Chapter 3: A Familiar Stranger

The next morning, Meera Sharma had completely written off the mysterious, no-change-carrying, sunglasses-wearing stranger from yesterday.

In her mind, he was just another rich, lost man passing through her world — and she had neither the time nor the patience for people like that.

Her day began as usual. Open shop. Scold Chintu for trying to eat cookies before breakfast. Brew a large cup of chai for Ramesh Chacha.

Business was slow in the mornings, which suited Meera fine. She could read in peace or argue with Chintu about why he couldn’t have a pet monkey.

Across the city, however, things were anything but peaceful.

Aarav Malhotra sat in his sprawling office at the CM residence, his face buried in files, his head pounding with the relentless complaints of ministers, journalists, and party members.

Lakhan Singh stood stiffly nearby, his mustache twitching in irritation.

“Sir, yesterday was… reckless,” Lakhan grumbled. “Do you realize the trouble you caused?”

Aarav waved a hand. “Yes, yes. I’ll apologize to the universe later. Right now, I need fresh air.”

Lakhan’s face turned the color of undercooked dal.

“Sir, no. No more secret outings. No more ditching security. And no more random bookstores!”

Aarav grinned. “Relax. I’m just going for a quick drive. No bookstore this time.”

And before anyone could stop him, Aarav was out the door.

Later that afternoon, on a busy Jaipur street

Meera was on her way to deliver some books to an old customer when she heard the unmistakable sound of screeching tires and angry shouting.

A small crowd had gathered ahead, and Meera’s curiosity, always a troublemaker, dragged her toward it.

What she saw made her heart skip a beat.

There, amidst a chaotic tangle of autorickshaws and angry street vendors, was the same sunglasses guy from yesterday — Aarav — cornered by two thugs.

“Give us your wallet, boss. No drama,” one of them growled.

Aarav, looking impressively annoyed for a man being mugged, sighed. “Look, I really don’t have time for this. Can we reschedule?”

The thug raised a stick.

Meera didn’t think twice.

“Oi!” she yelled, marching forward.

The crowd parted as Meera stormed through like an avenging goddess, armed with nothing but a grocery bag and an attitude.

“What’s going on here?”

The thugs hesitated.

“This fellow was bothering us, Didi,” one of them lied.

“Bothering you? He looks like he can barely find his way to a bus stop!”

Aarav smirked. “Nice to see you too, Jhansi ki Rani.”

The thug glared at Meera. “Mind your business, Didi.”

“Oh, it’s very much my business now,” Meera shot back, pulling out her phone. “Should I call the police or should we post your ugly faces on Facebook Live first?”

The threat worked like magic. The two goons mumbled curses and disappeared into the crowd.

The spectators, bored by the lack of bloodshed, wandered off.

Meera turned to Aarav, hands on hips.

“What is wrong with you? Are you some sort of trouble magnet?”

Aarav shrugged, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“You really need a GPS. And maybe pepper spray.”

“I was handling it.”

“Yeah, I saw. You were about to lecture them to death.”

Aarav laughed. He liked this girl more every minute.

“I owe you one… again,” he admitted.

“You owe me a lot more than that,” Meera grumbled. “A hundred rupees for the book discount, a decent coffee, and an explanation.”

Aarav sighed. “Okay, fine. Coffee now?”

“Forget it. I’m busy. But you owe me, Mister Mysterious.”

“Can I at least walk you home as a thank you?”

Meera narrowed her eyes. “I don’t take favors from men who attract street fights.”

“Then consider it me protecting you in case those thugs come back.”

Meera couldn’t help it — she smiled. “Fine. But one wrong word, and I’m calling your mother.”

Aarav chuckled, falling into step beside her.

As they walked through the bustling streets of Jaipur, dodging cows, cycle rickshaws, and overenthusiastic bangle sellers, Aarav felt something he hadn’t in years.

A strange, light, heart-thumping happiness.

He glanced at Meera, animatedly arguing with a shopkeeper about overcharging for lemons, and thought — God, she’s trouble. And I’m in so much deeper than I planned.

...****************...

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