Kanishka was a professional overthinker. Late-night scrolling through Instagram was her therapy, and tonight, her obsession was Rohan—a 22-year-old idol with a smile that made her heart do somersaults.
“Just one message… it’s fine,” she muttered, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Her heart pounded.
Hey… I think you’re really cool 😅
She stared at the screen in horror. Why did I do this at 2 a.m.?
Then—Ding.
Rohan: Haha… thanks 😏 Didn’t expect this.
Kanishka’s jaw dropped. She texted her best friend, Zara:
"HE REPLIED. WHAT DO I DOOOO?"
Zara: “Breathe, girl. Play it cool.”
Too late. Kanishka had already sent a voice note. Seconds later, Rohan replied: “Love your energy 😏”
Her heart skipped. Then came the text that froze her blood:
Rohan: Can we video call? I feel like I already know you.
---
The next evening, Kanishka sat trembling, pajama top stained with coffee, cat on her lap. She tapped “Accept.”
Rohan appeared, leaning back, casual and flawless.
“Wow… I didn’t expect you’d look like this 😏”
“I… fine?” she stammered, panicking internally. The cat jumped on her keyboard. He laughed, low and warm.
“Are you always this chaotic?”
“No… only when I’m video calling a famous idol 😅”
He grinned: “You DM’d me at 2 a.m… dedication.”
Blushing, she admitted, “Maybe a little.”
“I like dedication,” he said, and her chest fluttered.
Then he dropped a bomb: “You live nearby… we should meet tomorrow.”
---
Next day. Park. 4:55 p.m. Heart pounding. Hoodie clutched like armor.
“You’re early,” he teased.
“I… like being punctual?”
“Good answer 😏”
They walked, talked, laughed. Rohan was surprisingly easy to talk to. But then… chaos.
A fan spotted him. “Rohan! Wait!”
Kanishka froze.
“Stay close,” he whispered, taking her hand, leading her behind a tree. His grip was firm, warm. Her heart fluttered uncontrollably.
---
Days passed. Late-night calls, park meetings, coffee runs. Every encounter was a mix of chaos and charm. But danger lingered—jealous fans, sneaky online attacks.
One evening, she opened her phone. A flood of messages:
"She’s a fake fan! Stay away from him!"
Rohan had already seen. Live chat: “Ignore them. I know real fans when I see them 😏”
Kanishka nearly fainted. Did he… defend me?
Later, privately: “Meet me at the park tomorrow at 5. Don’t be late 😏”
---
The next day, Kanishka arrived early, stomach fluttering. Rohan leaned casually against the same tree, coffee in hand.
“You’re early.”
“I… like being punctual.”
He smirked. “Good. I like that about you 😏”
They walked, sharing jokes, teasing each other. Kanishka laughed more than she had in months. He was funny, warm, and annoyingly charming.
Suddenly, another fan appeared. Kanishka panicked.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” Rohan said, holding her hand. Her heart skipped.
---
Weeks later, sitting on a park bench at sunset, Kanishka finally dared to ask:
“Why me? Of all the fans…”
Rohan turned serious. “Because you’re different. You’re not just a fan. You’re… you. And I like that.”
Her heart stuttered. No words. She leaned closer. He mirrored her. For a moment, nothing existed—no fans, no chaos, just them.
Then he smirked: “But don’t think I’m letting you off easily 😏”
“I… love it,” she whispered.
From a single DM, a chaotic, funny, flirty, heart-throbbing story began. Two hearts, reckless and racing, finding each other in a world full of noise.
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