chapter 10 Whispers of the past

Sanjana pov

“ You live them.”

His words hung in the air, low and certain, as though they were meant only for me. My fingers tightened around the notepad I carried for my journalism assignments.

“I sing because I have to,” I murmured, lowering my gaze. “It’s my passion… and it helps me earn a little extra for my uncle.” My voice trembled, but my chin stayed lifted. I was not ashamed of who I was.

When I finally looked up, his head was tilted slightly, studying me with an intensity that felt both unsettling and magnetic. His friend—the one with the kind smile—quickly stepped in.

“Don’t mind him. I’m Kabir,” he said warmly. Then, gesturing to the man beside him, he added, “And this is Liam.”

“Liam?” I repeated, surprised at the foreign name. His features—a blend of sharpness and quiet distance—didn’t match the familiarity of Kashmir.

“Liam Turner,” Kabir explained in his halting Hindi. “We’re tourists.” He extended his hand in greeting, but I folded my palms together in a traditional gesture instead.

“I’m here on business,” Liam added, his deep baritone cutting into the air.

I noticed how different they looked—both tall and confident, but Kabir carried Indian warmth while Liam, with his golden-brown hair and piercing blue eyes, was strikingly foreign. Their expensive clothes spoke of privilege, wealth, a world far from mine.

And yet—why were they here? Why me?

I shifted uneasily, clutching my books. “That’s nice. But I should really—”

“Wait.” His voice was firm, commanding enough to still my steps. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t tell my name to strangers,” I muttered, turning away. But before I could move, his hand caught my arm.

Startled, my feet tangled beneath me. I stumbled, bracing for the cold floor—but instead I collided with something hard, warm. My heartbeat roared in my ears.

I opened my eyes. Blue. An endless, impossible blue—like the sky and the sea had melted into his gaze. It was then I realized I had fallen against Liam’s chest, his arm steady around my waist. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I struggled to hide my face behind my hair.

But destiny betrayed me. He tucked the strands gently behind my ear, his touch sending a shiver through me.

“I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, trying to wriggle free.

“Blush suits you,” he said quietly.

My heart stuttered.

“Your name,” he pressed. “I could find it out here, but I want you to tell me yourself.”

“Sanjana,” I whispered.

He repeated it slowly, like tasting something rare. “Sanjana.”

His faint smile wasn’t soft—it was knowing, as if he had stumbled upon a treasure. “Your voice doesn’t just sing. It pulls people in. I’ve been searching for someone like you.”

Suspicion flickered through me. “For what?”

“My company,” he said without hesitation. “I’m launching a music label in New York. I came all the way here in search of a voice that feels real. Not polished, not artificial. Real. And you—you’re it.”

I let out a short, sharp laugh. “You think I’ll believe that? I sing in cafés for extra money. That’s all. I’m not chasing fame.”

Liam’s gaze held steady, unwavering. “Fame fades. But authenticity doesn’t. One day, the world will crave what you carry in your voice. You just don’t see it yet.”

My grip tightened on my notepad, heart pounding from the weight of his conviction. Kabir leaned forward with a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “He means well, Sanjana. He’s just… blunt.”

I pressed my lips together, flustered yet unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. “Thank you, but I don’t plan on being anyone’s project.”

And with that, I left.

But his words lingered, echoing louder than my own heartbeat.

The Next Evening

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of kahwa and pine. Lanterns shimmered on Dal Lake, their reflections breaking in ripples as shikaras drifted across the water. I walked along the shore, trying to clear the storm of thoughts his words had left behind.

That’s when I saw him.

Liam stood by the water’s edge, coat draped elegantly, Kabir at his side. His eyes weren’t on the lake. They were waiting—for me.

I froze. “You again?”

A faint smile curved his lips. “I told you. I don’t give up easily.”

Kabir raised his hands helplessly. “I tried to stop him. But once Liam decides something…”

My eyes narrowed. “And what has he decided this time?”

Liam stepped closer, the lamplight carving shadows across his sharp features. His voice was softer now, almost reverent. “That your voice doesn’t belong in the corner of a café. It belongs on a stage. To be heard.”

“You don’t even know me,” I whispered, torn between anger and the strange pull in my chest.

“I know enough,” he replied. “I know when a voice carries truth. And truth—” his eyes locked with mine “—is the rarest thing in music.”

The world around us seemed to still, the waters of Dal Lake quiet, the night itself holding its breath.

“Come sing for me, Sanjana,” Liam said. “Not for money. Not for fame. For the music.”

For a moment, I almost let myself believe him. Almost.

But then reality struck—my uncle’s struggling household, the weight of responsibility, the danger of dreaming too far. I shook my head, stepping back.

“No, Liam. I’m not your singer.” My voice was steady, though my heart was racing. “I sing for myself. For my family. Nothing more. You should find someone else.”

His jaw tightened, but his eyes didn’t waver. If anything, they burned brighter, as though my refusal had only deepened his resolve.

I turned away, my footsteps echoing against the quiet night, telling myself I had escaped his world.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, I knew this wasn’t the end.