Sejal couldn't believe her eyes.
After a whole year, to suddenly come face to face with Dean—like this? She hadn't imagined it, not even in a dream.
Those eyes…
They were moist, deep, and mysterious—eyes that could speak without saying a single word.
His skin, almost too fair, like the touch of it might burn her fingertips.
At least 5'11'' in height, he carried an aura—intense, intimidating.
A little angry, a little distant… yet behind it all, as if he carried an ocean of buried sorrow.
He was the kind of man she always dreamt of.
And Dean?
He was staring straight into Sejal's eyes.
A look filled with surprise, curiosity… and perhaps the hidden key to a locked emotion.
"Dean! Why are you hitting my brother?"
Sejal shouted, her voice sharp with anger.
"This was your fault! You hit our car. Look at the time—I'm already late for my tuition. If you don't end this right now, I'll call the police!"
Dean didn't respond.
He simply stood there—still, calm—his gaze fixed, his expression unreadable.
There was no rage in him. Only something deeper. Unspoken.
But Denny couldn't take it anymore.
Fuming with anger, he pushed Dean aside and growled,
"Don't you dare look at my sister like that, got it?
I know boys like you too well.
If you want a fight, meet me on the basketball court this Monday. Let's settle it there!"
And with that, he grabbed Sejal by the hand, shoved her into the car, and drove away.
---
That day, Sejal couldn't focus in class at all.
Her mind kept drifting back to a memory...
Something from exactly one year ago.
Dean had returned to their neighborhood during the holidays.
He was studying architecture at a prestigious university abroad.
A basketball champion. Stylish. Reserved. And yes… a bit cold.
Sejal hadn't known back then,
that the boy who had sparked something in her heart at first glance…
was none other than Dean, the son of the very family her parents never wanted to mention.
That day, Dean had come to the local playground to play basketball.
And Sejal? She had been sitting quietly in a corner, book in hand, lost in her own little world.
And then… their eyes had met.
No—it wasn't like a romantic movie scene.
There were no violins, no slow-motion wind.
But still…
That single fleeting glance
had planted something inside Sejal—
a feeling she couldn't explain.
And now, a year later, seeing him again—
It felt like an old story was being written all over again…
from the beginning.
(To be continued…)