Trauma Took Everything -But Not Him

Title: When We Remembered

Part One: The Outcast Prince

Aryan Singh Rathore at St. Elora’s Residential School—an elite hilltop boarding school for the children of tycoons, diplomats, and dynasties. Aryan didn’t advertise his bloodline. No one knew where he came from, or why he walked like a prince no one had crowned.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoC6y4gLanI
He had vitiligo. White patches bloomed across his arms and neck like old maps. The students whispered. “Leper prince,” they mocked. “Albino ghost.” But Aryan never flinched. His storm-gray eyes stared back, not with fear, but with silence deeper than revenge.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtB8ukfbuki
At night, he dreamed. Of deserts. Of battles. Of chants: Prithviraj! Prithviraj!Always—there was a girl. Her eyes veiled but unmistakably fierce. Waiting. Watching.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj7ElVQAzrE
In waking life, Aryan was bullied, shy, hidden in shame. But in dreams? He was revered. Respected. Feared. This duality began to crack something inside him. Was this delusion? Or a memory that refused to die?

Part Two: The Girl Who Spoke in Gold

Samaira Deshmukh lived in a middle-class colony in Delhi. She was seventeen, studied literature, took the metro, helped her mom run a tiffin service. Ordinary, by all means.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLJXQkM8JQu
Except—she wasn’t.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFj1uXLfBiY
She once asked a grocer, “How many gold coins for potatoes?” Dead serious.She hated social media. She didn’t understand trends. She spoke like she’d stepped out of an epic.And at night—she saw fire. Women chanting. Invaders screaming. Her daughters clinging to her saree. And him. Storm-eyed. A warrior chained by destiny.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy2RTIvIhFt
She didn't just see these dreams. She felt them—through her bones and her silence.

Part Three: Collision

They met during monsoon.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡESk6iXBqcM
She was barefoot under the rain, face turned to the sky.“You’ll catch pneumonia,” he said, dry as gravel.She opened her eyes. “It’s just rain.”“You could fall sick.”“And wearing a cape to school is completely healthy?” she grinned.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡraPhzJAjkn
The storm between them was instant. But they didn’t flirt. They retreated.Teenagers afraid of what their instincts already knew.Still—every night, she crept into his dreams. And for the first time, she laughed there.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPauZn2AWDK
He dismissed them. Just dreams, he thought. Just tricks of a lonely heart.

Part Four: The Forgotten Fire

For four months, they never exchanged names. Yet they kept meeting at the same old banyan tree.Lunches shared. Eyes met during assembly. Notes passed. But nothing spoken aloud.Until one day, she said, “I’ve seen you before.”“In a dream?” he asked.She nodded. “We’re always running. Or riding. You die in the end.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡecfSzKopRc
His breath stilled.“Same dream,” he said.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEjyeKQ3WAZ
And then they stopped speaking.Maybe it was fear. Maybe guilt.Some truths burn too close to the bone.

Part Five: The Outcast and the Rebel

He showed her his scars.“Does it hurt?” she whispered, tracing the white on his skin.“I already died once,” he said. “What’s a few insults now?”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZHvrn5A9Xk
She confessed too. About the veil she sometimes reached for.“I used to dream of waiting for a prince in a room full of mirrors.”“You don’t need saving,” he said.“No,” she replied. “But once, you did.”

Part Six: The Swayamvar Memory

It happened at a museum. A painting: Sanyogita placing a garland on Prithviraj Chauhan’s statue.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsnMZsYeuHY
Samaira froze.“I’ve done this before.”Aryan clenched his fists.“I walked into a court of jackals. I garlanded a statue. They screamed. But I knew you’d come.”“I did,” he said hoarsely. “On horseback. We fled to Ajmer.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd2dEu1tVA4
Tears welled.“We were so young.”“We were in love.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcA2ugOi471
They held hands. No words. Just grief.

Part Seven: Blood and Betrayal

“I remember my son,” she said one windy evening.“And the fire,” her voice broke. “Johar. I stepped into it with my daughters.”He blinked fast. “And I wasn’t there. I was in chains.”“I know.”“I should’ve saved you.”“You saved me now.”

Part Eight: Guilt in This Life

“I didn’t go with my dad when he left for war,” Aryan said.“There was a school play. I stayed behind. He died. I was...laughing.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtQTbVjJ3iL
She touched his chest.“You’ve carried war longer than any soldier. Let it end here.”

Part Nine: Remembering Together

They began writing. Names. Dates. Dreams. They mapped a life they hadn’t lived, but somehow remembered.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7nG9f2KnqC
“Ajmer,” Aryan whispered. “There was an underground palace.”“There was a courtyard,” she said. “You got a scar fighting ten guards.”“You remembered?”“Better than a statue ever could.”

Part Ten: The New Future

Three months later, the dreams blurred. The visions slowed.But their bond? That sharpened.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Wdhppz4vG
Aryan walked proudly, vitiligo on full display.Samaira wrote poems about fire and veils and women who burned but didn’t break.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC7Gjcb6KGU
They laughed. They cried less. They built fortresses out of sand, memories out of silence.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsZSc3wKH5H
“This hill,” Aryan said one day, “is where I’d build our palace.”She smiled. “Let’s start with a shack. Rent’s insane.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡokmXsYHBit
They laughed. Really laughed.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmsEyXPZQoJ
“This time, we live,” she said.He nodded. “This time, we get it right.”

Part Eleven: Full Circle

Rain fell again. They stood under the banyan tree.“I remembered something else,” she said.“You used to write me letters. On palm leaves.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXcZ5pTCESS
Aryan pulled out a notebook. “I never stopped.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtLsJq2LE9W
She opened it. Pages filled with handwriting. Dreams. Battles. Kisses.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSo3ZrmRv3u
“I love you,” she whispered.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZusU7kiLaH
And then came the truth.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyG9kteSIze
“Maybe I was just a fangirl,” she said, “infatuated with a hero I didn’t know. We were married for barely two years. You were always at war. You had other wives. Where was the love?”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIkmKy1zk9k
Aryan looked at her, eyes steady.“And maybe I only loved your legend. Not you. Maybe it wasn’t love. Just hunger. Ego. Escape.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXSFfT4IpB6
A long pause.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj32sbbbdKI
“In our last life, we loved without knowing each other.”“In this one, we knew each other—and realized... maybe that wasn’t love at all.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQVjahPikSY
They didn’t kiss.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡejG5DLzmPT
They held hands, just for a moment.Then let go.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMXvozI9biQ
They chose to walk away. Not in pain. Not in bitterness. But in truth.

Final Line

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"To truly love someone," she wrote later, "you must know them. Memory isn’t love. Longing isn’t love. Recognition isn’t love.Only awareness is."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyLvMIANrOq

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