Happy reading!

Ruhi Misra is getting introduced here.
…

The last note hung in the air like a suspended breath.

Riaan stood frozen at the doorway, his heart hammering so loudly he was certain she could hear it. The girl's fingers hovered above the keys, the final chord still vibrating through the room. Sunlight streamed through the window behind her, catching the dust motes dancing in the air and turning them into tiny stars.

She was beautiful.

Not in the conventional way, not like the perfectly curated women his mother tried to set him up with. She was beautiful in a raw, unpolished way. Her hair was slightly tangled from the breeze, her crop top revealing a sliver of her midriff, her jeans worn and comfortable. There were no pretenses here. No masks.

Just her.

And then she opened her eyes.

Riaan's breath caught as her gaze found him instantly, like she'd known he was there all along. Her dark eyes, the same eyes that had been swollen with tears just yesterday, narrowed with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Her fingers stilled on the keys.

The music stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Riaan couldn't move. Couldn't speak. His feet felt rooted to the floor, his voice trapped somewhere in his throat. He was a doctor, he'd faced emergencies, blood, death but this one girl had reduced him to a statue.

She rose from the piano bench slowly, her movements fluid and deliberate. She walked toward him, each step measured, and Riaan's pulse quickened with every inch she closed. When she reached the door, she leaned against the frame, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Who are you?" Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. A warning. "Is it your habit to peek inside strangers' rooms?"

"N-no." The word came out as a stammer, and Riaan inwardly cringed. He was twenty-six years old, a junior doctor with a promising career, and he was stammering like a teenager caught sneaking out. "I'm a doctor. I came here to take the emergency case."

Her frown deepened. "Emergency case?"

"An old woman," Riaan clarified, finally finding his voice. "She had a mild stroke. My senior doctor checked her. She'll be fine."

Something flickered in her eyes, relief, perhaps, or gratitude. But her expression remained guarded, her arms still crossed. "And that gives you permission to wander into private rooms?"

"I-I'm sorry." Riaan ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. "I heard your music from downstairs. It was..." He paused, searching for the right word. "It was Amazing. Really amazing."

Her frown faltered.

For a moment, she looked almost caught off guard, like compliments were foreign territory. Then her face softened into something more neutral, a polite, distant peace that didn't quite reach her eyes.

She turned away from him, walking to the small table beside the piano. Riaan watched her pick up a slip of paper, a ticket, he realized. She held it out to him.

"You know Ronnie Chatterjee?"

Riaan blinked at the unexpected question. "Everyone knows Ronnie Chatterjee. He's one of the biggest singers in the country."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Tonight. 7:00 PM. His concert at the Kamani Auditorium." She placed the ticket in his hand, her fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. "I'll be playing the piano for his music. You can come there if you want to listen properly. This is just my private practice place. I don't like people peeking in."

Riaan stared down at the ticket in his palm. It was a VIP pass, he noticed, with Ronnie Chatterjee's face emblazoned across the front. And in the corner, in elegant calligraphy, a single name: Ruhi Misra.

Ruhi.

Her name was Ruhi.

"I-I will." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "Come there, I mean. I'll come. Thank you."

She gave him a small smile, just a brief, fleeting curve of her lips and then she turned and walked away. Her footsteps echoed down the staircase, fading into the sounds of children laughing and playing below.

Riaan stood there, alone in the doorway, clutching the ticket like it was made of glass.

He didn't know why he'd said yes. He had a hundred things to do, a thousand responsibilities pulling him in every direction. But none of that mattered right now.

All that mattered was the smile she'd given him at the end.

It was barely there, polite, distant, a mask she'd put on for a stranger. But it had stayed with him. It had burrowed under his skin and taken root in his chest, and he couldn't explain why.

He looked down at the ticket again.

"Ruhi Misra." He said her name softly, tasting it on his tongue.

And for the first time in years, Riaan Talwar felt something other than emptiness.

⁞⁞⁞⁞

Riaan descended the stairs slowly, the ticket still clutched in his hand like a lifeline. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion, Ruhi Misra, the piano, that small smile she'd given him. He barely registered the corridor, the children running past him, the warmth of the orphanage.

"Riaan! Let's go! It's time!" Dr. Sharma's voice snapped him back to reality. His team was gathering near the entrance, ready to head back to the hospital. Riaan nodded, shoving the ticket into his pocket, and started walking toward them.

And then he heard it.

"Ruhi." The name came from the old woman they'd just treated. The patient. She was sitting up now, her face brighter, her eyes searching the room with a kind of desperate hope.

Riaan went still.

His feet refused to move. He watched as Ruhi appeared from the staircase, her expression shifting from guarded to warm in an instant. She walked toward the old woman with a genuine smile, the kind that reached her eyes and sat beside her, taking her wrinkled hands in her own.

"Main yahi hoon, Dadiji," Ruhi said softly.

(I'm here, Grandma.)

The old woman's face lit up. "Beta, the doctors said I'll be fine."

"Of course you'll be fine. You'll have to be fine. You're my favourite person in this whole world." Ruhi leaned in, pressing a kiss to the woman's forehead. "Now rest, okay? I'll bring you your favourite kheer tonight."

The scene was so intimate, so tender, that Riaan felt like an intruder. This wasn't the cold, composed girl from the hospital. This wasn't the guarded woman who'd questioned him at the piano. This was someone else entirely, someone soft, someone loving, someone who clearly cared deeply for the people around her.

Dr. Sharma cleared his throat. "Riaan, we really need to leave."

Riaan tore his gaze away from Ruhi. "Right. Yes. Coming."

He glanced back one more time as he walked toward the exit. Ruhi was laughing now, the old woman saying something that had her throwing her head back in genuine amusement. The sound of her laughter carried through the corridor like music—even more beautiful than the piano.

Riaan walked out of the orphanage, but Ruhi stayed with him.

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Riaan went through the motions, checked patients, reviewed reports, attended a brief meeting but his mind was elsewhere. He kept glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until 7 PM.

6 hours. 4 hours. 2 hours.

His colleague, Dr. Samarth Bhatia, cornered him just as he was about to leave.

"Hey, Riaan! Come on, it's my birthday." Samarth grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "We're going to that new lounge in Connaught Place. Party's on me. You need to come."

Riaan barely looked up from his bag. "Sorry... I'm busy."

"Busy?" Samarth's eyebrows shot up. "Riaan, you're never busy. You just go home and sleep. Come on, man. One night—"

"I really can't tonight." Riaan zipped his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Some other time, okay?"

He walked away quickly, leaving Samarth and the other doctors staring after him like he'd just committed a crime. Because he had. Riaan Talwar never refused plans. He never had anything better to do. He was the reliable one, the predictable one, the one who always showed up.

But tonight, he had somewhere else to be.

It was 6:30 PM when Riaan entered the Kamani Auditorium.

The venue was already buzzing with energy, crowds of people streaming through the grand entrance, the air thick with anticipation.

Riaan had never been to a concert before. He'd never had the time, the interest, or the inclination. Music had always been background noise to him, something that existed but never touched him.

But tonight was different.
Tonight, he was looking for someone.

He found his seat in the VIP section, a plush red chair with an unobstructed view of the stage. The ticket Ruhi had given him was front-row centre, and he realized with a jolt that she must have saved it for someone important. A family member. A friend.

Not a stranger she'd met less than twenty-four hours ago.

But here he was, sitting in that seat, feeling like an imposter.

A man beside him extended his hand, breaking through Riaan's thoughts. He was middle-aged, dressed in designer clothes, clearly someone important. "Hey, bro! Which song do you definitely want to hear today?"

Riaan stared at the man's outstretched hand, then back at the stage. "I don't know," he muttered. "I'm not... I don't really know his songs."

The man's jaw dropped. "What?! You're at a Ronnie Chatterjee concert and you don't know his songs?"

Riaan shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the stage. The man stared at him, amused, then quickly turned to the person on his other side, probably to complain about the weirdo next to him.

Riaan didn't care. He was waiting.

Then, the lights dimmed.

The crowd erupted.

Ronnie Chatterjee strode onto the stage, all charm and charisma, his signature leather jacket catching the spotlight. He was even more electric in person, his presence commanding the entire auditorium with just a wave of his hand.

"HELLO, MY LOVELY LISTENERS!!"

The screams were deafening. Riaan barely flinched.

Ronnie waited for the noise to die down, then fixed his watch, a softer expression settling on his face.

"So... This is my eighth show in Delhi. And today, I'd like to dedicate it to one person."

The crowd went quiet. You could hear a pin drop.

"In all these years of my career, there were many ups and downs," Ronnie continued, his voice thick with emotion. "And there were many situations where I felt I'm not enough. But through all the happy and sad moments, one person never left my side."

Riaan felt his chest tighten.

"Unfortunately..." Ronnie paused, swallowing hard. "She left the world yesterday."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Riaan's heart stopped.

"But I'm proud that she's the only woman who's written my first ever song. And she's none other than RASHI MISRA!"

The screen behind Ronnie glowed, and a photo appeared, a beautiful woman with bright eyes and a warm smile. The same face Riaan had seen on the stretcher just yesterday. The same face Ruhi had held and whispered goodbye to.

Riaan froze.

It was her. Ruhi's sister.

The woman who had died in his hospital.

"Rashi was more than a songwriter to me," Ronnie continued, his voice breaking. "She was my rock. My inspiration. And tonight, every song I sing is for her. Because she believed in me when no one else did. And I'll never, ever forget her."

The crowd clapped, a respectful, mournful applause. Riaan sat motionless, his mind reeling.

This was why she played the piano so beautifully. This was why she'd called herself an orphan.

Her sister hadn't just been her sister. She'd been Ronnie Chatterjee's songwriter. She'd been someone important. Someone loved. Someone irreplaceable.

And now she is gone.

Ronnie raised his hand, and the applause died down. "Before we start, my team has to get on the stage. Please welcome them!"

More applause. Riaan watched as musicians filed onto the stage, guitarists, violinists, drummers, and finally—

Ruhi.

She walked to the grand piano at centre stage, her posture perfect, her face calm. She wore a simple black long frock tonight, elegant and understated, her hair swept into a low bun. She looked like she belonged there, like the stage was her natural habitat.

She sat at the piano bench, adjusted her frock, and placed her fingers on the keys.

The show began.

Riaan couldn't take his eyes off her.

He watched her fingers dance across the ivory, each note precise and perfect. He watched her face shift with every song, intense concentration during the fast numbers, soft vulnerability during the ballads. He watched the way she closed her eyes during the emotional parts, like she was feeling every single note in her soul.

Ronnie's voice soared through the auditorium, and Ruhi's piano matched him perfectly.

Song after song, Riaan sat there, completely spellbound. He'd never listened to music this intently in his entire life. But tonight, he couldn't look away. Couldn't stop listening. Couldn't stop thinking about the girl who had lost her sister yesterday and was playing piano for hundreds of people today.

The show ended after two hours.

The crowd roared, demanding an encore. Ronnie laughed, gave a bow, and the team performed one final song, a quiet, soulful melody that had half the audience in tears.

And then it was over.

Riaan sat in his seat as people began to leave, their chatter filling the auditorium. He watched Ruhi rise from the piano bench, exchange a few words with Ronnie, and disappear backstage.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

What was I even doing here?

He walked out to the parking lot, his head heavy with thoughts. The lot was nearly empty now, most of the audience having already left. He unlocked his car and was about to get in when he looked up.

Through the glass floor-to-ceiling windows of the auditorium's upper level, he saw them.

Ronnie Chatterjee was standing in front of Ruhi. They were talking, intense, private, something clearly important.

Then Ronnie pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly, and Ruhi hugged him back just as fiercely.

Riaan's jaw clenched.

What the hell?

He watched them for a moment longer, an unfamiliar feeling twisting in his chest. He didn't know why it bothered him. Ruhi was a stranger. She owed him nothing. If she was close to Ronnie Chatterjee, that was none of his business.

He looked away, trying to shake off the strange pang of jealousy.

None of my business, he told himself firmly.

He opened his car door and then he heard footsteps. He turned to see Ruhi walking into the parking lot, her phone pressed to her ear, her expression frustrated. She was tapping at the screen, probably trying to book a cab.

She looked up, spotted him, and her eyes widened slightly.

Then she walked toward him.

"So you came..." she said, her voice neutral. "Enjoyed the show?"

Riaan's heart pounded. "Yeah," he managed. "It was great."

She nodded, turned to leave, and Riaan heard himself speak before he could stop it.

"I-I can drop you."

He immediately regretted it. Why had he said that? She was clearly not interested. She'd probably think he was a creep, just like—

She turned, looking him up and down with an unreadable expression. "No thanks," she said flatly. "I don't trust doctors."

Riaan blinked. "What? But—"

She was already tapping at her phone again, muttering curses under her breath as the cab booking app failed her. The driver kept cancelling. She tried again. Cancelled. Again. Cancelled.

Riaan watched, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "Uh-uh..." He cleared his throat. "I think you should get in. It's late. You don't need to trust me. Just... let me drive you."

She glanced at him, her eyes sharp and assessing. For a long moment, Riaan thought she'd refuse again.

Then she sighed, walked around to the passenger side, and got in. Riaan smiled to himself as he started the engine.

She was on her phone immediately, texting someone. "Hmm. I'll come. Don't involve him in this. It's my problem."

Riaan glanced at her as she ended the call. "So you play piano for shows like this?"

She didn't look up from her phone. "Not for all shows. Only for Ronnie Chatterjee shows."

Something flickered across Riaan's chest. He didn't like it. The way she said Ronnie's name. The hug he'd witnessed. The familiarity between them.

He pushed the feeling down and focused on the road.

She finally looked up. "Wait. I didn't tell you to drive this way."

"But your orphanage is this way—"

"But I'm not staying there tonight." She pointed ahead. "We need to go back."

Riaan frowned but turned the car around.

She didn't answer, just studied him for a moment. "So you're a cardiologist?"

He nodded. "Hmm."

She hummed noncommittally and went back to her phone.

The rest of the drive was silent, but Riaan didn't mind. He could feel her presence beside him, warm and solid, and that was enough.

She told him to stop at a large apartment building. Riaan looked out the window, modern architecture, high-end security, clearly not a cheap place.

"Is this your private house?" he asked.

She turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Yes. It's my flat. Third floor. 302." She paused, letting the information sink in. "Anything else you want to know about me?"

Riaan's ears burned. "I-I didn't mean—"

"I know what men mean when they ask about women's places," she cut him off, her voice cold. "Especially of women they met eight hours ago."

She opened the car door and stepped out, then leaned back in to deliver her final blow. "Thanks for the ride. And if you try to do something like barging into my house or something... good luck. Because my house has security."

She slammed the door and walked away, muttering under her breath.

Riaan caught the word clearly: "Creep!"

He sat there, stunned, watching her disappear into the building.

And then, despite everything, he laughed. "Damn," he murmured, shaking his head. "She's so tough."

He drove away, but his mind refused to leave her behind. The way she played the piano. The way she hugged Ronnie. The way she'd called him a creep.

Ruhi Misra was infuriating, complicated, and fiercely guarded.

And Riaan Talwar couldn't stop thinking about her.

⁞⁞⁞⁞

Riaan walked through the front door of the mansion, his mind still spinning with images of Ruhi at the piano. The house was quiet except for the soft clatter of cutlery from the dining room.

His cousin Gaurav Grover. His mausi's son was seated at the table, halfway through his dinner. He looked up as Riaan entered, his eyebrows rising slightly. Gaurav was two years younger than Riaan, with an easy smile and a perpetual look of mischief in his eyes. He was the only one in the family who could get away with anything.

"Bhai!" Gaurav waved him over. "Come, sit. Badi Mausi made your favourite dal."

Riaan dropped onto the chair beside him, his body moving on autopilot. Gaurav shoved the rice and curry bowls toward him without a word, and Riaan began eating mechanically, his thoughts still elsewhere.

Gaurav watched him for a long moment, then set down his spoon. "Hmm... Bhai looks so lost today."

"I-its nothing." Riaan didn't look up from his plate.

Gaurav grinned. "Then it's really something."

Riaan sighed, setting down his spoon. He knew Gaurav wouldn't let this go. His cousin had a sixth sense for when something was bothering him.

"I went to Ronnie Chatterjee's concert today," Riaan said quietly.

Gaurav's spoon clattered against his plate. "WHAT????" He shot up from his chair, his eyes wide with disbelief. "WITHOUT TELLING ME!?"

"WITHOUT TAKING ME!??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW LUCKY IS GETTING THAT TICKET!"

Riaan flinched, glancing toward the staircase. "Why are you screaming!? Shut up! Everyone will wake up!"

Gaurav dropped back into his chair, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Bhai! Come on, when did you even book the tickets?"

"I didn't book." Riaan shrugged. "Someone gave me a VIP ticket."

Gaurav's jaw dropped. He looked genuinely insane now, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "WHAT!??? THEY GAVE YOU A 30,000 RUPEES TICKET FOR FREE!? To a man who doesn't even know his songs!?"

Riaan's jaw tightened. "I know his songs now!"

Gaurav sighed in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me who gave it to you! The tickets sold out after ten minutes of opening, and someone gave it for free? What the hell! I can't believe it!!"

Riaan hesitated, his spoon frozen mid-air. "Ronnie's pianist gave it to me."

Gaurav frowned, pulling out his phone. He typed rapidly, then his eyes widened. "Ruhi Misra!???"

Riaan's heart skipped. "Y-you know her?"

"Her name is in his instrumental team," Gaurav explained, scrolling through his phone. "She plays piano. She's at every show of Ronnie's. Her sister Rashi Misra is involved in his songwriting." He looked up, his expression curious. "But tell me why. Did. She. Give. That. Ticket. To. You?"

Riaan shrugged, picking at his food. "I don't know. But tell me you know about her? Like what is she? What's her relationship with Ronnie?"

Gaurav's eyebrows shot up. His cousin was staring at him with an expression of pure amusement, like he'd just witnessed a miracle. Riaan Talwar never peeked into someone's life like this. Never asked questions about people. Never showed interest in anyone.

Gaurav leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I-I only know..." He paused deliberately, enjoying the suspense. "Ronnie Chatterjee has once introduced Ruhi as his little sister."

…

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