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Author's POV

The weekend at the Sharma household was a rare oasis of sisterly bonding. Both mannu and kittu are at home. Curled up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, Kittu and Mannu finally shared the highlights of their chaotic week-though both carefully omitted the names that made their hearts skip.

"So, this doctor," Kittu teased, nudging Mannu. "He really stood up to that man? Schooled him on patriarchy while twisting his arm? Mannu, that is top-tier hero behavior. He sounds like a genuinely good guy."

Mannu felt a blush creep up her neck, but she wasn't about to let Kittu off the hook. "He did. But let's talk about your 'Cold-Blooded CEO.' A man who lunges into boiling coffee just to save your blazer? Kittu, that's not just a gesture; that's a massive, glowing green flag. He literally took the burn for you!"

"It was just a reflex," Kittu muttered, though her smile was shy.

"A reflex? If a guy is willing to get a second-degree burn just so you stay spotless, he's not just your boss, sis-he's your bodyguard." Mannu's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I bet you did the first aid very... slowly, didn't you?"

"Mannu! Shut up!" Kittu laughed, throwing a cushion at her. The room filled with the kind of giggles that only sisters share-the kind that makes any girl reading their texts wish for a bond just as sweet.

Mannu's POV

While the teasing was fun, the reality of "Sunday Selection" was a nightmare. Over the next few weekends, Mamma turned our living room into an audition stage for the 'Arranged Marriage Circus.'. I met few guys over a period of time.

The first guy looked at my Biotech degree and said, "It's great you earn well. My mother will handle your salary after the wedding; she's very good with budgets." I nearly choked on my tea.

The second one didn't even say hello. He just asked, "Are your parents financially dependent on you? Because I don't want any 'extra baggage' in our household."

The third one was the winner. He leaned back arrogantly and said, "You're lucky, you know. I rejected five girls this month, but I think you'll do."

I walked back to the camp on Monday feeling utterly drained. These weren't life partners; they were red-flag collectors. The circus was exhausting, and for the first time, the idea of being alone felt like a luxury.

Dhruv's POV

Time is passing and the breakthrough came when a nurse walked up to me. "Dr. Mishra, Ms. Sharma left this invitation for you. She was sorry she missed you."

My stomach dropped. This is it. The wedding. "Manvi Sharma?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"No, sir. Dimple Sharma, from the admin desk. She's marrying next month."

The relief that washed over me was so violent I had to sit down. She wasn't engaged. She was single.

The relief of knowing she wasn't engaged should have made me celebrate, but as the evening shadows stretched over the camp, a different kind of pain settled in.

I sat on the wooden bench outside my cabin, watching the silhouette of the mess hall. Twelve years ago, Manvi was a girl who didn't have a full stop. She was a whirlwind of words, laughter, and breathless stories that could fill an entire afternoon. Her voice used to be the soundtrack of my life.

But now? Now, she doesn't even talk to me unless it's about a patient's glucose levels or a dietary chart.

The silence she maintains is louder than any argument we ever had. I watched her walk across the muddy path toward the women's quarters, her shoulders straight, her gaze fixed ahead. She didn't look my way. She didn't offer the small, mischievous smile that used to be mine.

I miss her. Not just the woman she has become-the fierce, competent nutritionist-but the girl who used to spill her heart out to me without a second thought. I miss the noise of her. I miss the way she used to fill the spaces between my thoughts. Every time I pass her in the hallway and she offers nothing but a professional nod, I feel the distance of a decade all over again.

I called Maa immediately. "Maa, stop searching. I've decided. Send the rishta to Manvi Sharma's house."

"The same Manvi? From twelve years ago?" Swarna's voice was shocked, then surprisingly warm. "Well... you're both adults now. If she's the one who makes you happy, then she's the one I want. I'll talk to your father."

Author's POV

The wheels of fate began to turn rapidly. When the matchmaker called Kumud with the profile of 'Dr. Dhruv Mishra,' the Sharma parents were stunned.

"Dhruv?" Kumud looked at Neeraj. "The boy from the school incident?"

Neeraj sighed, but it was a hopeful sound. "We were all young and reactive then, Kumud. He's a surgeon now-well-settled, respectable. If our daughter is going through this circus of red flags, why not look at a boy who we actually know? As long as Manvi is okay with it, I have no issue."

Kumud agreed, but with a cautious heart. "Let's not tell Manvi yet. The last time our families met, it was a disaster. Let's invite them to our house first. Let's see if the parents can bridge the gap before we bring the kids into it."

And so, the invitation was sent. Manav, Swarna, and Dhruv were officially invited to the Sharma residence for dinner. The storm that began twelve years ago was finally heading toward a very crowded, very hopeful dining table.

The past is coming to dinner. Will it be a reunion or a riot?

Stay tuned guys! Please leave a vote if you like the chapter