The days after the fair felt… strange.
Classes resumed, festivals ended, but something in the air around Nandanpur and Devgarh had shifted — like the world was watching them quietly.
And on November 5, that watching became louder.
That morning, the sky over both towns looked different — not stormy, not sunny, but unsettled, like a mood hanging above the fields.
Abhay kicked his scooter awake and Ishanvi hopped onto hers. Their siblings rode ahead, arguing about who would reach Devgarh first.
"Race?" Ishanvi asked, smiling as she adjusted her helmet.
"You'll lose," Abhay smirked.
But when they revved and pushed forward down the long road between Nandanpur and Devgarh, something happened.
The wind changed direction — suddenly, violently.
As if it didn't want them riding side by side.
Abhay's scooter wobbled to the left.
Ishanvi's was pushed to the right.
"Woah! Careful!" she shouted.
Abhay steadied himself, frowning. "The wind isn't supposed to shift like that on a clear day."
They tried again.
Every time their scooters aligned, the wind shoved them apart.
Every. Single. Time.
"Okay…" Ishanvi breathed, pulling over near the big banyan tree. "That was weird."
Abhay didn't answer. He was staring at the river's direction — Sudarshini's silver line shimmered in the far distance.
The water… moved unnaturally.
Like a ripple starting without cause.
"Ishu…" he whispered, "…this river— our powers — they're waking up. Maybe that's all."
But Ishanvi shook her head.
She felt the sting of something she didn't want to admit.
"Abhay… nature doesn't push without a reason."
They continued to school reluctantly, but the strange signs didn't stop.
At School
In the hallway, the lights flickered only when they walked side by side.
When they moved apart — steady.
When Abhay brushed past Ishanvi by accident, a nearby windowpane fogged up… from the inside.
And during recess, when they sat beneath the gulmohar tree, a sudden burst of dry leaves fell exactly between them — a perfect line.
Meera joked,
"Arre, nature is doing India-Pakistan border between you two!"
Everyone laughed except the two who were supposed to.
Abhay stared at the ground. "This is stupid. Trees don't choose sides."
But even as he said it, the gulmohar's branches bent slightly… away from him and toward Ishanvi, and the wind blew cold around his back while warm around hers.
It wasn't subtle.
It wasn't imagination.
Nature was interfering.
After School
The sun dipped as they rode home.
This time, Abhay rode ahead, and Ishanvi followed behind — because every time they came close, the air resisted.
Near the Sudarshini bridge, they both halted.
The river was glowing faintly beneath the setting sun — but the water near Abhay looked calmer, mirror-like, while the side closer to Ishanvi rippled restlessly like flames dancing.
Two halves of the river behaving differently.
As if rejecting the idea of being one.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Ishanvi whispered, voice breaking in her throat:
"Abhay… what if… what if we're not meant to be?"
He swallowed hard.
He had felt it too.
The river. The wind. The earth.
Everything pushing them apart.
But his heart?
His heart refused to listen.
He stepped closer — the wind pushed him back sharply.
"I don't care," he said stubbornly, breath shaking. "I don't care what nature is saying. I choose you."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Sometimes," she whispered, "the world knows more than we do."
They stood there, separated by a force they couldn't see, only feel.
Neither moving.
Neither leaving.
Just two hearts fighting a universe that had already made a decision.
The sky grumbled softly, as if warning them.
And for the first time since their powers awakened…
both of them felt afraid.