Mumbai.

A city that sparkled in the daylight…

but transformed completely when night fell.

They didn’t call it the city of dreams for nothing.

Because within its chaos lived countless eyes—

each carrying dreams unknown,

hopes unspoken,

and stories waiting to unfold.

Among those countless eyes…

were hers.

Simran Rastogi.

Eyes the color of a soft, pale blue—

so captivating that anyone who met them would forget to look away.

Sunset Beach.

It was night, yet the beach was alive—

buzzing with laughter, footsteps, and distant voices,

as if the night itself refused to rest.

Amidst that chaos…

stood a girl.

She wore a light orange suit, simple yet elegant,

her figure still against the restless waves.

The ocean kissed her feet gently,

only to retreat again—

as if even the sea hesitated to stay.

Her long, black hair flowed freely,

falling past her waist,

dancing in the soft breeze like strands of silk.

She stood there quietly…

lost in something deeper than the ocean before her.

Peaceful.

Yet distant.

“Simran!”

A voice broke the silence behind her.

She turned.

And in that moment—

her face came into view.

A face so delicate, so breathtaking…

that it could make anyone forget how to breathe.

A faint, graceful smile rested on her lips—

the kind that could stop hearts without trying.

Her thick lashes framed those mesmerizing blue eyes,

as if they carried stories no one had ever read.

Some beauty cannot be described—

not even by the finest poets.

Simran was one of them.

“You’re finally here, Purva,” she said softly, smiling.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Purva huffed dramatically, making a face.

“I was on my way,” she complained,

“but my stupid scooty broke down midway!”

Simran let out a soft laugh.

“Don’t make that face,” she teased gently.

“Come on, let’s go. It’s already late… and it’ll take time to get back.”

With that, she stepped forward.

Purva followed.

The two girls soon rode off on their scooty,

heading back home through the glowing streets of Mumbai.

They weren’t originally from this city.

They had come here chasing education…

but somewhere along the way,

Mumbai had become their home.

Both were independent, strong, and passionate about their work.

Simran—an architect.

Precise. Creative. Controlled.

Purva—a fashion designer.

Expressive. Bold. Full of life.

Different… yet perfectly balanced.

After nearly an hour, they finally reached home.

Dinner was already done,

so without much conversation,

both retreated to their rooms.

The night passed quietly.

Next Morning.

Simran stood in front of the mirror.

Her expression was blank.

Cold. Distant.

She stared at her own reflection as if it didn’t belong to her.

Slowly, she spoke—

“All of this… because of this face.”

A pause.

“I’ve already lost too much…

I don’t have the strength to lose anything more.”

She took a deep breath.

Then reached for a mask lying on the table.

Wearing it, she covered half her face—

leaving only her pale blue eyes visible.

But even that wasn’t enough.

She picked up her glasses and wore them,

trying to hide what could never truly be hidden.

Her beauty.

Her identity.

Her past.

In the hall, Purva waited.

The moment Simran stepped out, she sighed.

“Again? The mask and glasses?” she said, frustrated.

“Girls pray to God for beauty so they can show it to the world…

and you—”

She shook her head.

“You hide yours like it’s a curse.”

Simran interrupted quickly,

“I’m not interested in showing my beauty.

Especially not at my workplace.”

Her tone was firm.

“Come on, let’s go. We’re getting late.”

Purva sighed deeply.

In her heart, a quiet thought lingered—

This girl never listens to me…

How long will this go on?

How long will she keep hiding herself like this?

She shook her head in silent frustration…

and followed Simran.

Some secrets are hidden by choice.

And some…

by fear.

But no secret stays buried forever.

And soon—

someone was going to uncover hers