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~ Sparks fly, as they first meet,

Words clash, and tempers heat,

A spoiled girl, he dares to say,

A mudhead, she retorts, in a fiery way.

A gesture meant, to show respect,

Becomes a spark, that ignites neglect,

Cultural lines, blurred and crossed,

Anger flares, and hearts are lost.

In secret, he calls her Songbird true,

A melody, that echoes anew,

Unaware, she labels him Baboon,

A private joke, beneath the moon.

Their eyes lock, in a fleeting glance,

Admiration mixed, with a dash of chance,

Their words may sting, but beneath the pain,

A hidden attraction, begins to gain.

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•

15th October 1899

Calcutta, Bengal

MATTHEW POV ~

Seeing the girl group, we greet them respectfully by bowing our heads slightly and they return the greeting with equal politeness.

My eyes widen as I recognize the girl among the group, who helped us navigate the town six months ago, during our first visit to India.

“Oh hey! It's you!!... Nice to meet you… it's been so long since we saw you” Marshall beams, looking at the girl and I nod my head in agreement, equally surprised.

I chuckle seeing other girls— who seem like her friends, glancing at her with confusion.

“It's you guys !… yeah, it's been so long… nice to meet you again” The same girl replies with a polite tone and smile.

It feels so good to see her again after all these months. Without her help, we would have been lost.

“Amru, do you know them !? How ???” One of the girls from the group asks the girl, who had helped us once, with curiosity and confusion.

“Oh … we met around 6 months back, and she helped us to navigate the town, since we were new !!” I say, on behalf of her. My tone carries happiness and respect.

My eyebrows frown a little, seeing the other girl turning to me with a tight smile, turning me puzzled.

“Is she okay?” I ponder to myself, glancing at my friends with confusion.

“Is your name AMRU??? No, right !? Then please let HER speak” the other girl says sharply, leaving me momentarily stunned and my eyebrows lift in disbelief as her sharp words cut through the conversation.

My mind went blank for a few seconds, not understanding what she just meant.

I glance at my friends in disbelief hearing them stifling their chuckles and I turn my face back to see her friends smiling nervously.

I scrunch my nose and my eyebrows, making a face of offence as realisation dawns on me.

“Hey ! That's not a respectable way to talk to someone you just met !!!” I rebuke, narrowing my eyes at her.

Her friends are trying to pull that girl back, by grabbing her wrist. All of her friends are looking nervous now, as if afraid of causing unwanted commotion.

“Then please enlighten me with YOUR respectable way to talk and greet the person whom we just met” That girl says with a grinning face, in a sarcastic tone.

I narrow my eyes at her more, now openly glaring at her while gritting my teeth, seeing her behaving this way.

“This spoiled child” I mutter under my breath, clenching my fist behind my back to stop myself from snapping at her, not wanting to cause any problems in others’ happiness which they're getting through this tour.

“I need to teach this spoiled child a lesson” I think, smirking as a mischievous idea forms in my brilliant brain.

“If she wants me to show her MY way of greeting people… then let's complete her small wish” I think to myself while smirking mischievously.

“Okay, it'll be my pleasure to teach you MY respectable way to greet people” I say, a faint smirk tugging at my lips.

I smile respectfully and walk in front of her, enjoying seeing her confused face.

“MISS!! MAY I HAVE A PLEASURE TO KNOW YOUR BEAUTIFUL NAME ?” I affirm, taking my one hand behind my back and one hand takes her right hand, raising up and I bend a little.

I respectfully wrap my fingers around her thin and soft fingers, feeling them cold to touch.

I plant a soft peck on her knuckles, my side lips tugs up in a faint smirk when I notice her subtle shiver.

I bite my lips to control my chortles seeing goosebumps rising in her forearms.

I straighten up and see her standing frozen as if she has been freezed.

Suddenly she jerks her hands out of my soft grip as if burned, after coming out of her shocked state.

Her eyes blaze with anger and glares at me with intensity.

She looks angry— very angry.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!!???” She snaps, her voice cutting through the chatter.

“What on earth made you do that? Don't you have any manners ?!!” She demands, her voice laced with anger and surprise.

I simply smirk, feigning innocence and I raise my hands in my defence, while Shrugging off.

“First, you asked for MY respectable way of greeting, which I gladly showed you. Second, I do have manners— that's why I bent down and pecked your knuckles as it's in our tradition. I assumed you’d know that our cultures are… very different. It's your fault, you didn't realize this. I fulfilled your wish and here you are accusing me ! Oh!! My poor soul !!!” I reply in my dramatic tone. I raise my hand to my chest as if I'm hurt by her wrong accusations.

I bite my lips to control my laugh, seeing her anger boiling more as she clenches her fists and glares at me as if she's going to fry me alive in the oil.

PAKHI POV ~

A sudden tingling spark ignites on my knuckles as I feel his warm lips brush over my cold skin.

My breath hitches as I watch the scene unfold. I feel cold shivers run down my spine, the fine hairs on my forearms standing at attention at the sudden foreign touch.

I feel like I'm frozen, unable to move, think or even utter a single word.

I have never felt this before, this sudden touch makes my heart flutter with an unfamiliar sweetness.

The soft warmth of the October sun does nothing to calm the flutter I feel inside my heart.

Lost in my own world, I see him straightening up with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Wait— did he just—?” I ponder to myself as the realization starts dawning upon my frozen brain.

My blood boils at his daring act, and I jerk my hand free from his gentle grip.

I glared at him, narrowing my eyes to show my anger.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!!?” I snap, not thinking who'll hear me and who'll not.

“What on earth made you do that? Don't you have any manners ?!!” I ask sternly, demanding the answers.

He smirks, raising his hands in defence while shrugging innocently.

“First, you asked for MY respectable way of greeting, which I gladly showed you. Second, I do have manners— that's why I bent down and pecked your knuckles as it's in our tradition. I assumed you’d know that our cultures are… very different. It's your fault, you didn't realize this. I fulfilled your wish and here you are accusing me ! Oh!! My poor soul !!!” He replies in a dramatic tone, raising his one hand to his chest as if he's hurt by my words.

As I open my mouth to retort, his words hit me and I close my mouth back, realising his words are mostly true.

I grit my teeth in annoyance, watching his melodrama.

I avert my eyes, shooting him a subtle glare, unsure how to respond.

Before the tension can escalate further, one of the boys from the group intervenes.

“Now, please follow us, ladies. First we’ll go to the grand hall where there are portraits of prominent figures of our University…” the same boy says with a respectful tone.

I sigh, glancing back at that spoiled Britisher. With a small smile, I nod my head and lean towards Kavita and Amrita.

“Certainly. Ladies, follow us, we will guide you all around the University” Another boy from the boy group says with the same respectable tone as the previous one.

“Looks like that mud-head is the only one with a bad tone” I think to myself, sneaking another glare at him.

“Well, thank you, mister, but looks like your friend is really in need of your guidance more than us” I say in a taunting tone, eyeing that arrogant mud-head.

I turn my head away with a faint smirk, fully aware of his burning glare on my back.

————-------------•°•°•°•--------------————

As I step into the grand hall, awe washes over me.

The walls and ceilings, adorned with intricate carvings, steal my breath away.

It feels like a castle—grand, untouchable, almost surreal. I tighten my fingers against my palms, grounding myself.

Massive portraits line the walls, their gilded frames glinting under the warm light. Each bears a name, a brief description—an immortalized legacy.

“These are the portraits of the prominent figures from Calcutta University, known for their remarkable achievements, bravery, intelligence…” a boy in the group explains, his voice reverent as he gestures toward the grand hall.

How soft-spoken a person he is— totally opposite of that mud-head.

Rolling my eyes, I steal a glance at him.

My eyes catch his blue eyes.

I jerk my head away, silently scolding myself “Why are you even looking at that mud-head?”

Sighing, I try to focus my attention on the portraits.

Yet, like an unwanted pull, my eyes betray me, flicking back to him. My fingers twitch against my saree.

His eyes— they’re like an ocean.

Deep, endless, like the ocean after a storm.

Drowning yet impossible to look away from.

Poetic— yet no words to describe its beauty.

I catch myself off guard, sensing myself having a small smile on my lips.

Snapping my head back to the portraits, I inhale sharply.

Focus, Pakhi. They’re just eyes.

Taking a sharp breath, I force myself to focus.

“What's happening with me?!” I hiss, shaking my head.

Did I just— admire him?!

No.

I didn't— right?

“I should focus on the portraits” I mutter under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Yet, his blue eyes linger in my mind.

MATTHEW POV ~

Stepping into the grand hall with Aditya and Marshall, I let my gaze wander.

The air is thick with the scent of polished wood.

Behind us, Rashid and Darsh trail along. Ahead, Aditya and Marshall stride forward, their chatter blending into the distant echo of footsteps on the marble floor.

My eyes land on that spoiled child. I resist the urge to roll my eyes—but fail.

“Spoiled and mannerless” I mutter under my breath, exhaling sharply as I rub my temples.

I inhale slowly, forcing air into my lungs, trying to tame the storm brewing inside me.

“Calm down, Matthew. Deep breaths…. Count to ten” I inhale deeply, closing my eyes, willing myself to rein in my frustration.

Halfway through counting, a prickling sensation creeps up my spine—someone’s watching me.

I turn sharply, and there she is—her gaze locked onto me, unreadable.

Frowning, I tilt my head, scrutinizing her. The moment our eyes meet, she jerks her head away, as if caught red-handed.

“What fresh insult is she cooking up in that little brain of hers?” I shake my head, biting back a sigh.

As I walk closer to the girls with Aditya and Marshall, I steal a quick glance at her.

Walking through the hall, we stop in front of the most unique and eye-catching portrait of Calcutta University.

Because, it isn't just a portrait.

It's a great story.

It stands out because it’s the only one featuring women—three of them, seated together, defying expectations.

“They were the first women at Calcutta University to achieve their B.A degrees in 1882, facing and overcoming immense gender discrimination” Marshall explains. “Later, Chandramukhi Basu became the first woman to earn an M.A form from the university in 1884”

The girls gazed at the portrait, their expressions full of admiration, as if absorbing every brushstroke of history.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I watch the girls' faces light up, captivated by these remarkable women.

While the girls marvel at the portrait, that familiar prickle of being watched crawls over me—again.

Somehow, I already know who it is.

The second I look up, she jerks her gaze away, pretending she wasn’t watching me at all.

I narrow my gaze, watching her form, unblinking, waiting.

“Is she planning something like revenge? Why does she keep looking at me?” I ponder, averting my eyes and turning my back to her.

Suspicious.

I shift my gaze to the glass window, catching her reflection.

As soon as she turns her head in my direction, a faint smirk tugs at my lips.

Unaware of my indirect gaze on her, she keeps looking at me, completely oblivious to the fact that I know.

Interesting.

Tilting my head, I smirk, watching the flicker of emotions dance across her reflection— hesitation, curiosity, and something she doesn't even realize she's showing.

How naive she is.

Blissfully unaware.

My poor little spoiled girl.

I lift a brow, locking onto her face through the glass.

“How tempting it is to catch this little thief staring at me without permission," I murmur with a grin, slowly turning. "But she'd only run scared.”

Without warning, I lift my gaze to her, catching her off guard.

Squirrel spotted!

I bite my lip to hide my bubbling chortles, when she snaps her head away from me at lightning speed.

A game of cat and mouse?

No... more like cat and songbird.

Let's see how long before my little songbird realizes she's already caught.

My butterfly in camouflage.

PAKHI POV ~

Did he catch me?!

My heart drops as my gaze flickers to the portraits, desperate for cover.

Why were you even looking at him?!

Great. Now face the consequences!

I clear my throat, forcing my eyes to dart anywhere but toward him.

Act normal.

Act normal.

Act normal.

Just a girl, standing in a grand hall, admiring the portraits.

Yep.

Totally normal.

Except for the fact that my entire body is stiff as a wooden doll, my pulse is tap-dancing.

Everything's normal.

Chanting the words, I slide away from him, to the farthest corner of our group.

The farther, the better.

Hoping for some distraction, God blesses me with one.

“What's our next stop after the grand hall?” Kavita asks, turning to the boys.

I sigh, relief washes over me as my prayer gets accepted.

But before a smile can even take shape, my body goes rigid. That voice. The one I absolutely cannot deal with right now.

“After the Grand hall, our next stop will be the Library,” The mud-head answers, his tone seeming respectful and polite.

I scoff internally, hearing his tone.

“Is he only a mud-head when it comes to me?” I mutter, watching him with the corner of my eyes.

Mud-head.

Idiot.

Mannerless.

Male witch.

Wait— did he say library?

My eyes fly open as realization strikes like a spark in my chest.

The library?

My fingers tighten around my saree as I turn to my friends, eyes shining.

“Can we all go to the library now? Please” I say, clutching my saree in my fingers, feeling energetic.

“Learn to walk step by step” The mud-head says, making me glare at him.

“Did I ask you?” I question, folding my arms over my chest.

“You didn't specifically forbid me to answer you either” He grins, raising his eyebrows.

I clench my fist, gritting my teeth, I narrow my eyes at him.

“Will you stop Matt!” One boy of the group says, stepping in between.

“Sorry for his behaviour” Another boy says, bowing his head a little to show respect.

“It's… it's okay” I say, pasting on a smile, waving my hand in a soft gesture.

“We shall go to the library, if you all want to visit the library fast” Another British boy says, gesturing his hand to us to follow him.

Sighing deeply, I close my eyes to focus on the library.

Mud-head.

I steal a glance at him and watch him grinning at me.

“Baboon” I mutter under my breath, following the other boys with my girls, through a corridor.

Not looking back, I sync my steps with my friends.

But, yet, my eyes betrayed me.

I steal a glance at him.

He’s still grinning, like he knows something I don’t.

My heart stutters—no, stops that!

Focus, Pakhi.

I force my gaze ahead, gripping my saree.

The library.

Just the library.

Not the baboon.

~ Your eyes hold me in like threads do in a cloth.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

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IMPORTANT NOTICE — I HAVE CHANGED ONE THING IN THE STORY, AND THAT IS PAKHI'S GRANDFATHER- ABHISHEK MUKHERJEE. HE'S NOT DEAD. HE'S ALIVE. IT'S VERY HARD FOR ME TO MAKE THIS STORY WITHOUT HIM. YOU'LL KNOW THE REASON IN MY SHORT STORIES SERIES "WHISPERS OF UNTOLD THREADS", BECAUSE IT'S A SECRET FOR NOW.

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