Rakshashi Curse #1

He hadn’t felt these things in his life.

The gentle touch of a woman’s arm as she pulled him closer, a stolen kiss by the beach as the sun set.

For the past 15 years, he had been single. “The Millennial Curse,” he called it: too late to marry, too early to love. That could be the title of his next book.

And then there was this 26 yr old. Gen Z?
Really, Gen Z, he was dating someone from an entirely different generation?

No, what did she call it again?
Situationship?
He had to look that one up. At the age of 34, he felt like a culturally extinct dinosaur, and there was this hot paleontologist woman unearthing his bones (not a double entendre).

It had been five date. No, meets, as she called them. She was the smartest woman he had ever met in his life. Okay, she was the only woman he had ever truly met. What did she see in him, a failed author whose deadline was three months overdue?

And now, the words started to flow again on the pages. He preferred pen and ink; he liked the tactile sensation.

She was sitting on his bed, reading one of his older novels, the first one he ever wrote, the one that launched him to fame. It was her fifth time reading it. He had asked her why she liked that particular one. Did she connect with the female character’s name, seeing as they both shared it—Rashmi!

Her lips moved silently as she read, a habit he found endearing. The wind blew through the open window, gently caressing her hair, sending a strand across her face. The way she tucked the stray hair behind her ear tugged at his heart.

“Why do you like that book so much? I’ve written 7 others, you know,” he asked, pointing towards his library. “It is the name, right?”

Rashmi’s eyes shone bright as she looked up. “It’s not just the name, though it does make me smile every time I read it. It’s her journey. She seemed so unsure of herself at the start, but by the end, she grows strong, confident, knowing what she wants.”

“I wrote that book at a very low point in my life,” he nodded, a pang of nostalgia hitting him. “I was still figuring things out myself. Maybe that’s why it connects with you.”

“It’s more than that,” she said, carefully setting the book aside. “The way you captured her emotions, her struggles. It feels real. It feels like you looked into my life for inspiration.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never been able to find that voice again. That was my magnum opus.”

She slid off the bed and walked over to him, soft and graceful. “You will find it. You just have to believe in yourself again.”

“You know it’s not as easy as you make it sound,” he said, though her encouragement was already having its effect. A feeling of warmth rose in him.

“It’s not,” she replied with a wink. “But you’ve done it before, and you’re not alone this time.”

Her words lingered in the silent room. It was a promise, a challenge. He took her hand in his, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead on it.

“Thank you,” he whispered sincerely. “For being here, for believing in me.”

“Always!” She squeezed his hand, a soft smile on her face.

They stood like that for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, Rashmi pulled him toward the door.

“You need a break. Let’s go walk by the beach,” she said.

“Alright, lead the way!”

As they stepped outside, he hesitated to put his arm around her, though he wanted to. Rashmi’s presence had a calming effect on his soul. They walked in silence.

“So,” she said when they were close enough to feel the sea breeze, “what’s the story of the next book?”

“You’re not going to let me rest, are you?” he laughed.

“No chance,” she grinned. “I’m really curious, tell me!”

“It’s about a man who lost his way. Gave up on love, on his dreams,” he looked at her. “He meets someone who changes everything. She inspires him, challenges him, makes him write again.”

Rashmi’s eyes filled with understanding. “Sounds like a story worth telling. What are the leads called?”

“It is a story worth telling,” he nodded. “I’m going to name her after my first protagonist- Rashmi. As for him, I might be vain enough to name him after myself- Kunal”