हवाओं से तेरा पता पूछता हूँ

अब तो आजा तू कहीं से............

That's It Mantavya couldn't stand there anymore and ran outside. In the rain , he searched for Yatra but couldnt find her in the campus.He quickly ran to near the library side to find Yatra's bag and the diary but couldnt find her. He searched the whole library , the whole campus screaming Yatra's name but couldn't find her. He felt his heart ache because he thought he might have lost her.

Meanwhile , Yatra took her cycle and went near the river side. Her eyes red because of anger and tears streaming down mixing with the rain. As she reached the river side , and broke down in tears.She felt her heart break into pieces. A wind went past her , holding like a message and travelling to the campus.

Mantavya felt the wind blowing , as if saying that it has found her. He ran towards his car and went near the riverside. For the first time he saw Yatra crying , which shattered his heart into pieces. He didn't realised that he had already fallen for her.

"Yatra..." he called out, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried through the wind.

She stiffened. She didn't look back, but her voice came out sharp, cutting through the sound of the falling rain. "Chale jaiye yahan se, Professor. Haven't you seen enough? Deals, diaries... ab kya bacha hai?"

Mantavya didn't stay back. He walked through the mud, his soaked clothes heavy, until he was standing right beside her. "Kuch nahi bacha hai, Yatra. No more titles, no more Royal family, and no more Professor. Just me... and you."

Yatra finally looked up. Her kohl-smudged eyes were red, and her face was pale. "You read my soul in that diary, Mantavya. You knew I was terrified of being a 'deal'. And yet, you are the center of the biggest deal of my life. How do I trust that your kindness wasn't just... preparation?"

"Because I didn't know!" Mantavya knelt in the grass, heedless of the mud staining his trousers. He grabbed her hand—it was ice cold. "I swear on the soil of Jodhpur, Yatra. I rejected every photo my Bua sent. I told them I wouldn't marry a business interest. I came to Delhi to escape that life, just like you did."

Yatra tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was firm—not forceful, but desperate.

"The wind brought me here, Yatra," he said, his voice trembling. "It told me that the girl who writes about 'adhoore vaade' was breaking. I didn't come here for a Rathore heiress. I came here for the girl who makes my heart skip a beat every time she snaps her pen in my class."

Yatra looked at their joined hands—his warm and trembling, hers frozen and pale. For a long moment, the only sound was the heavy rain hitting the river's surface. The "Ice Queen" was gone; in her place was just a girl who had been running for too long.

"Why should I believe you?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "In my world, everything has a price tag. My father didn't send me to Delhi for 'Education', Mantavya. He sent me here to be closer to your family’s influence. He sold my freedom before I even stepped onto the flight."

"Then let’s steal it back," Mantavya said, his gaze intense. He didn't let go of her hand. "If we fight them openly right now, they will pull you out of this city. Your father will take you back to Hyderabad, and my Bua will find another 'merger' for me. We’ll both lose."

Yatra wiped a stray tear with her free hand, looking at him with a mix of confusion and hope. "Toh phir kya bacha hai? "

"A drama," Mantavya replied, a streak of Rajput stubbornness appearing in his eyes. "We give them what they want... or at least, we make them think we are. Hum is 'rishte' ka naatak karenge. Let the world think the Prince and the Heiress are a perfect match. It will keep the Bua quiet and your father satisfied."

Yatra’s breath hitched. "You want us to lie? To be a fiancé to a girl you barely know?"

"I know the girl who wrote 'Safar lamba hai'," Mantavya said softly, leaning closer until the rain falling between them felt like a shared secret. "And I think I’d like to know her more. This 'pact' gives us time, Yatra. It gives you the freedom to stay in Delhi and write, and it gives me the right to protect you from them."

Yatra looked out at the river. The water was turbulent, much like her life, but for the first time, she didn't feel like she was drowning alone. She slowly turned her palm upward, entwining her fingers with his. It wasn't a confession of love—it was a declaration of war against their families.

"The Sweet Professor is a better liar than I thought," she whispered, a tiny, jagged smile finally touching her lips.

"Sirf aapke liye," Mantavya replied, his heart finally finding its rhythm again.

He stood up and pulled her gently to her feet. They stood there in the mud and the rain—two rebels disguised as a Royal couple. As he walked her back to his car, Mantavya looked at her cycle left behind and realized their journey had just shifted gears.

The 'Safar' was still long, but the 'Humsafar' was no longer a stranger.