The rain poured heavily, splashing against the silent streets. A young boy, Aarav, hurried through the downpour, his shoes soaked, his hair dripping, his heartbeat matching the rhythm of the storm. He was too busy shielding himself from the cold rain to notice when his wrist felt suddenly light.
Hours later, as he reached home and peeled off his wet shirt, his eyes fell on his bare wrist. The watch was gone.
Not just any watch—this was the one his girlfriend, Meera, had gifted him on their first anniversary. A piece of her heart, a reminder of their time together. His stomach sank. Panic overtook him. Without a second thought, he grabbed his umbrella and dashed back into the storm.
The streets were darker now, the rain relentless. He searched every puddle, every corner of the road. Time slipped away, but his determination never did. Three hours passed. His body trembled from the cold, yet his eyes kept scanning, desperate.
And then—he saw it. Half-buried in mud, lying lifeless under a flickering streetlight. Aarav picked it up. The watch was broken. The glass cracked, the hands frozen. But still, he held it to his chest like treasure.
Back home, fever crept into his body. His hands shook, but he refused to rest. He sat with tools, unscrewing, fixing, wiping away moisture. Every tick of effort was for her—for the promise the gift held. His body burned with weakness, yet his heart burned stronger with love.
Finally… a faint sound. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The watch came back to life.
Aarav smiled faintly, his eyes moist—not from the fever, but from the joy of reviving something that carried their love. For him, it wasn’t just about repairing a watch—it was about proving that love, when true, never gives up, no matter how broken things seem.
Moral of the Story