AANYA’S POV

Sunlight stabbed through the curtains like a sword. Aanya groaned, burying her face in the pillow.

Why is the world awake before me? Why must the sun betray me so early?

Her phone buzzed. One message. Her eyes snapped open.

Unknown: Morning, night owl. India must be bright and loud right now?

Her heartbeat stuttered. He knows I’m in India.

Aanya: Morning. And yes… bright, loud, and my brain hasn’t started yet.

Unknown: I should have warned you. Sunlight can be dangerous.

She rolled onto her side, messy hair sprawled across the pillow. Dangerous? Dramatic? Totally him, I guess.

Aanya: Dangerously dramatic. Must be genetic.

Unknown: I’ll accept that as a compliment.

A thrill ran through her—someone who could read her mood without even seeing her face.

Her mother shouted from downstairs:
“Aanya! Beta! Breakfast is ready! Auntie and cousins are coming any minute!”

Perfect timing. Chaos.

Aanya: I’ll be late. If my boss yells one more time, I might actually throw myself into—

Unknown: Please don’t pick the Arabian Sea again. I’d worry about your swimming skills. You can save my number has “A”

She laughed, covering her mouth. He… cares? Or at least pretends to.

she hit “Add Contact” and saved him as A. — just a letter, no country, no last nameI shouldn’t like this stranger… I shouldn’t…

Cousins stormed in, shrieking:

“Who took my hairband?!”
“Why is my bag on the floor?!”
“Why is Aanya hiding under a blanket again?!”

Aanya groaned, swatting them gently.
“Please. Sunlight is attacking me. Can’t you see?”

Ignored, she fled to the bathroom. Hot water, shampoo. A brief illusion of calm.

No response. They only screamed louder.

She poked her head out and tried to reason: “I’m alive. I promise. Just—”

A miniature human (her youngest cousin) ran past her, almost knocking over a glass vase. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Why do humans reproduce so energetically? Aanya thought bitterly, inching toward the bathroom.

Finally, she escaped into a temporary oasis—hot water and shampoo. Steam curled around her like a protective cloud. A moment of calm.

Her phone buzzed. She wiped her wet hands on her towel and grabbed it.

A.: You’re surviving the chaos… admirable.

She smiled at the screen, imagining him speaking those words with that calm, teasing tone.

Aanya: Barely. Breakfast war imminent. Family might eat me instead of toast.

A.: Then I’ll come and rescue you. Unfortunately, oceans are in the way.

She chuckled. Somehow, even across oceans, his words felt protective. She almost imagined him stepping through the doorway, suavely saving her from the chaos.

I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I shouldn’t…

The living room looked like a miniature battlefield. Plates clattered, chairs scraped, and the smell of burnt toast mingled with chai.

Her aunt hovered over the kitchen counter like a general inspecting the troops.

Her aunt’s voice pierced the air:
“Beta, eat something! You look like a ghost!”

Aanya picked up a slice of toast, her hand shaking from laughing too hard. “Ghosts don’t need coffee,” she muttered under her breath.

Her cousin Ishaan waved a tablet in her face, showing cricket highlights with dramatic commentary. “Did you see that six?! That was insane!”

She nearly dropped her toast. Almost. How do humans survive this level of chaos?

Her younger cousin shrieked again: “Maa, she took my hairband!”

“Ishaan! My tablet!” the older cousin yelled.

Aanya ducked behind a chair, toast in hand, and whispered to herself: Please let me survive this breakfast war.

Her phone buzzed again:

A.: Coffee survived? Breakfast casualties?

She typed back, smiling:

Aanya: Toast safe. Cousin survived. Only minor injuries.

A.: Good. I’ll add that to your bravery report.

Aanya nearly choked on toast laughing at his words. Bravery report? Who writes these things? Him, apparently… and somehow it’s adorable.

The dog barked at the sudden movement of her cousin slipping on a rug. The cat hissed at both, knocking a salt shaker onto the floor.

She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath: Perfect. Complete breakfast chaos.

A buzz from the phone again:

A.: Do you need backup? I could send a rescue drone… or a motivational quote?

Aanya: Both. Preferably with coffee and chocolate.

A.: Noted. Virtual coffee and chocolate en route. Hold tight.

She laughed, feeling the warmth of the connection across oceans. Somehow, his jokes, even digital, were grounding in the madness.

After breakfast, the war continued.

Her aunt insisted she eat more.
Her cousins demanded to show her every new game on their tablets.
The dog barked at the door.
The cat, offended by the dog, hissed at everyone.

Aanya: I need a vacation… in my own bathroom.

She ducked behind the couch for a moment of privacy, only to be discovered by her mischievous younger cousin.

Why is everyone in this house determined to ruin my personal space?

Her phone buzzed:

A.: Remind me to never underestimate your survival skills again.

She smiled, lying on the couch, the chaos around her suddenly feeling like a little adventure instead of an ordeal.

Maybe I don’t mind having someone… watching over me, even from so far away.

The dog barked. The cat hissed. She cursed softly under her breath. And somehow, that small storm made him care more than he expected.

A.: Keep surviving, hero. Your bravery report will be published tomorrow.

Adrian smiled, shaking his head. Who am I becoming? Why does her chaos feel… important?

ADRIAN’S POV

Across continents, Adrian leaned against the balcony railing in Valeria. The sun was setting over golden fountains, the city glowing in soft orange. Ministers were murmuring inside the palace halls, but none of that mattered.

His focus was entirely on Her.

He pictured the scene vividly: cousins shrieking, chairs scraping, small feet running across polished floors, a mother and aunt trying to organize the chaos, and Her—half-hidden under a blanket, eyes peeking out, exasperated and amusingly frazzled.

Her: I’ll be late. If my boss yells one more time, I might actually throw myself into—

Adrian.: Please don’t pick the Arabian Sea again. I’d worry about your swimming skills.

He smiled at her imagined laugh, at the way she might have flinched when Ishaan nearly knocked over the vase.

Her little act of saving him as A. in her phone made him feel tethered to her world—an invisible line connecting him to her chaos.

He imagined her ducking behind the couch with toast in hand, narrowly avoiding Ishaan’s “tablet attack.” Her half-laugh, half-grimace expression made him smile.

Her: Toast safe. Cousin survived. Only minor injuries.

Adrian.: Good. I’ll add that to your bravery report.

The dog barked. The cat hissed. She cursed softly under her breath. And somehow, that small storm made him care more than he expected.

Adrian : Keep surviving, hero. Your bravery report will be published tomorrow.

Adrian smiled, shaking his head. Who am I becoming? Why does her chaos feel… important?

Even thousands of miles away, he could feel her energy, hear her laughter. That chaos, that life… it was magnetic. He wanted to be part of it.

AANYA’S POV

The office was a battlefield disguised as a workspace. Printers jammed, phones rang incessantly, and somewhere, Raghav’s growl of disapproval cut through the hum of computers.

Aanya peeked over her desk, hoping no one had noticed she’d spilled coffee on her notes. Too late—her chair squeaked as she tried to push it back under her desk.

Of course, perfect timing, she muttered. My chair betrays me, my printer hates me, and Raghav is glaring like he’s auditioning for a horror film.

Her phone buzzed.

A.: Survived the morning?

Aanya: Barely. Pretending to work while everything burns around me.

A.: Impressive strategy. I’ll take notes.

She smiled, biting back a laugh. Her coworkers were all busy, oblivious to the private conversation making her pulse race.

Raghav appeared at her desk, sliding a thick stack of files toward her. “Aanya, these need to be filed by today.”

Of course they do. Everything in the universe conspires against me, she thought.

Her phone buzzed again.

A.: Note taken. Rescue memes ready next time.

She chuckled quietly, almost dropping a file. Rescue memes… really? He’s insane—but somehow it’s perfect.

The office chaos continued. Ishita, her mischievous teammate, decided to “help” her by swapping files between desks. Aanya noticed only because her neatly stacked papers were suddenly upside down.

Aanya: Ishita is on a mission to make me cry quietly at my desk.

A.: Threat level: maximum. Deploy backup strategy.

She giggled. If he knew the chaos here… oh, he’d probably send a rescue helicopter.

Later, she attempted to use the printer. It groaned, spat out half a page, and jammed. Aanya sighed, muttering under her breath. “Do printers hate me personally?”

A.: Possibly. Stand strong. You are the chosen one.

The chosen one? Chosen to suffer office disasters? She laughed to herself, drawing a few curious glances from coworkers.

By lunchtime, her desk looked like a small war zone: spilled coffee, scattered papers, and one tiny sticky note reading: “Survive at all costs.” She had written it herself as a joke.

Her phone buzzed again:

A.: Lunch break recommendation: eat something. You can’t fight printers on an empty stomach.

Aanya: Noted. Will try to survive the cafeteria too.

ADRIAN’S POV

Adrian leaned against the balcony railing, the Valerian evening light reflecting off marble fountains. He pictured her in her office: hair slightly messy, sleeves rolled up, one eyebrow arched in silent frustration.

He imagined her carefully lifting a jammed printer tray, muttering curses under her breath. She has this way of being simultaneously adorable and fierce, he thought.

When she laughed at his “backup strategy” message, he pictured her little smirk, the glint of mischief in her eyes. Even across oceans, she draws me in.

He could see Raghav glaring, a towering figure in the chaos, and Ishita swapping files just to watch Aanya react. And she—she handled it all with sarcastic humor and a quiet defiance that made him want to step through the screen and help.

A.: Stand strong. You are the chosen one.

He pictured her biting back laughter, nearly dropping a file, cheeks flushing slightly. She’s human. Perfectly human. Yet somehow… magnetic.

The little moments—her sighs, muttered curses, the way she juggled chaos while texting him—made him feel closer, connected, across continents.

She’s alive. She’s here. And I’m already entangled.

Back at her desk, Aanya’s phone buzzed again.

A.: Status update: printer battle ongoing?

Aanya: Printer defeated me. Coffee spilled. Paper jammed. Morale at 20%.

A.: Deploy emergency chocolate. Morale boost protocol activated.

Aanya laughed aloud. Her colleague glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” she said, eyes sparkling at the phone. Perfectly fine with him—my secret chaos partner.

The afternoon dragged, but somehow, texting A. made it lighter, almost… enjoyable. Chaos turned into adventure, small victories counted, laughter broke through stress.

Aanya slipped into the cafeteria like a secret agent on a mission. The place smelled of curry, coffee, and the faint panic of stressed coworkers. She spotted an empty corner, claimed it like a small fortress, and dropped her tray—salad untouched, because somehow eating required concentration she didn’t have.

Her laptop bag was wedged between her chair and the wall. A few pens rolled onto the floor. She muttered under her breath: Why does everything conspire to make my life dramatic?

She grabbed her phone.

A.: Status update: have you survived the battlefield?

Aanya: Printer jammed. Coffee spilled. Humanity lost.

She leaned back, scrolling through emails she would probably never get to. A stray hair fell into her eyes, and she swatted at it distractedly.

A.: Evening chaos there? Here, quiet. I survived a revolt from a coffee machine once.

She laughed quietly, attracting a curious glance from the intern sitting nearby. Focus. Don’t let anyone see you smiling at your phone like that.

Aanya: Brave or stupid. Sometimes the same thing.

A.: Brave, always brave. You’ll make it through.

Her heart skipped. He’s actually rooting for me. Across oceans. And somehow… it matters more than it should.

Aanya glanced around the cafeteria. Ishita was juggling sandwiches and gossiping loudly. Raghav’s glare made a nearby junior shuffle nervously. Everyone else seemed busy with their own chaos. She hid further into her corner, letting the tiny fortress of solitude protect her.

Aanya: Maybe I should just stay here forever. Just me, salad, and this little device that keeps me sane.

A.: If you do, I’ll send reinforcements… or at least more virtual chocolate.

She giggled, feeling warmth spread through her chest. He didn’t even know the details, yet somehow, he made it lighter. Somehow, the distance didn’t matter.

Adrian leaned against the balcony, the Valerian evening casting amber reflections on the fountains below. He imagined her—cornered in a busy cafeteria, laptop bag wedged, a stray hair falling into her eyes, fingers tapping on the phone screen.

She’s alive. She’s here. And yet, somehow, the world is trying to crush her.

He pictured her tiny fortress of solitude, shielded from coworkers, head bent slightly, laughing quietly at a screen no one else could see. She’s human. Flawed. Perfectly alive.

A.: Evening chaos there? Here, quiet. I survived a revolt from a coffee machine once.

He imagined her laughter at this message, the corners of her lips turning up, eyes sparkling. Even across oceans, she draws me in… I want to see her smile in person.

When she typed back:

Her: Brave or stupid. Sometimes the same thing.

He smiled. Always brave. Even when she doubts herself.

He could feel her heartbeat through the words. That small connection, fragile yet real, tethered him to her day in ways nothing else could.

A.: Brave, always brave. You’ll make it through.

He leaned back, picturing her in that hidden corner, chest slightly raised, shoulders relaxing for a moment, completely unaware that thousands of miles away, someone was silently guarding her through words alone.

AANYA’S POV

She sighed, scrolling through her salad, untouched except for a few bites. The cafeteria chaos seemed distant now, softened by her phone’s glow and A.’s presence.

She typed one last message before the lunch bell rang:

Aanya: Lunch survived. Human morale: restored. Chaos contained… temporarily.

A.: Excellent. Bravery points awarded: 10/10. Memo will be filed in your honor.

Aanya laughed, tucking the phone into her bag. I shouldn’t like this stranger…

But she did. And across oceans, Adrian imagined her smile, that tiny moment of joy, and felt it in his chest like a pulse.

Aanya finally slipped into her room, dropping her bag like a bomb. The chaos of the day—family, office, cafeteria—followed her only as a dull hum in the background.

She kicked off her shoes, tugged at her ponytail, and flopped onto her bed. Pajamas hugged her like a comforting cocoon, hair messy, cheeks still warm from laughing too much, typing too much, living too much.

Her phone buzzed. She didn’t even need to check the screen—it was A.

A.: Are you alive, or did your boss finally win?

She grinned, lying flat on her back, arms spread wide like she was surrendering to the world.

Aanya: Barely alive. Soul abandoned me during a meeting.

A.: I’ll find it and return it.

She laughed softly, the sound muted by her pillow. He’s protective… without even being here. Across oceans.

Aanya: Why are you so nice?

A.: Because no one else is. Not with me.

She rolled onto her side, staring at the ceiling, thinking how strange it was to feel warmth from someone who wasn’t in the same room.

Aanya: Well… I can be nice to you.

A.: That would be… new.

Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced at her phone, then at her messy bed, feeling that delicious flutter of connection. Why does he make me feel like this?

She set her phone aside for a moment, leaning back, closing her eyes. The chaos of the day melted, replaced with the glow of texts that felt like tiny secret whispers across oceans.

Aanya lay sprawled on her bed, pajamas rumpled, hair sticking to her forehead from hours of tossing and scrolling. The room was dark except for the soft glow of her phone. Somewhere in the distance, a car honked, a dog barked, but none of it mattered. All she cared about was the conversation on the screen.

A.: If I could be anywhere right now… it would not be here. Somewhere simpler. Warmer. With someone honest.

She felt a flutter in her chest. Honest… like me?

Aanya: I hope you find that place someday.

A.: Maybe I already did.

Her breath caught. The words felt weighty, real. He wasn’t just teasing, joking, or filling space. He was being honest—in a way people rarely are.

She shifted on the bed, curling her legs slightly under the blanket, gripping her phone like a lifeline. Somehow… he makes everything feel softer, warmer, like even chaos could be beautiful.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Should she say something more? Something daring?

Aanya: And that someone honest, you think… might be me?

She almost deleted it. Almost. But she didn’t.

ADRIAN’S POV

Adrian leaned against the balcony railing, the Valerian night settling over the city. Lights flickered below, fountains shimmering in the moonlight. He pictured her in that small room in India—lying on her bed, hair messy, eyes soft, heart open.

Her: And that someone honest, you think… might be me?

His chest tightened. She’s asking. She’s daring. Across oceans, her words reached him like a pulse, fast and real.

A.: Yes. Maybe it’s you.

He imagined her smile when she read it, cheeks flushing, hands trembling slightly over the phone. She doesn’t even know how much she’s already tangled me.

A.: I think about you more than I probably should. And somehow… I don’t mind.

The admission was quiet, unassuming, but heavy. He could almost feel her heartbeat echoing his own, a rhythm of connection threaded through distance.

AANYA’S POV

Aanya stared at the screen, heart fluttering. He thinks about me? Across oceans? And he doesn’t mind?

Aanya: I… I think about you too.

A pause. Her finger hovered over the screen, unsure if she wanted to send more. Vulnerability was dangerous. And yet—somehow—it felt necessary.

A.: Good. I like that. Very much.

She laughed quietly, a small, nervous, delighted sound. Her room felt smaller, cozier, as if the conversation itself had wrapped her in warmth.

Aanya: You make it… easy to talk to you. Dangerous, but easy.

A.: That’s the plan. Dangerous, memorable, unavoidable.

Her cheeks burned. She hid the phone beneath her pillow, then peeked, then laughed again. Unavoidable… he’s teasing me, yet every word feels like it touches me.

Quiet Confessions

Minutes stretched into hours. Messages came in bursts and pauses—words that teased, comforted, dared, and reassured.

A.: If I could hold a moment in my hands right now… it would be this one. Quiet. Yours. Mine. Just like this.

Aanya’s eyes softened. She imagined him, leaning against a balcony, moonlight on his face, thinking about her, feeling the same pull she did.

Aanya: Then let’s steal it. Just for tonight.

A. paused. Then:

A.: Done. But only tonight. Tomorrow chaos returns.

She grinned. Chaos is fine… if he’s on the other side of it.

DUAL POV

For a while, neither typed. They just stared at the glow of their phones, imagining each other, letting the quiet stretch between them.

Aanya: tangled in sheets, smiling, heart fluttering.
Adrian: leaning on marble balcony, chest tight, mind racing, heart full.

The distance was real. Oceans lay between them. But for these few hours, they shared a bubble of understanding, teasing, intimacy, and quiet vulnerability—a small, unspoken confession that neither was alone.

And in that silence… their hearts aligned.

Two hearts, half a world apart.
Two worlds, colliding in words, laughter, and longing.
A quiet night, a small room, a balcony under moonlight.
The connection was fragile, electrifying, and undeniable.