Unveil the Other Side

Rain poured softly the day Krishna first saw Purvi—draped in yellow, lighting incense at the Ganapati pandal. Their eyes met like a prayer answered. Thunder rolled, but all he heard was her laughter. From borrowed umbrellas to shared street-side chai, their story bloomed. Every rain after felt like a song only they understood. When they wed under cloudy skies, even the priest smiled, “Blessed by Bappa Himself.” Years passed, but every drizzle pulled them back to that pandal, that glance, that moment. Love, like rain, sometimes arrives quietly—soaking deep, leaving music in its wake. Krishna and Purvi were always meant to be.

 Shravya, a young girl from Bangalore, was living a new life in Mumbai’s bustling Seepz, Andheri. It was the early 2000s, and her first job, fresh out of college, had brought her here. Away from home, she embraced the thrill of independence, juggling work deadlines and weekend outings with her newfound friends. The city taught her to manage money, from budgeting her modest salary to savoring street-side vada pavs. Each day was a lesson in self-reliance, and her tiny rented apartment became her sanctuary. Shravya was no longer just a girl from Bangalore—she was shaping into a confident, independent woman.

It was pure love. She couldn't resist being away for so long. The daily visits had turned into a friendship that created a feeling of wanting more. She was lured and her fantasy grew far beyond. It was a cold night. Christmas wasn't far , roads were covered in snow, twinkling lights on the trees shining all night, the path cleared by the mover. She could see you standing tall and inviting. Being stuck at home, she was waiting to run into you - of course you MC Donalds double cheese burger that she'd been craving for the whole of last week. 

She was fidgeting her saree nervously. Having been through this process many times now and getting rejected every time, made her weak and dejected. Ramprasad was tired of searching a groom for his only daughter. Several men walked out on her for the reason she wasn’t a beauty material. Now that a prospect was sitting across the table sipping the hot coffee served by Vyjayanthi, there was only one thing she was hoping for - A "Yes". Tears rolled down her cheeks as Narayan accepted Vyjayanthi for what she was - a simple, loving and caring human being. Rituals followed!

She crashed down, the receiver still in the proximity of her ear. There was a constant "Hello! Priya you ok?" heard on the phone to which Priya's response was cold. She had not believed her colleagues who spoke ill about her husband. Neither did she bother when she found the torn couple tickets of a current movie that she had longed to go watch with her husband coming weekend. It was 11:45 PM and Dev had not returned home yet. Priya called on his mobile only to hear a lady responding "Mrs. Dev speaking, may I know who is calling?"...

There she lies on bed reading the thriller she'd borrowed from Mrs. Iyer living next door. Her gaze stuck to the mid pages, Krupa was completely engrossed in the chapter "Theft". Dwaraki returned from work early that evening. There was no response from Krupa in spite of numerous door bells.  He opened the window of drawing room, tried to get the spare keys that lay on the table, by stretching his hands. There was a sudden shriek of a known voice. That's when Krupa realized her folly. Dwaraki was discharged a week later after his forelimbs were back to normal. Cent Stories: I have seen people writing Fiction 55's and similar short stories with fixed minimum words. So in the same lines cent stories are those with an exact 100 words. This is the first one. There will be more coming.