The soft golden light of early morning filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. The faint aroma of freshly brewed chai wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the quiet hum of birds outside.

Aroohi stretched, yawning softly as she sat up on her bed. All the thoughts from last night still lingered in the back of her mind. Just then, the doorbell rang, sharp and cheerful.

"Shweta's here!" Aroohi called out, a smile tugging at her lips. She hurried to open the door, and there stood Shweta, balancing bags filled with gifts and a wide grin.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Shweta teased, stepping inside and dropping the bag on the floor. "Ready for our big day of fun and chaos?"

Aroohi laughed, stepping aside to let her in. "As ready as I'll ever be. You know, you're lucky I even let you come with me."

Shweta raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Hey! I'm the best company you could ask for. Besides, who else will keep you from turning the orphanage upside down?"

Aroohi smirked, grabbing her favourite kurti from the chair. "True. Plus, I need someone to handle the kids when they get hyper."

Aroohi stood before the mirror, holding up a bright yellow suit. "Do you think this colour is too much? I want something cheerful but not like a walking sunflower."

Shweta plopped down on the bed, rifling through the gift bags. "Honestly, anything looks good on you. You could wear a garbage bag and still pull it off."

Aroohi rolled her eyes but smiled. "Flatterer. What about you? What are you wearing under that jacket of yours?"

"Simple. Comfortable. No sunflower nonsense for me," Shweta grinned, pulling out a soft pink scarf.

"Hmmm, but I want to wear a suit. It's been a while since I wore one," she said in dilemma, looking at all the suits now lying on her bed. She grabbed her favourite light blue frock suit and went to the washroom to freshen up and change before she could change her mind again. After coming back inside the room, she put on her earrings and some bangles.

Seeing her all busy, Shweta grinned mischievously as Aroohi bent down to pick up her shoes from the cupboard. Without warning, Shweta playfully smacked Aroohi's ass.

"Hey!" Aroohi yelped, spinning around with wide eyes and a bright red blush flooding her cheeks.

Shweta laughed, hands on her hips. "What? Just making sure you're awake! You're way too serious this morning."

Aroohi scowled, trying to act annoyed but failing. "You're impossible."

"Maybe. But you love it," Shweta winked, stepping closer. "You know, with an ass like that, you should warn people—could cause a few accidents."

Aroohi's blush deepened as she crossed her arms, trying to keep a straight face. "Shut up! You're terrible."

"Terrible but truthful," Shweta teased with a sly smile.

Shweta sidled up close, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "If I were your boyfriend, I'd have to remind you every day just how lucky you are... especially with an ass like yours. I'd never let anyone else touch it."

Aroohi's cheeks flamed bright red as she shoved Shweta playfully. "Shut up! You're disgusting."

Shweta laughed, unbothered. "Disgusting? Maybe. But honest. And trust me, I'd be the one making you scream, not some stranger."

Aroohi's face turned even redder, eyes wide. "I swear, if you say another dirty thing, I'll—"

Shweta interrupted with a cheeky wink. "You'll what? Pretend you don't want it? Admit it, you're blushing because I'm right."

Aroohi groaned but couldn't stop the smile creeping on her lips. "You're impossible."

"But you love it," Shweta teased, nudging her gently. "Now hurry up before the kids start thinking we're playing hooky."

Just then, from the kitchen, their mother appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. Her warm eyes softened as she looked at her two daughters bustling around.

"Good morning, girls," she said, smiling. "I made some parathas for breakfast. You'll need your strength."

"Thanks, Ma," Aroohi said, pulling Shweta toward the kitchen. "You're a lifesaver."

Shweta winked. "See? Told you I was the perfect partner in crime."
After having their breakfast, they were both ready to leave for the orphanage.

As Aroohi leaned over the table to grab the gift bags, Shweta let out a low whistle.
"Girl," she said, eyes exaggeratedly scanning her from behind, "if you bend like that at the orphanage, the poor new volunteer might need CPR."

Aroohi spun around, blushing furiously. "Shweta!"

"What?" Shweta shrugged innocently. "I'm just looking out for public health. Those curves should come with a warning sign. 'Slippery when wet' sounds accurate enough—especially in this weather."

Aroohi covered her face with her hands, laughing despite herself. "You're the worst!"

"Correction," Shweta said, slinking up beside her, "I'm the best thing you never dated."

"I don't know what people will think if they heard us right now," Aroohi muttered, still pink.

Shweta smirked. "If I were a guy, you'd be mine already. I'd have you pinned against that wall by now, making you forget your name."

Aroohi gasped, swatting her arm. "Shweta! Stop talking, what are you onto today?"

Shweta just grinned wickedly. "What? Don't act like you're not curious. All innocent on the outside, but I bet a wild girl is hiding in there somewhere..."

Aroohi turned an even deeper shade of red. "I'm not even answering that."

"Exactly," Shweta winked. "Silence means I'm right."

Their mother chuckled at their daily banter, used to Shweta teasing Aroohi here and there, shaking her head. "Just remember to come back before dark, both of you. And don't forget your umbrellas — looks like rain later."

The girls exchanged excited glances.

"Rain or shine, right?" Aroohi said, pulling Shweta into a quick hug. "Today's going to be great."

Shweta nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Definitely. Let's make some memories."

"My lady, today, we are going on my bike, it's been a while since we had a ride on my baby", said Shweta with a suspicious smile.

Aroohi adjusted her dupatta awkwardly, climbing onto the bike behind Shweta. "Just drive slow, okay? You always take the speed bumps like you're in a damn action movie."

Shweta smirked over her shoulder. "I like the way you hold on tighter when I do."

Aroohi rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around Shweta's waist reluctantly. "That's not why, and you know it."

"Mmhm," Shweta hummed, revving the engine. "You keep saying that, but the way your hands just slid a little lower? Suspicious."

"Shweta!" Aroohi's voice went high, scandalized, but she didn't let go.

"Relax, baby," Shweta teased, voice dropping into a husky purr as the bike started moving. "You're riding with me — you're safe..."

Aroohi buried her face in Shweta's back, red as a tomato. "Stop it! There are children where we're going!"

Shweta laughed. "But honestly, the way you're clinging to me? If I didn't know better, I'd say someone's enjoying this ride a little too much."

Aroohi let out a strangled squeal. "Shweta! I will jump off this bike!"

Shweta laughed full-throated, unapologetically amused. "Relax, sweetheart. Just enjoy the wind in your hair courtesy of me."

And just like that, the bike zipped through the streets of the city and rolled to a stop just outside the orphanage gates, gravel crunching under the tires as the soft hum of laughter and distant bells rang from inside.

Aroohi exhaled sharply as Shweta killed the engine. "Thank God. We're here. Now, please—behave."

Shweta pulled off her helmet with a dramatic flip of her hair. "Oh, I always behave..." She leaned back, voice dripping with mischief, "My darling."

Aroohi swung her leg over the bike quickly, adjusting her clothes like they could hide the flaming blush on her cheeks. "One more comment, and I swear I'm walking back home."

But Shweta just winked, casually slinging her helmet onto the bike handle. "Now, shall we go inside?"

The iron gates creaked open, revealing the familiar courtyard of Asha's Orphanage. The smell of rain-damp earth mingled with the faint scent of soap and talcum powder — the scent of childhood, of memories preserved in chalk drawings and soft giggles.

As soon as Aroohi stepped in, a shrill little voice pierced the air.

"Diiiii!"

Tiny footsteps thundered toward her. A two-year-old girl, her pigtails bouncing and cheeks flushed, ran straight into Aroohi's legs.

Aroohi bent down immediately, arms open wide. "Meera!" she laughed, scooping the toddler up. "Did you miss me already, baby?"

The little girl nodded furiously and then clung to her neck like a koala. "You didn't come yesterday!"

Aroohi kissed her soft hair. "I know, Jaanu. I had college. But I brought gifts today!"

Meera squealed and clapped her tiny hands, tugging at Aroohi's dupatta. "No! You stay today!"

"I will, I will," Aroohi promised, eyes softening as the toddler nuzzled against her.

Sister Maria approached from inside, her weathered face lighting up. "Ah! Our angels are here. Aroohi, Shweta — I was hoping the rain wouldn't stop you."

"Rain can't stop us, Sister," Shweta grinned, handing her a box filled with notebooks and colouring books. "Santa came early this year."

Children began gathering around, curious eyes lighting up at the sight of gift bags and wrapped bundles.

Aroohi knelt beside them, pulling out candies, chocolates, dolls, building blocks, and puzzles. "Okay, one at a time! Everyone gets something — even you, Golu!"

The chubbiest boy in the group grinned toothily and hugged her.

Laughter rippled through the courtyard. Shweta ruffled a boy's hair, mock-glaring at him. "Rohan! Didn't I tell you not to grow taller than me? What are you eating?"

"Chocolates you gave me!" he giggled.

Aroohi's eyes fell on the new volunteer standing near the hallway, organizing supplies. He was tall, with kind eyes and a warm presence — a little awkward but sweet.

He stepped forward, holding a tray of juice packs. "Hey," he said with a smile. "Need help handing these out?"

"Sure," Aroohi replied, standing up with Meera still in her arms. "You're the new volunteer?"

He nodded. "Rishi. Started just last week."

"Well, Rishi," she said with a soft smile, "get ready to be climbed like a tree and covered in stickers."

He chuckled, handing her a juice box. "I'm up for the challenge."

Shweta slid over, whispering in Aroohi's ear, "He's cute. He has a smile that says he believes in fairy tales."

Aroohi elbowed her playfully but didn't deny the small smile tugging at her lips.

All around them, the courtyard bloomed with joy — giggles, squeals, messy hands, and paint-smeared fingers. It was all warmth and colour.

The orphanage had always felt like a separate world. Time slowed here, not out of boredom, but comfort. The cream-painted walls were chipped in places, but they were adorned with handprints in every shade of colour, tiny signatures of the dozens of children who called this place home. A small chalkboard near the entrance read "Today's Good Deed: Make someone smile."

Aroohi carried Meera on her hip as she walked past the dining hall, which smelled faintly of boiled rice and sandalwood incense. Her duppatta was already crumpled, sticky from one child's chocolate-stained fingers and another's enthusiastic hug.

Sister Grace, the head nun, approached with her usual soft scolding. "Aroohi, child, you spoil them too much. Every week, you come bearing toys like it's Christmas."

"They deserve it, Sister," Aroohi said, smiling. "And besides, it's Shweta's fault. She's the one who went over budget again."

"Hey!" Shweta called from behind, arms full of wrapped gifts. "I dare you to try and tell Golu he can't have his fifth dinosaur."

Golu was already tearing into his new green T-Rex, roaring like he was in Jurassic Park.

"RAAAWWRRRR!" he bellowed, making two younger kids run in mock terror.

Rishi — the new volunteer — chuckled from the reading corner. He was helping a group of five-year-olds paste glitter onto construction paper. "Okay, glitter stays on the table, people. Not on me. Not on your face. Not on the cat."

Aroohi leaned over his shoulder, watching the mess unfold. "Wow, you're brave. Glitter is herpes for arts and crafts. It never goes away."

He laughed, brushing some off his shirt. "Noted. Next time, I'll bring armour."

"You're settling in well, though," she said softly, glancing at how gently he spoke to the kids.

"Trying to," he said, eyes warm. "They make it easy."

Meanwhile, Shweta had broken into full teacher mode, sitting cross-legged with a gang of girls trying to braid her hair. "Ow—hey! Not that tight! I said princess braid, not 'warrior going to battle' braid!"

Aroohi took the chance to kneel beside a small boy who sat apart from the group, scribbling quietly in a corner. His name tag read Arun. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you drawing?"

He hesitated, then turned the page slightly. A woman in a blue dress, holding a child's hand under the sun. "That's... you," he mumbled.

Aroohi's heart clenched. She touched his head gently. "It's beautiful, Arun. Thank you."

Meera, still hanging onto her shoulder, tugged at Aroohi's earring and whispered, "You be my mamma?"

Aroohi kissed her soft cheek, a lump rising in her throat. "Always."

One of the orphanage sisters, Sister Mary, watched with a gentle smile. "You girls always bring such happiness. The kids look forward to your visits."

Aroohi glanced over, returning the warm smile. "It's their smiles that make it all worthwhile, Sister Mary."

A little girl tugged at Aroohi's sleeve, her voice soft but hopeful. "Didi, when will you come again? Can you bring more books?"

Aroohi's eyes softened. "Soon, sweetie. I promise."

Rishi, standing quietly nearby, knelt beside a shy boy clutching a small wooden toy. "Would you like to play a game with this?" he asked gently. The boy nodded, eyes wide with surprise and delight.

Shweta turned to Aroohi with a teasing grin. "Hey, looks like we've got some competition for your attention."

Aroohi laughed softly. "Rishi is just charming the kids. But we all know who Meera loves most." She winked at the toddler, who giggled and clung tighter.

Suddenly, a boy ran up, holding a brightly wrapped package. "Didi! This is for you!"

Aroohi took the gift, surprised and touched. "Thank you so much!"

Sister Mary chuckled, "See? You're part of the family here."

The children's chatter filled the air — stories of their day, questions about the world outside, and laughter that bubbled like a joyful river.

"Can you teach me how to draw a butterfly?" a little girl asked Shweta, holding out her blank paper.

"Of course," Shweta said, pulling out a crayon and showing her simple strokes. "See? Just like this."

Aroohi joined in, "And don't forget, butterflies start as tiny caterpillars. They remind us that change can be beautiful."

A hush fell for a moment as the children absorbed the words, their faces thoughtful and wide-eyed.

As the afternoon edged toward evening, the warmth between everyone felt like a gentle hug — a reminder that even in hardship, love and kindness could bloom endlessly.

As the children scattered in small groups, Rishi approached Aroohi quietly, holding a stack of storybooks. "You're good with them," he said, offering a gentle smile.

Aroohi glanced up, a bit surprised but pleased. "Thank you. They remind me to find joy in the little things."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I've only been here a few days, but it feels... different. Like this place has its heartbeat."

She smiled softly. "It does. It's chaotic, messy, but full of hope."

Rishi handed her a book from his stack. "Here — maybe you can read this to Meera? She seems to follow you everywhere."

Aroohi laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "She's a little shadow, isn't she? But I don't mind."

"Do you think they'll remember us?"Rishi asked quietly, "The volunteers who come and go."

Aroohi considered for a moment. "I hope they remember that someone cared — even if only for a little while."

He smiled, impressed by her gentle sincerity. "You have a way with words."

She gave a small shrug, playful now. "Maybe I'm just good at pretending I know what I'm doing."

Rishi chuckled. "I think you're better at it than you realize."

They shared a moment of quiet camaraderie before a sudden burst of laughter from the children pulled their attention back.

"Come on," Aroohi said, holding out her hand. "Let's join them before they start a water fight.

Outside, the sky had already begun to darken. The wind carried the scent of coming rain, and the clouds gathered above like secrets ready to spill.

The first droplet fell like a kiss on the stone courtyard. Then came another, and another, until the sky opened up in a soft, silver curtain of summer rain.

"RAIN!" Rohan screamed, leaping up mid-colouring and running barefoot to the open yard.

Meera shrieked in delight and squirmed in Aroohi's arms. "Rain! Rain! Go-go-go!"

Aroohi laughed as she put her down, watching the kids flood into the courtyard like wild ducklings. Tiny feet splashed into puddles. Dresses swirled. Laughter echoed.

"Shoes off!" Shweta called. "Or suffer wet socks forever!"

Aroohi slipped her flats off and rolled up her leggings. Her frock — pale blue with tiny white stones — was already sticking to her skin from the mist. She ran into the courtyard after the kids, the hem of her frock flying, the rain matting her hair down her back.

A girl grabbed her hand. Then another. And suddenly Aroohi was spinning, dancing in a circle of children. Her arms stretched out, her head thrown back in laughter.

Rishi stood at the doorway, holding a towel and smiling, but didn't move.

Shweta joined in a minute later, grabbing a handful of soaked mud and threatening the boys like she was in a cricket match. "I swear if anyone throws that, I will throw you!"

Golu did it anyway. Chaos ensued.

In the middle of it all — soaked, radiant, completely unaware — was Aroohi.

Her laugh broke through the thunder, light and wild. Her hair clung to her face, and raindrops glittered on her lashes. A little boy tugged her hand, and she bent down, twirling him around like a dancer.

While the children and the girls were having a blast in the rain, unknowingly, two pair of eyes were capturing all their moments.

Rajbeer Singh Ahluwalia POV:

Rajbeer stood under the canopy of the construction site next door. He had come to check the foundation of the site and was done with his work earlier than expected, and now he was waiting for his driver to bring the car. He heard the unmistakable sound of children's laughter carried on the breeze.

Drawn by curiosity — or something deeper — he walked to the low boundary wall. And that's when he saw her.

She wasn't posing. She wasn't aware. She was just... alive.

The girl in the rain.

Drenched. Glowing. Laughing like she belonged to the sky.

His breath hitched — something deep and primal catching in his throat. The children danced around her, but his eyes saw only her. The shape of her smile. The curve of her waist beneath the soaked fabric. The unguarded affection in the way she wiped a child's face with her dupatta.

He didn't blink.

It wasn't just an attraction — it was something else. Possession. Recognition.

Like watching the kind of woman who could ruin you... Or rebuild you from scratch.

Then, a moment that changed something in him.

She picked up a tiny girl, kissed her cheek, and spun with her, both of them laughing wildly, arms stretched out to the gray sky. A child in her arms. Water was dripping from their faces.

Rajbeer's fingers curled into fists.

Rain still fell, but he no longer noticed the wetness.

He should've turned back. Should've walked into the site office instead of standing here and looking at her.

But he didn't.

His eyes stayed fixed on her — the girl twirling with a child in her arms, spinning like she was made of music and monsoon.

Something stirred inside him. Something hot, unsettling. It wasn't just lust, though God, the way her wet kurta clung to her curves was a torment of its own. But it was more than her body. It was her vision of her. This wild-hearted woman was laughing in the rain, water cascading down her throat, droplets catching on her lashes, arms wrapped around a little girl like she was born for that love.

She'd make a good mother.
She'd look even better pressed against my chest with my child growing inside her.
What the fuck—

He blinked hard. Where had that thought come from?

And yet... it didn't leave.

His mind spun darker now. Imagining her not with the kids but with him. Not smiling so freely — but breathless, lips parted, tangled in his sheets. That innocent mouth begging for things she shouldn't know yet. That delicate voice screaming his name instead of a child's.

He exhaled roughly, jaw clenched, staring like he couldn't look away.

Who is she? Why the hell do I care?

But it was too late.

He was hooked.

Something primal coiled low in his belly. Possessive. Starved. She didn't even see him yet, and still, he felt an invisible thread snap tight between them.

His fingers twitched.

He wanted to know her name. Her address. Her dreams. Her fears.

He wanted her soft and pliant under him, but also wild and unbroken — just like she was now in the rain.

Most of all...

He didn't want anyone else to look at her that way.

Just then, his driver came with his car and parked near him. The driver rushed towards the boss, holding the umbrella for him.
It was enough to snap him out of his reverie, one last glance towards her, and then he left from there.

Unknown to him, a pair of eyes followed his car till it disappeared into the night.

Anonymous Stalker's POV:

The rain washed over her, but it couldn't cleanse the fire he felt burning beneath his skin — a fire that clawed at his mind, relentless and savage.

Her silhouette, soaked and shimmering, was seared into his vision like a forbidden flame he could never touch but would never stop craving.

He imagined the slick fabric clinging to every curve — the swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath, the soft hollow at the nape of her neck glowing beneath the storm's tears.

His fingers twitched with need, aching to close the distance — to grip her waist, to pull her close until the heat of their bodies became one, unbearable and intoxicating.

Her laughter, sweet and careless, sliced through him like a razor — a reminder that she was unaware, untouched, and infinitely desirable.

He fantasized about silencing that laughter with bruising kisses, his mouth claiming hers, rough and demanding.

Her skin under his lips would be warm and slick, her breath hitching as he traced patterns of possession down her throat and collarbone.

But it wasn't just the physical craving.

It was the maddening knowledge that she belonged to him alone — that no one else could hold her the way he would.

Every tender moment she shared with the children twisted the knife deeper, feeding a dark hunger that was equal parts adoration and madness.

Only I can see her truly.

Only I know what she needs.

His mind spiralled — vivid, unrelenting fantasies where she was stripped bare before him, not just in body but in spirit, tethered to him with chains forged from obsession and need.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, movement.

A figure watching from a distance — eyes not on him, but on her.

A man.

Tall. Confident.

Intruding on something sacred.

The stalker's blood turned cold.

Who the fuck is he?

His grip tightened, nails scraping skin until the pain grounded him.

This wasn't just about desire anymore.

It was war.

He stepped back into the shadow, breathing slowly but venomously.

The man didn't know it yet, but he was trespassing.

And trespassers didn't leave unscathed.

She's mine.
_______________________________
Update is here,
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What was your favourite part??

How is your relationship with your best friend?

Any funny moments?

Are you even best friends if people don't tag you as "lesbians"?

What will happen next??
Who will reach Aroohi first- Stalker or Rajbeer??

Enjoy reading till then Toodles😎😎😎