Pevious chapters;
1. Chapter One – The Boy Everyone Knew, Yet No One Knew
2. The Weight of Responsibility
By the time Ajit finally shut down his computer, the sky outside had already turned grey with the last remnants of rain. He walked slowly toward the office canteen, his body craving tea more than food.
The canteen was alive, as always. A mix of evening snacks for those heading home and steaming plates for the night-shift crowd just starting their day. Laughter echoed from one corner, debates from another, the clatter of teacups and plates filling the rest. Ajit found his usual place near the back, away from the noise, and ordered a cup of tea.
That was when he heard it.
A voice—gentle yet full of life, threading through the chaos like music rising above the static. At first, he thought it was the radio. But no.
It was her.
She stood near the serving counter, surrounded by colleagues from another department. Her umbrella leaned against the wall, still dripping rainwater. Her bag hung loosely from her shoulder, patched and worn but carried with careless pride. And without meaning to, she had begun to sing.
Ajit watched her, caught off guard.
She didn’t sing for performance—her voice was too free for that. She sang as though the song belonged to her, as though every note was stitched into her soul. There was laughter in her tone, but also warmth, a strange kind of strength that no storm could wash away.
He noticed how she lit up her group—their tired faces turning into smiles, their shoulders loosening, their laughter echoing hers. She was not just a girl singing; she was light itself, spilling over everyone near her.
Ajit had read about people like this, people who carried their own sunshine, but he had never seen it in real life until now. She was full of life in a way that made the modest strap of her bag, the tired shoes on her feet, almost invisible. She carried no luxury, yet she carried abundance—the abundance of joy.
And Ajit sat frozen, his tea untouched, his heart caught between disbelief and awe.
When the song ended, the room burst into applause. She laughed, waved them off, her eyes sparkling as she teased, “Stop it! I’m not recording an album. I sing only for myself… and for my happiness.”
Ajit didn’t clap. He couldn’t. He only watched, silent, as though afraid that even a sound from him might break the fragile magic of the moment.
Ajit lowered his gaze, almost ashamed of how intently he had watched her. But something inside him stirred, as though she had reached into the quietest part of him and left a spark there.
“In dreams…” he whispered to himself, unseen, unheard. “…not mine.”
