When Worlds Begin to Collide

The late afternoon sun poured golden light across Rishikesh, turning the city’s temples and rooftops into silhouettes of amber and bronze. At the small Dubey household, the scent of fresh marigold flowers and turmeric floated through the air, hinting at the excitement stirring inside.

Pihu adjusted the creases of her kurti absentmindedly as she packed her books into her worn-out satchel. Her semester project was due in a few weeks, but her heart wasn’t in her studies today.

She could sense it — change, shifting like a low hum beneath her skin.

Her mother’s voice rang out from the courtyard, interrupting her thoughts.
"Pihu! Papa’s back early!"

Curious, Pihu dropped her satchel on the bed and hurried outside. Her father, Mukesh Dubey, stood at the gate, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. His face was flushed — not from heat, but from excitement.

"What happened, Papa?" she asked, smiling.

Mukesh’s eyes twinkled as he tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. "Big responsibility, bitiya. Mr. Randhawa has entrusted me to organize a major event at the estate — a gala for international investors!"

Sunita emerged from the kitchen, her hands dusted with flour. "Arre wah! Congratulations, ji!"

Mukesh grinned, pride swelling in his chest. "It’s a big opportunity. Everything needs to be flawless — the catering, the music, the decor. Mr. Randhawa said he trusts no one else but me."

Pihu clapped her hands together, genuinely happy for her father.
"You deserve it, Papa. No one could manage it better than you."

Mukesh chuckled, pulling her into a side hug. "You’ll help me, won’t you? We’ll need extra hands. Aashi too."

"Of course," Pihu said without hesitation.

Helping her father was second nature — something she would have done anyway.
What she didn’t anticipate, however, was how destiny often hid its sharpest thorns beneath promises of simple joys.

The following days blurred into a whirl of preparations.

Pihu found herself at the Randhawa estate more often than she cared to admit — supervising flower arrangements, coordinating with caterers, even helping set up guest lists on the sprawling lawns where the event would take place.

She moved quietly through the halls of marble and gold, her presence as unnoticed as a passing breeze. She was careful to stay out of sight, to keep to the shadows, away from the people who moved in glittering clusters, laughing too loudly and judging too quickly.

And, most importantly, she stayed away from him.

Akash Randhawa.

The name alone was enough to send a tremor through her carefully built calm.

She hadn’t seen him — yet.
Only heard his voice, once or twice, issuing clipped instructions to staff from some distant corridor.
It was enough to set her heart racing and her stomach twisting in knots she thought she had long untangled.

But she held her ground.
Because she wasn’t the girl she had been that night — the one who had stood trembling under the rain, offering her heart only to have it shattered.
She was stronger now.
She had to be.

The day of the gala arrived wrapped in promise and tension.

The Randhawa estate glittered like a jewel under the evening sky — fairy lights draped across terraces, floral arrangements cascading from balconies, chandeliers blazing with warm light.

Luxury cars purred into the driveway, depositing men and women wrapped in silk, satin, and diamonds. Laughter spilled into the air like champagne.

Pihu moved among the crowd with a clipboard clutched tightly to her chest, her simple lavender salwar kameez a stark contrast to the gowns swirling around her.
She kept her head down, focused on her tasks — checking seating charts, confirming menu items with the caterers, ensuring the musicians were ready.

She was near the main entrance, scanning the final checklist, when a ripple of whispers cut through the air like a current.

Heads turned.
Eyes widened.
Phones lifted discreetly for pictures.

Pihu didn’t need to look to know.
She felt it.
A gravitational shift in the room.

Akash Randhawa had arrived.

Dressed in a tailored black tuxedo that fit him like second skin, Akash moved through the crowd with effortless arrogance, a glass of wine in hand, his expression cool and unreadable.

People flocked to him — investors, socialites, daughters of business tycoons. He smiled politely, nodded at the right times, but his eyes remained detached, distant.

And for one agonizing heartbeat, those eyes locked onto Pihu.

It was a fleeting moment — a second stretched into eternity.
But she felt it like a brand against her skin.

His gaze swept over her — not lingering, not softening.
Recognition flickered, cold and dismissive.

A ghost of a smirk curved his lips before he turned away, already forgetting her existence.

Pihu clenched the clipboard tighter, her nails biting into the hard plastic.

It shouldn’t hurt.
Not after all this time.
Not after all the walls she had built around her heart.

But it did.
It always did.

Hours passed.

The gala unfolded in a symphony of music, clinking glasses, and murmured deals.

Mukesh Dubey, radiant with pride, bustled about ensuring every guest was satisfied.
Sunita and Aashi handled smaller tasks, their faces glowing with excitement.

Pihu moved like a silent caretaker, fixing problems before they even surfaced. She carried herself with dignity, even when a few of the elite guests threw her curious, judgmental glances.

As she crossed the lawn to coordinate the serving of desserts, she collided sharply into a solid chest.

Pihu gasped, stepping back instinctively — only to find herself face to face with Akash.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Akash arched an eyebrow lazily, his gaze flickering from her clipboard to her flushed face.
"You should watch where you’re going," he said, his voice low, edged with amusement.

Pihu swallowed hard, willing her hands not to tremble.
"I’m sorry, sir," she said formally, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

He smirked — that same infuriating, cruel smirk.
"Still playing the perfect little employee, are we?"

The words hit harder than they should have.
But Pihu stood her ground.
She had learned, painfully, that pride was a fragile thing.
And tonight, she refused to let hers be broken.

"I’m here to work," she said evenly. "Not to seek your approval."

Something flickered in Akash’s eyes — surprise, maybe.
Or was it irritation?
He opened his mouth as if to retort but was interrupted by a group of guests calling his name.

Without another glance at her, he turned and walked away, laughter echoing in his wake.

Pihu stood rooted for a moment, heart hammering.
Then she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and plunged back into her work.

She was here for her father.
For her family.
For herself.

Not for him.
Never again for him.

Much later, when the last guest had departed, and the lights began to dim, Pihu found herself standing alone at the edge of the estate’s gardens.

The Ganges glistened in the distance, a silver ribbon under the starlit sky.

She closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over her.

"Not your world, Pihu," she whispered to herself.
"Never was. Never will be."

But somewhere deep inside, a tiny voice whispered back —
Then build your own world.

And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe it might be possible.