Dil Ke Karib (early acess Ch 1)

Rajeev had never known the weight of consequence. Not at eighteen.
Life had always been handled for him—by his father, by his elder brother. Responsibility was a word, not a reality.
He was happy. Free. A boy on borrowed time, floating through a world that hadn't yet asked anything from him.

The April sun hung heavy in the sky, spilling warmth over the dozing village.
Old men napped on charpais, women sat behind drawn curtains, and the fields—usually alive with voices—stood silent under the weight of rest.

Rajeev released his new kabutar, watching it flap awkwardly into the air like it wasn't sure what freedom meant.
He laughed, chasing it barefoot through the dust. A boy in a man's body, with nothing to lose. Nothing yet.

Life was simple. Almost insultingly so.

With sugarcane in his hand and a smile on his face, Rajeev felt a sense of contentment wash over him. The sweetness of the sugarcane juice mixed with the warmth of the sun on his skin, creating a moment of pure bliss in the midst of his simple village life.

Until he heard a sound that didn't belong to a lazy afternoon.

A scream—choked and wrong. Not loud, but sharp enough to split the silence.

He stilled, eyes narrowing toward the edge of the wheat fields, where the shade of a banyan tree curled like a secret. No one ever went there during rest hours. That's why it was perfect—for shame to hide in plain sight.

Maybe one more shameless act was about to unfold, shattering the tranquility of his village.

He wanted to catch the perpetrator in the act to protect his community from further harm. With a deep breath, he mustered his courage and silently made his way towards the source of the disturbance, determined to confront whatever darkness lurked beneath the banyan tree.

He stepped closer.

And as if his world had suddenly shifted, he saw a figure hunched over, digging frantically in the ground.

Nandini.

The girl with silence in her eyes and thunder in her bones. The same girl he'd admired from a distance for months—the way she walked alone with her chin up, the way she didn't bow her head for anyone, not even him.

Now she stood trembling, pushing away the hand of a boy laughing in her face.

Who the hell is he?

He couldn't see his face, but the voice—the stance—felt familiar.
Why did he recognize him?

"I'm not going to marry you," he scoffed, brushing invisible dust off his shirt that seemed quite uncommon for a villager to wear. Is he from the city? "You think a girl like you—poor, uneducated—could be good enough for me?"

Nandini's lips quivered. "But you said—"

"I said a lot of things," the man said, smiling like it was all a joke. "You were stupid enough to believe them. That was your fault."

Nandini clenched her fist. What she thought was love had been nothing but manipulation and deceit.

"You gave yourself for a promise," he whispered. "Now look at you. Spoiled. And stupid enough to believe I ever meant it."

Her eyes flared. She slapped him—hard enough to echo through the trees.
"That fire's cute," he said. "Too bad no one's going to want burnt remains."

Rajeev wanted to go and punch that bastard, but his kurta got stuck in one vine, slowing him down.

And just when he was about to beat the hell out of that man, he lost him; he was nowhere to be seen.

How did I miss him? Rajeev cursed, clenching his fist in frustration.

Rajeev stood frozen. Something inside him cracked—not because of what he'd seen, but because of the look on her face.

Nandini sank to the ground, fists full of dirt, sobbing like she had no air left in her. It was like the world had finally taken the last thing she had—her belief that she mattered.

Rajeev didn't think.
He walked toward her, heart pounding, and pulled the red gamcha from his neck.
"Here," he said softly, draping it over her shoulders like a shield.
Nandini looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembling.
"Did... did you hear?"
He nodded.
She folded in on herself and tried to run, but her legs wouldn't listen.
He reached for her—just to steady her. Just to be there.
And that... was enough.

Two women, returning early from the well, saw them.
A girl in tears. A boy crouched too close. A red gamcha—his—wrapped around her like a confession.
That was all it took.
Whispers flew faster than pigeons.

By sunset, they were dragged to the panchayat.

"He didn't touch me—please, I was the one—"
"Bas!" The elder's voice cracked through the air. "Spare us your shameless lies."

He stayed silent.
Because if he spoke, they'd shatter what little she had left.
Sometimes silence isn't weakness.
It's the last kindness you can offer in a world that punishes truth.

*****

_{Get ready for the next chapter, Chapter 2: The Weight of Consequence, dropping live in the next 12 hours. It’s a raw one—full of heartbreak, truth, and the heavy burden of choices. Stay tuned... and prepare to feel.}

Author's Note 💔✨

Hey you... yes, YOU reading this!

First of all—thank you for making it to the end of Chapter 1 of Dil Ke Karib 🕊️
You've just witnessed the moment everything changed for Rajeev... and maybe felt a little of that crack in your own chest too.

This chapter was hard to write.
It's not just drama. It's reality—for too many people.
Nandini isn't just a character. She's every girl who was made to feel small, every voice that was shut down before it could scream.
And Rajeev? He's learning the hard way that sometimes silence says more than words ever could.

If you're hurting after reading this—you're not alone.
If you're angry—good. That means your heart's still beating where it matters most. ❤️‍🔥

This is just the beginning... more secrets, more love, more heartbreak, and maybe—just maybe—a little bit of healing too. 🌿

Let me know what you felt in the comments 💬👇
Yell. Cry. Rant. I'll be reading every word 🫶

Thank you for reading with your whole heart.
I love you for that. Truly.
– Shaar Shree.

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