The late afternoon sun spilled over the red-tiled roofs of north Kolkata, painting everything in a warm haze. The Chakrabarty household was alive with the familiar symphony of a Bengali home — the clang of steel plates from the kitchen, the faint scent of mustard oil, and Maa calling out instructions over the sizzle of frying begunis.

Ayandeep Chakrabarty stepped into the courtyard, the faint squeak of his sneakers echoing against the old mossy walls. His fitted black t-shirt hinted at hours in the gym, but the way he kept adjusting his watch betrayed a restless energy. His brows were drawn — not in anger exactly, but in the guarded focus of someone who preferred dumbbells over small talk. To relatives, he was the “health-conscious, disciplined boy.” To himself, he was a man quietly wrestling with thoughts that wouldn’t let him sleep.

Inside, Meghna Roy sat near the window, sunlight falling over her pale yellow cotton saree — simple, elegant, nothing overdone. A faint stethoscope mark still lingered on her neck from her morning hospital shift. She sat with calm poise, hands folded in her lap, but her mind was anything but steady. She hadn’t seen him in years — not since their school romance ended in a way that only teenagers can manage: too much pride, too little patience.

From the kitchen, Maa’s voice floated in, “Ei, Ayandeep! Come inside, the guest is here.”

He walked in, eyes scanning the room… and stopping.

She looked up. Their gazes locked, holding for a fraction too long. No smiles. No words. Just that jolt of recognition, laced with everything they never said.

The pressure cooker hissed. An aunt adjusted her saree, pretending not to stare. A cousin poured tea into porcelain cups.

But for Ayandeep and Meghna, time seemed to slow, stretching the space between them. They weren’t just meeting as two strangers arranged by family — they were meeting as exes, carrying the weight of an unfinished story and a question neither dared to voice:

What if this was never really over?

Do you think it's over No, don't forget to check my work my story yes I am an obvious writer little mistakes can be forgivable,

Do comment if anything you want to make a change and how you want to change do you want our female lead and main lead to cross path or sad ending its obvious I want to get them a beautiful ending, so it's your task to follow me to comment and get in the world of romance love you my cute little bunnies

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. it is a prologue so episode is small don't worry next time I will give some spicy things but let's see how our female lead makes our main lead fall in love again with her will she let's find out

The mirror caught the soft rustle of Meghna Roy’s saree as she adjusted the pleats, the pale yellow cotton glowing in the late afternoon light. Her mother fussed behind her, fixing her hair, but Meghna’s mind was elsewhere. Every fold of the saree seemed to pull her back to the school days she thought she had buried.

(“Tor matha always hotchhilo, Megh… ekta jinish calm hoye handle korte partish na?”)

[“You always lost your temper, Megh… you could never handle things calmly, could you?”]

She smiled faintly at her own reflection, remembering his half-grumpy, half-teasing tone.

(“Ar tui? Always gym, always football… ekbaro parbi ki bhalo theke amake phone korte?”)

[“And you? Always gym, always football… could you ever stay put and call me properly?”]

Her mother’s voice broke the silence: “Meghna, khub bhalo lagche toh sareeta.” [“Meghna, the saree looks really nice on you.”]

Meghna nodded, but inside her chest, the old banter still replayed, word for word.

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Meanwhile…

The city stretched out in front of Ayandeep Chakrabarty as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight. He had promised himself this was just another formal meeting. Yet, the closer he drove, the harder the memories pressed in.

(“Ayandeep, tui na ekdom impossible. Always angry… jeno puro world tor against.”)

[“Ayandeep, you’re impossible. Always angry… as if the whole world is against you.”]

His hands tightened on the wheel. He could almost hear her voice from years ago, soft but firm, cutting through his stubbornness.

(“Megh, tumi toh amar against e thakish… ar keu holeo tumi na.”)

[“Megh, you too stand against me… of all people, you shouldn’t.”]

The red traffic signal blurred before his eyes for a moment. He shook his head, forcing himself back into the present, but her laughter — the way it used to bubble up between arguments — echoed inside his car louder than the honking outside.

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Back at home, Meghna pinned her saree’s aanchal, her fingers trembling slightly. She whispered to herself, almost as if answering a ghost from her past:

(“Shesh toh hoye gechhilo… keno abar mone porachhe?”)

[“It ended long ago… so why am I remembering it all again?”]

And on the road, Ayandeep exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath:

(“Ei toh just ekta meeting… tahole eto tension keno hochhe?”)

[“It’s just a meeting… then why does it feel so heavy?”]

Two different places. Two different routines. But the same memories, the same heartbeat, pulling them toward a first meeting that was anything but simple.

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so how was it I guess it was a little dull don't worry their first meeting will be exciting I can guess what you want, but I will help you to get what you want, readers can call you my bunny's cute isn't it

Love The Way love your partner they miss each other but remember the old wound maybe they were just teenagers when they got hurt they were heartbroken.

so stay tuned for my next episode of the first meeting how they will feel each other seeing and looking each others eyes by the time bye bye see you in the next episode do comment share and subscribe