The late afternoon sun bathed the college field in soft amber hues. The leaves rustled above them, a lazy breeze wandering through the branches, scattering memories across the grass like petals in the wind.
Rajan lay on Rani's lap, head resting gently on the folds of her saree, his eyes half-closed. For the first time in years—perhaps lifetimes—his heart felt at ease. Her fingers moved rhythmically through his hair, calm and careful, like she was memorizing him through touch.
They didn't need to say much. The silence between them was not empty. It was full—of unspoken promises, of heavy emotions, and the ache of impending distance.
"So?" Rani finally broke the quiet, her voice as light as the wind. "What's your plan, warrior?"
Rajan smirked, not opening his eyes. "Hmm… probably go back to Japan. Take care of dad's failing company. Try to fix it before the board eats it alive."
"Hmm," she nodded thoughtfully. "Should I help you? Pull some strings? I have a few industrialist uncles dying to throw money at problems."
He chuckled. "No. This is my war. My mess. I've lost everything once already. I want to rebuild it with my own hands."
Rani tilted her head, still brushing his hair gently. "That's noble. But exhausting. You don't always have to carry the world on your shoulders, you know."
"I know," Rajan whispered. "But this isn't about the world. It's about proving I still exist."
She leaned down slightly, brushing her lips against his forehead. "You exist to me."
He opened his eyes and looked up at her.
"Just… love me," he said, softly. "That's all I want. One day I'll come for you. With a ring. A promise. A future."
Rani smiled, her fingers pausing in his hair. "You know what?"
"What?" he asked, curious.
"I think…" she said slowly, "…you'll marry more than just me."
Rajan blinked. "What?"
"I don't mind," she continued, looking up at the dancing leaves, "it's just a feeling I get. You're… too vast to belong to just one person. You give too much of yourself."
Rajan sat up slowly, facing her. "Why would you say something like that?"
She met his gaze, calm and fearless. "I don't mean it in a sad way. I mean—your heart is big. It holds oceans. Maybe in this life, or another, you'll love others too. And maybe they'll love you just as much."
There was no jealousy in her voice. Only grace. Understanding.
He exhaled, deeply moved. "That's… strangely beautiful. But don't say things like that now. I'm trying to keep this moment simple."
Rani chuckled. "Okay, my intense philosopher."
Rajan leaned in and tapped her forehead gently. "Alright, my queen. Let your wild feelings float away for now."
She laughed. "Hahaha! Fine, I'll bottle them up and open them on our wedding night."
Their laughter mingled with the whispering wind. For a while they just sat there, no words exchanged, watching the golden sun begin to set beyond the field—two souls on the edge of a goodbye neither of them wanted.
The tree swayed above them, as if listening. Maybe it would remember this moment long after they'd gone.
And far beyond, across time and fate, the heart of a Maharshi beat silently—growing stronger with every selfless act, every sacred promise.