately.
Her words came out fast, unfiltered.
"My sister literally attacked me first, and then my cousins—they were worse—and I tried to run but they didn't let me, and—"
She laughed lightly.
She kept talking.
About everything.
About nothing.
Zafar listened.
Like always.
Quietly.
Completely.
As if every word she spoke mattered.
After a while, her voice slowed.
Not because she ran out of things to say—
but because she became aware again.
Of him.
Of herself.
Of the silence that followed.
That's when he spoke.
"अगर हम होली खेल पाते…"
(If I could play Holi…)
"तो आपको रंग लगा कर मज़ा ही आ जाता।"
(…it would've been fun to put color on you.)
The words settled softly between them.
Arohi smiled, a little shy now.
"ओह हाँ… लेकिन आप तो नहीं खेल पाते," she replied.
(Oh… but you don't really get to play, right?)
He nodded.
There was something quiet in that nod.
Something almost like disappointment.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The air felt heavier now.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… different.
"ठीक है… कोई ना," she said softly.
(It's okay… doesn't matter.)
And then—
everything changed.
Zafar stepped slightly closer.
Before she could process it—
he reached out.
And held her hand.
Time stopped.
Her breath caught.
Her thoughts vanished.
For a second, she didn't even understand what had happened.
His hand was warm.
Steady.
Certain.
Hers—
completely still.
She didn't pull away.
Not immediately.
Not instinctively.
Because she didn't know how to.
Her heart started racing.
Loud.
Uncontrollable.
Echoing through her chest, her ears, her entire being.
There were no voices outside.
No movement.
No interruption.
Just that moment.
Something inside her shifted.
Something new.
Something she didn't have a name for.
It wasn't just happiness.
It wasn't just nervousness.
It was something deeper.
More complicated.
A question she couldn't form.
A feeling she couldn't understand.
And yet—
she didn't move.
Because somewhere deep inside—
there was a part of her that didn't want to.
And that scared her.
More than anything else.
Outside, the last traces of Holi faded.
Colors washed away.
Laughter disappeared.
The world returned to normal.
But for Arohi—
something stayed.
A moment.
A touch.
A line crossed—
without her even realizing it.
And somewhere deep inside—
a quiet voice whispered—
This isn't as simple as it feels.
But she didn't listen.
Not yet.