Sheher Lahore ka tha. Mausam sardiyon ka.

Areesha har roz university jaate hue ek purani chai ki dukan ke samne se guzarti thi. Wahan har roz ek larka, ek diary haath mein liye, chai peeta nazar aata. Uska naam Rayyan tha.

Areesha ne kabhi us se baat nahi ki, lekin uski muskurahat mein kuch tha - jo uske dil ko chhoo jaata. Aankhon mein itminan, lekin chehre par udaasi ka saya. Jaise har baat ko likhne wala koi khamosh shayar ho.

Ek din jab barish ho rahi thi, Areesha ne apni chhatri us larke par thaam di, jo bheeg raha tha. Wo hairan hua, phir muskuraya.

"Tum roz mujhe likhte hue dekhti ho, aur aaj mujhe bheegne se bacha liya."

Areesha sharma gayi.

"Aur tum roz muskurate ho jaise mere din ki ibtida tum se ho," wo keh gayi bina soche.

Us din ke baad dono roz chai ke cup ke sath jazbaat share karne lage. Rayyan ne bataya ke wo ek novel likh raha hai, jismein ek larki hoti hai jo har din uske likhne ka sabab banti hai.

Areesha ne hans ke pucha, "Us larki ka naam kya hai?"

Rayyan ne diary kholi, aur likha hua naam dikhaya - "Areesha."

Us lamhe mein dono samajh gaye ke mohabbat chup ke nahi reh sakti. Wo likhi ja chuki hoti hai, bas samajhne ke liye aik muskurahat ki der hoti hai.