What is love?

Note: This is not a story chapter or prologue. It's a conversation between the author and the characters, exploring their thoughts on love before the story begins. I sneaked into their unsettled settings to talk to them. This part is not directly related to the story. though I may incorporate some parts into the narrative. However, this section remains separate from the main story. Let's begin ,

Love-a combination of emotions and butterflies. What do you think about it? Isn't it beautiful? The way it makes you feel butterflies in your stomach when you haven't eaten, how it makes your heart race without running, how it takes your breath away without suffocating you. Love brings emotions like anxiousness, jealousy, eagerness, desperation, and desire. Aren't they all beautiful?

Love can make you climb mountains you thought you'd never cross, realize needs you never knew you had. Desperation in love can be as small as wanting a single glance, a fleeting eye contact. Jealousy in love might come when your partner is near someone else. Shouldn't love include trust instead of jealousy?

There are many shades of love: one-sided love, silent love, love at first sight, love at second sight, love that lasts forever. Love can turn friends into lovers, strangers into lovers, even enemies into lovers. Isn't it wonderful how love can transform relationships?

Instead of me explaining more, let's hear from the characters of this story. Hi, I'm Harman, the author. Before we start the story, let's get to know the characters' views on love.

Let's begin with our FL, Harman. She might take time to explain since she only opens up to those she's close with. How about starting with Rudra instead? He doesn't like love, does he? He'll probably say it's a waste of time in one or two lines. Still, let's ask him-if we can find him but , where he is?

Oh, there he is, as always, busy with his files and stuck in traffic. Should we ask him? What if he's in a bad mood and takes it out on us? Let's just go for it. Fingers crossed.

"Rudra" I called.

"Hmm?" he replied.

"Can I ask you something?" I inquired.

"Sure," he replied.

"Really?" I asked, shocked and not believing my ears.

"Ask before I change my mind," Rudra said, still looking through his file.

"What do you think of love?" I asked instantly.

"Why does it matter?" he replied.

"Why not?" I countered.

"Because in the end, it's going to be whatever you say. What I think doesn't matter; you're the one who decides," he replied.

He and his taunts. "I'm serious, Rudra. Okay, tell me before I push my thoughts on you."

"You already know, author. I'm not interested in love. I don't have time for it. You made me in such a way that I can't even think of it," he said.

"Still, Rudra, just tell me, even if it's just one line. Just tell me what you think of it," I insisted.

"Love is care, trust, and respect for your family," he replied.

"I'm not asking about that kind of love," I said, my frustration evident. "I'm talking about the love one has for a partner."

"Intimate love? Read about it on the internet or Wattpad, better places for it," Rudra said, mocking.

"Shut up," I said, making a straight face. "You're just dragging out our conversation. I need to move on and ask the other characters too. Just answer. You already know what I'm actually asking. We have this much understanding at least, come on," I urged.

"Fine," he said, closing his file with a sigh. He looked around while saying, "Love is..." and then he stopped speaking.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Love is her," he replied.

"Wh-" I began, but then stopped when I realized who he was pointing at.

It was Harman. She was sitting on a park bench under the shade of a flowering tree. The gentle breeze blew, causing flowers to fall like snowflakes. She was absorbed in a book, listening to music through her headphones. She sat alone, with a rose lying beside her on the bench.

Rudra had never seen a girl as beautiful as her. She was beyond the definition of perfection. Her innocence added to her charm. She wore a white dress that perfectly complemented her fair skin, enhancing her look. Her long hair was gently blown by the breeze, playing with her strands. The scene around her was like a dream. She had a perfect figure, neither slim nor fat, resembling a goddess. Though not very tall, her dress made her appear statuesque. She was so engrossed in her book and music that she seemed completely unaware of the world around her.

"Love is like her: innocent, soft, elegant, lost," Rudra was saying when Harman accidentally dropped her phone.

"Clumsy," he added with a smile.

"Is that so?" I said.

"What's her name, author?" he asked.

"Why?" I replied.

"Just curious," he said, still looking at her.

"Are you interested in her?" I asked, teasing him. Knowing already, as if he had a choice not to be interested.

"Kind o-" he started but then shut his mouth.

"What?" I asked.

"Who is she smiling at?" he asked.

Both of our eyes landed on Amit. Of course, Rudra didn't know about Amit and Harman yet.

"Oops, he shouldn't have come yet. I wasn't done yet," I thought to myself.

Upon seeing Amit, Harman got so excited. We'd have to ask them later. She was so thrilled that she quickly got up, not realizing what was on her lap, and once again, everything fell-her bag, her book, her phone, everything.

"Oops," she shrugged her shoulders and said.

"Cute," Rudra said with a smile.

Harman started picking things up, and Amit helped her. He was holding a bouquet of roses behind his back; it was a surprise for Harman, of course.

"Who is he?" Rudra asked, and I sensed a bit of desperation to know. Just like I said, love is desperation.

They placed the stuff on the bench and stood facing each other. We couldn't hear them yet, but we could see clearly.

Harman raised her eyebrow, asking Amit how she looked.

"Ask me, perfect," Rudra replied instead.

Amit brought his hand near his neck and made a throat-cut gesture with his thumb.

"Did he just call her a killer?" Rudra said.

"In a romantic way, idio-" I started to say idiot, but his dangerous eyes made me shut my mouth.

Amit placed his hand on his heart, closed his eyes, and pretended to die while falling back. He almost lost his balance, but Harman held his arm, stopping him from falling and pulling him back.

"Cute," I said.

"Childish," Rudra said, giving me a dangerous look. I felt a pang of jealousy. Come on, bro, you're not related to her yet.

Harman noticed Amit was hiding something behind his back. She tried to look, but Amit hid it even more. She raised her eyebrow again, asking what it was.

"Can she not speak?" Rudra commented.

"What rubbish, Rudra!" I said, angered by his remark.

"Why are they talking with their hands and eyebrows?" Rudra asked.

"That's called love language. In love, people understand each other without speaking. They don't need words; their eyes and bodies do the talking," I explained.

"You and your philosophy," Rudra muttered.

Harman tried to see what Amit was hiding, but he wasn't giving it to her. She made a sad face and pouted, crossing her arms and pretending to be hurt.

Rudra leaned on the window, placing his hand under his chin. A smile crept on his face as he watched Harman. "Adorable," he commented.

"Ahem, isn't it inappropriate to stare at someone else's girlfriend?" I said, clearing my throat.

"Why didn't you fix her with me?" Rudra asked, giving me his dangerous eyes.

"Do you want me to do that?" I asked excitedly.

He didn't reply and just looked at them, spoiling my fun.

Seeing Harman sad, Amit got closer to her. A bright smile crept on Harman's face when Amit brought out a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. She quickly took them and inhaled their fragrance, then pretended to die and fell back, just like Amit had done. He caught her just as she had caught him.

"Aren't they so dramatic?" Rudra said.

"Just made for each other," I said, giggling.

Rudra looked at me with a blank face, making me shut up.

We turned our gaze back to Amit and Harman. She released herself from his arms and placed his bouquet on the bench. She picked up her rose from the bench and moved toward Amit. Though he had already seen it, as soon as Harman got the rose in her hand, she hid it behind her back. Amit noticed her intent and pretended to look around, indulging her fantasy so she could surprise him just as he had surprised her.

She got near him, and he put his arms behind his back, just looking at her. She smiled at him. He raised his eyebrows, asking, "What?" She did the same. He tried to look behind her back, and she mimicked him, hiding the rose. He kept looking, and she tried to hide it, but he started playfully snatching at her arm to get it. She refused, tightening her grip on the rose, determined not to give it up easily. She was laughing while he pretended to try hard to get it, feeding into her fantasies. Finally, she brought the rose in front and offered it to him.

"I want it," Rudra extended his hand out of the car, trying to grab the rose from a distance.

This time, I gave him a side-eye.

Amit took the rose, inhaled its fragrance, and smiled. He grabbed her hand and inhaled the fragrance of her hand.

"What is he doing?" Rudra asked.

As Amit inhaled her scent, he pretended to die again. Harman smiled.

"Aww," I said, looking at the scene. She definitely smelled better than roses.

"That was cheesy. Are they teenagers? Why are they acting like this?" Rudra said.

"Why don't you just admit you're jealous because you don't have someone to try stuff like this with?" I said.

"I'm not even interested," Rudra said, but his eyes told a different story as he looked at Harman.

"Oh, they're leaving," I said.

Amit grabbed Harman's hand, and they started to leave.

"They left," I said sadly. I wanted to see more of them.

Suddenly, Rudra got out of the car.

"Where are you going?" I asked, but before my voice could reach him, Rudra had already taken off running.

"Where did he go?" I wondered as I watched him head toward the park bench where Harman had been sitting.

He picked something up from the bench. Curious, I got closer and saw it was Harman's book.

"Oh, she forgot it," I said.

Rudra opened the book and read her name on the first page.

"Harman, just as beautiful as her ," he said with a smile.

"Your smiling like that makes me worried," I said.

"Can't you see me happy?" he retorted.

"I would love to see you happy, Rudi, even more than this," I said with a pout.

"Then go and plan her entry into my life," Rudra said and left, leaving me all alone in the park.

"Not this early," I muttered.

The traffic had cleared, so Rudra left.

Now, where should we go? Shall we join Harman and Amit and ask their opinion on love? What if they're busy in their love world? I shouldn't interrupt them, but I want to know-I can't sleep without knowing. Let's just go.

........

Amit opened the car door for Harman.

"Thank you," she said as she seated herself.

Harman was inhaling the scent of the roses. The spark in her eyes showed how much she liked them, making Amit smile at her happiness.

"Are you ready for a surprise?" he asked Harman.

"I can't wait!" Harman replied with excitement.

"Let's go then," Amit said and was about to start his car when he was interrupted by a knock on the window.

Harman rolled down the window.

"Hello, Amit and Harman," I said.

"Hi, Author," they replied in unison.

"Are you going on a date?" I asked.

"We're past that stage," Harman said, showing me her engagement ring.

"Oh, nice, nice," I said.

"Okay, Author, we need to go," Amit said.

He was about to drive off, almost stepping on my feet.

"Hey, wait, wait, wait," I said.

"What is it, Author?" Amit and Harman gave me irritated looks.

"I want to ask you guys something," I said.

"Ask later; we're already late," Amit said, stepping on the gas pedal. I moved back a little, not wanting to get injured. I knew he was desperate to spend time alone with Harman, but that didn't mean he should hurt others in the process.

"Not later. I'm only here for today. Once the story starts, I won't be able to ask you guys," I said.

"What do you want to ask?" Harman asked.

"Harman, we're late," Amit said in a serious tone.

"She's the author, Amit. We should give her some time," Harman said.

"Aww, that's my sweetheart," I said.

"So, what do you want to ask?" Harman asked me.

"What do you guys think of love?" I asked.

"I'll text you. We're late, so let us go. Don't spoil our mood," Amit said, getting impatient to take Harman away.

"I won't eat your Harman, just asking. I told you I'm only here for today," I said, feeling sad that he wouldn't even give me a little bit of time when I was going to spend months writing their story.

"Don't be sad, Author. We'll tell you our points of view," Harman said in the sweetest tone ever.

"But we're late, Harman. We need to reach on time. If we don't move now, there's a high chance we'll get stuck in traffic," he said.

"Don't worry, Author. Why don't you join us, and we can talk on the way?" Harman suggested.

"Aww, thank you," I said, feeling touched. She was such a sweetheart that I might end up falling in love with her myself.

"No, Harman. She'll destroy our fun. I don't want a third party between us," Amit said in frustration.

"Don't be so harsh, Amit. It's just a short conversation. We can still enjoy our time together," Harman said gently, trying to calm him down.

Amit sighed but finally relented. "Fine, but make it quick, Author."

"No, Harman, she'll ruin our fun. I don't want a third party between us," Amit said in frustration.

"Chill, bro. I'm not going to stay long. I'll just ask my question and leave. I won't spoil your date or whatever," I said. If he was irritated, so was I. If he had just agreed to answer, we might be finished by now. I was in a hurry, not because I had someone to go on a date with but because I still needed to ask Ashwin's view, too. This part was getting too long due to random talks. I hoped it wouldn't bore the audience who read it.

"Get in, Author," Harman said.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said.

I tried to open the backseat door, but it was locked. I saw Amit's hand on the lock.

I still tried, but it wouldn't budge.

"What happened, Author?" Harman asked. "Why aren't you getting in?"

"Because your boyfriend isn't allowing me," I said.

Harman looked at Amit and saw what he was doing.

"Come on, Amit, she's the author. We shouldn't be doing this," Harman said.

He just looked at her, not removing his hand from the lock.

"Amit, open the door, or we aren't going anywhere," Harman said, making me feel proud that she stood up for me.

"But, Harman," Amit protested.

"It's final," she said, determined.

Amit looked at me, and I couldn't shake off the pride on my face.

"Fine," Amit said, taking his hand off the lock.

I got inside the car. "But promise you'll leave soon," he asked me.

"As soon as I get my answer, I will, for sure," I said.

We decided to talk on the way.

"Should I play some music?" Harman asked.

"It's already playing," Amit replied. Harman and I looked at him.

"No, it's not," Harman said.

"Tumhari awaaz, best music. It's already playing," he said.

( Your voice, best music, it's already playing.)

"Aww, flirting, flirting," I said, seeing Harman's cheeks turn pink with blush.

She was trying so hard not to laugh. They were deeply lost in each other's eyes, talking with their eyes again.

"You guys should limit this eye talk," I said.

"And why so?" Amit asked while driving.

"One of the characters asked me if you guys can't speak," I said.

"What rubbish is that?" Amit said.

"Exactly, I said the same. But what can we do? He doesn't know anything about love and its different languages yet," I said.

"So, you've already asked one character?" Harman asked.

"Yep," I replied.

"So, what is love according to him?" she asked.

"You," I said out of the blue.

Amit stopped the car in shock.

"What?" he asked. I could see anger in his eyes.

"This is why I wanted to ask before starting the story. I never added you as possessive in the story. See, I found out one of your traits I didn't think of before," I said.

"What did you say? He replied that she is love?" he asked.

They both looked at me. Should I say yes? What would Harman say? But this possessive guy would start his whole list of questions: Who was he? Why did he say that? How dare you let that happen? Why didn't you tell him she is already committed? Most dangerous one: Are you plotting something? Oops .

"He didn't say that. I was going to say something else, but you interrupted me before I could speak," I lied.

Amit just looked at me. I had a feeling he wasn't buying my lie.

"Come on, I'm telling the truth," I said, but he just shrugged it off.

"We should trust her, Amit. She is the author, after all," Harman said, trying to ease the tension.

"I will kill you with my own hands if you try to separate us," he said.

His eyes were frightening, as if he really could do that.

"I will, Author. I dare you," he said.

"Fine, fine, whatever. Let's lighten the mood for now," I said, trying to change the topic.

But Amit was still glaring at me.

"Don't you think you're getting late now?" I asked.

"Oh, I forgot," he said, finally looking ahead.

"Thank God. What a tragedy-my own characters are scaring me," I said.

"Ask quickly and leave," Amit said.

We weren't getting along well, it seemed.

"You'd better get on my good list. I don't know if you could actually carry out your threats, but i could do many things without even giving a warning," I said.

"Author, calm down. He must be joking," Harman said.

"I don't think so," I replied.

The tension between Amit and me was palpable, almost like enemies.

"Okay, Author, I'll answer your question now," Harman said.

"Yeah, do it quickly so she can leave. I can't stand her," Amit said.

"Neither can I," I said.

"So, according to me, love is peace. It is fun. It is life. It is Amit," Harman said. Hearing her reply, Amit, who had been boiling with anger, turned into a cute bunny. He was blushing, feeling shy, and even hid his face.

Harman continued, "Love is care. Love is respect. Love is support. Love is a promise to stand by you no matter what the situation. Love is trust-the belief that I trust you enough to always be truthful with me, never lie, because you don't even have to. Love is acceptance of every phase: dark, ugly, beautiful, or hateful. Love is a homecoming where you forget all the sorrows you ever had and get a peaceful sleep. Love is gentle, calming your soul. Love is perfect, not caring about imperfections. Love is that beauty which can turn the ugliest thing into the most beautiful and precious."

"👏👏👏👏👏👏" I could only applaud after hearing her reply. I was speechless, and so was Amit. I knew Harman was deep, but I didn't expect this.

"What about you? What is love according to you?" I asked Amit.

"It's Harman and only Harman. Nothing more, nothing less," Amit said, looking directly into Harman's eyes.

"Okay, b-" I was about to continue, but Amit interrupted me.

"It's enough, Author. Now get off. We're late," he said.

"What, you want me to get off in the middle of nowhere? Harman, say something!" I said, trying to use Harman as leverage.

"She's right, Amit. We can't do this," Harman said.

"Then where should we drop you?" Amit asked.

I looked outside.

"Oh, I think after a few blocks there's Ashwin's house. Drop me there," I said. I had completely forgotten about him, and seeing it's already more than 3,600 words, Amit had eaten up a lot of time with his ranting and arguing with me. Why isn't he as nice to me as he is to Harman? But then again, he's a fictional character who's only good with his girl. I guess that's understandable.

"If we go there, we'll need to meet him and all, and it will take a lot of time," Amit said.

"But we can't leave without dropping her off. Also, it's not a bad idea. I want to meet him too," Harman said.

"Drop me one block behind. I'll go myself," I said to Amit. "And Harman, you should go now. Even though I'm mad at Amit, I understand his feelings. I've already taken up a lot of your time. You two should go now. You can meet Ashwin in the story all you want."

"Yep, she's right," Amit said.

"But-" Harman began to protest.

"No buts. Otherwise, I'll get off here myself," I said firmly.

"Okay, fine," Harman agreed. "Say hi to him from me."

"Sure, sweetheart," I said.

They dropped me off, and now I'm standing outside Ashwin's home. I came here, but I'm unsure if Ashwin will let me into his room. Of course, he'll let me into his home, but I want to talk to him personally and get his perspective on his feelings for Harman. He's an introvert, so I'm not sure if he'll open up to me as easily. Still, he's my character, and he should be comfortable with me. Let's just go inside and see.

I entered the house, which was completely empty-no servants, no noise. It was such a massive mansion that anyone could get lost if they didn't know their way around. I didn't realize Rudra was this rich. But let's not dwell on that right now; we'll have plenty of time to discuss it later. For now, I need to finish my conversation with Ashwin within 1,000 words. Apologies to anyone reading if this part is boring; feel free to skip ahead.

I reached Ashwin's room and was about to knock on the door when I noticed it was already open. How odd.

"Ashwin?" I called.

"Come in, Author," Ashwin replied.

I opened the door and saw him sitting on the floor near his bed, his back resting against it.

"I was waiting for you," he said.

"How did you know I was coming?" I asked.

"Rudra texted me," Ashwin explained.

"Oh, okay," I said.

Ashwin was holding a paper and pen, and around him were papers covered with Harman's drawings and letters he had written to her, expressing his feelings.

"Is it okay for me to come in? I don't want to intrude, especially since you're so sensitive about your feelings for Harman," I said politely, not wanting Ashwin to see me as a threat.

"You can come in, Author. After all, you're the one who's going to write about this, so there's no point in hiding it from you," Ashwin said.

"Fair point," I replied and entered the room.

"They're beautiful," I said as I approached the drawings. They were incredibly realistic and lovely, as if they had been drawn straight from the heart-because they truly were. My gaze shifted to the letters.

"You can read them, Author. I won't mind," Ashwin said.

"No, Ashwin, these words are only for Harman. She should be the first to read them. ," I said.

"Thank you, Author. I was a bit afraid. My feelings are overwhelming, and I worried that you might hate me for being too much," he confessed, his voice tinged with sadness.

"No, Ashwin. I would never do that. These are your feelings and emotions. How could I hate them, especially when I created you myself?" I reassured him.

"Still, Author, will I be able to confess my love to Harman before it's too late? Will she accept me? Am I not enough?" Ashwin asked, worry evident in his voice.

"You are more than enough, Ashwin. Don't say things like that. I'll make sure you confess your love at the right time, so stop overthinking," I reassured him.

"Will she accept my love?" he asked, and I struggled with how to answer without breaking his heart.

"Author, you're not replying. Does that mean she won't accept me?" he pressed.

"Let's leave that question for now. You'll get your answer as your story unfolds," I said, trying to change the subject. "Can I look around your room?"

"Sure, Author," he agreed.

His room was dark and elegant, a reflection of his personality. It was clear he was a neat freak. "It's beautiful, Ashwin," I said, admiring the space.

I noticed a large wall covered in curtains.

"Ashwin, what's behind those curtains? Is it a window or something?" I asked.

"You think a darkness lover like me would have a huge window in his room?" he replied.

"Then what is it?" I asked.

"Why don't you check it out yourself?" Ashwin suggested.

I moved forward and pulled back the curtains, revealing a sight that left me speechless. The wall was covered with pictures of Harman and letters he had written to her. In the center was a large photo of Harman smiling, as if she were smiling right at me.

Ashwin approached and added another letter to the wall. "Isn't she beautiful?" he asked.

"Indeed," I replied.

"I think I need to find a new wall," he said, eyeing the minimal space left.

"You should," I agreed.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew into the room from the window, causing all the drawings and letters on the floor to start floating in the air.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed.

"Don't worry, it happens sometimes," Ashwin said, his voice tinged with panic. Some of the letters even flew out of the window.

"Wait, I'll get them," I offered, seeing his distress.

"No, I'll do it myself," he insisted, and before I could protest, he ran outside.

I looked at the wall covered with Harman's images. "Aren't you a lucky girl to receive such a kind of love-possessive, innocent, and heartfelt?" I mused.

"I'm jealous now," I admitted.

I decided to explore further and found pairs of everything-items as if meant for couples. At the dressing table, I discovered a lot of makeup.

"Is this what I think it is?" I asked myself. I needed to check more closely.

I opened the closet and was stunned. "How could he..."

"I found the-" Ashwin began, but stopped when he saw me standing in front of the closet.

"It's his style, right? She likes wearing clothes like this, and she looks perfect in them," he said.

"Do you think they're enough?" Ashwin asked.

"She'll need them when she comes here. I want her to feel at home," Ashwin explained.

I turned to face him, contemplating the depth of his feelings and preparations for Harman.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Can't you love her a little less?" I asked.

"What? What are you saying?" he replied, confused.

"Loving her might ruin your life," I said, my voice heavy with concern.

"If it's her who's going to ruin me, I'm more than ready," he answered firmly.

"What is love to you?" I asked. I could no longer bear the weight of the conversation, but I had to get my answer. It wasn't likely I'd get another chance to speak with him like this.

"It's Harman," he said with a smile that felt like a dagger to my heart. "It's her eyes, her elegance, her voice, her smile, her long hair," he continued, lost in describing his love. "It's her small stature," he said with a fond smile. "It's her soft, pure hands, her innocence, her gentle nature. As I said, it's just Harman," he said, making direct eye contact with me.

I didn't know how to respond, how to react. His words were overwhelming.

He smiled gently. "Stop it, boy," I practically begged, unable to bear the sadness of his fate.

"What? Don't you like my definition of love?" he asked.

I moved closer and hugged him.

"What happened, Author?" he asked, puzzled.

"Regret happened," I replied, tears streaming down my face. "I shouldn't have decided your fate," I said, my tears falling onto his chest.

"Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe it was just destined to be this way," he said softly.

---

Author's Note: If you've read this far, thank you very much for your patience. I know it's lengthy; I promised it would be around 5,000 words, and it's nearing 6,000. While this may not be directly related to the story, I appreciate you sticking with it. I wrote this with all my emotions, as if I were truly talking with the characters. I let them speak for themselves, and I hope that comes through in this piece.

Ashwin's part was particularly heart-wrenching for me. I regret choosing his fate so much; I knew his love would be innocent and pure, but I wasn't prepared for how deeply I'd feel this regret. Again, thank you for reading. I could write much more, but I'll stop here.

Don't worry-chapters will not always be this long. They'll range from a maximum of 3,000 words to a minimum I can't precisely predict. It depends on the emotions I'm conveying. If you're a hopeless romantic like me, you won't get bored. I strive to bring unique elements to my writing that you might not find elsewhere.

Feel free to vote if you liked it, and I'd love your feedback, whether positive or negative-even if you think it was a waste of time. 🙊

I'd also love to hear what you think about love-whether it's real or fictional. Share your thoughts or the perspective on love from any of your characters or stories you've read. I'm a hopeless romantic who revels in the many facets of love, and I'd love to read your reflections on it. What does love mean to you?