A Story That Never Unfolded
Chapter One : A New Life, A Strange Face
Priya sat beside Siddharth, her head gently resting on his shoulder. Her long, soft hair moved slightly in the breeze from the train window.
She smiled.
Siddharth held her hand and whispered, “Just a few more hours and we’ll be in Bangalore. Our new life begins today.”
Her heart fluttered.
They had spent two months planning this move—from finding a broker online, to searching for the perfect flat, to convincing Siddharth’s parents. It was not easy leaving their small house in Aligarh. Siddharth’s mother, a quiet homemaker, had tears in her eyes when they left. His father, a retired Hindi teacher, gave him a firm hug and said, “Work hard, beta. Make us proud.”
Priya had always been a cheerful, beautiful girl with big dreams and kind eyes. She loved to cook—it was her joy, her comfort. After marriage, she had started her own small cloud kitchen from home. People in the neighborhood loved her food, and she had built a little name for herself.
Now, in Bangalore, she dreamed of starting again—only bigger.
“This time, I’ll have even more customers,” she had said while packing her kitchen utensils, her spice boxes carefully wrapped like treasures.
....
After hours of train travel, and many cups of chai at stations along the way, they finally arrived in Bangalore. The city was loud and busy, with fast-moving traffic, tall buildings, and the sweet smell of flowers from roadside stalls.
Their new flat was on the twelfth floor of a quiet building. Across from it stood another apartment block, almost identical. Their kitchen window directly faced the other building’s windows.
Everything was new—new walls, new roads, new neighbors.
They unpacked slowly over the next few days, laughing, decorating, choosing spots for photo frames, and buying small plants. At night, they would sit by the window with tea, watching the city lights twinkle like stars.
Priya had never felt so close to Siddharth. There were no in-laws, no shared space, no one else. Just the two of them, building their own world.
She started searching for local food delivery platforms, gathering ingredients, and making plans to start her new kitchen soon.
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One morning, just a week later, she woke up early and got back to their usual routine.
It was still dark outside—5 AM. The city was quiet, except for the soft humming of ceiling fans and distant birds just beginning their morning songs.
Siddharth was still sleeping.
Priya quietly stepped into the kitchen, tied her hair in a loose bun, and began making breakfast. She chopped onions and tomatoes, lit the gas stove, and prepared her special aloo paratha dough.
As she reached for the kettle, her eyes drifted to the window.
She froze.
In the building directly across from them, one floor down… a man was standing near his window.
And he was staring at her.
Not just looking—staring, without blinking.
His face was calm, almost too calm. His eyes looked focused, deep, searching. As if he was trying to remember something. Or someone.
It felt strange. Like he knew her.
Like he had seen her before.
Priya blinked. Maybe he was just standing there, maybe it was nothing. She looked away quickly.
But her hands had gone cold.
She stirred the tea without really thinking, her mind suddenly cloudy. Who was he? Why did he look at her that way and at that time? Was it just a coincidence?
She told herself not to overthink. “You’re just tired,” she whispered under her breath. “You’re not used to this place yet.”Some Guys are like this only, no matter where you go.
She didn’t tell Siddharth.
But even as she served him breakfast with her usual smile, her thoughts kept drifting back to that man.
And the way his eyes followed her through the glass.
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To be continued…
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