Chapter 3: “The Girl in the Yellow Dress”

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🏡 Flashback — 15 Years Ago, Mysore

Narayana was twelve, a quiet boy who loved books and sky-gazing. The only person who could drag him out of his shell was Pinky — the fearless girl next door.

She was fire, laughter, and sunshine wrapped in a yellow cotton dress, always running barefoot, always teasing him.

Pinky: “When you become big and boring, promise you’ll still smile for me?”

Narayana (blushing): “Only if you stay small and bossy forever.”

They buried a time capsule behind the mango tree — filled with her hair clip, his fountain pen, and a silly note:

> “To the boy who never talks,

From the girl who never stops.

Meet me here in 10 years.”

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💼 Present Day — Bangalore

Narayana Shastri, now CEO of Shastri Enterprises, never forgot her. He searched for her at every wedding, every family function — but life never brought her back.

His parents, worried about his loneliness, arranged his marriage to Neha Vishwanathan, daughter of a renowned industrialist.

They met formally at the engagement ceremony.

Neha was elegant, graceful, polite — nothing like his wild Pinky.

Or so he thought.

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💍 Engagement Night

As he adjusted his sherwani, his eyes caught her standing near the tulsi plant… humming an old Hindi song only Pinky used to sing.

His heart paused.

Later, during the ring exchange, she accidentally dropped the ring — and let out the same giggle from his childhood. He stared.

Narayana: “Have we met before?”

Neha smiled, lips trembling for a second.

Neha: “Maybe… in another lifetime.”

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🌙 That Night — Neha’s POV

She stood by the window of her new room, holding the old fountain pen from their childhood.

> “You kept your promise, Narayana… You became big and boring,” she whispered with a soft smile.

But her heart ached.

He didn’t recognize her.

And she didn’t have the courage to tell him…

That Pinky never left.

She just grew into Neha, the name the world wanted her to carry.

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💔 Next Morning

Narayana stared at a childhood photo his mother handed him while sorting old trunks.

His fingers froze.

There she was.

Pinky. Yellow dress. Hairclip.

Behind her — a name stitched faintly on the dress pocket.

“Neha V.”

His heart thundered.

He stood up, almost in panic.

“Could it be?”