Nina Sharma had three rules in life:
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Never date musicians.
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Always double-check apartment listings.
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And most importantly — never, ever share a bathroom.
On a rainy Wednesday in Delhi, she broke all three.
It started with a typo.
She was supposed to move into Flat 4B — a cute one-bedroom she found on a website that looked suspiciously like Craigslist’s Indian cousin. But between juggling a broken suitcase, a leaky umbrella, and a chai cup balanced like a circus act, Nina walked into Flat 4D instead.
It wasn’t empty.
It was very much occupied — by a guy named Aarav, wearing nothing but a towel and holding a guitar like it was a weapon.
They stared at each other.
“You’re not the landlord,” she said.
“And you’re not pizza,” he replied.
Somehow, in a comedy of texts, keys, and a very confused broker named Bunty, the two ended up with the same lease.
“Great,” Nina muttered. “I’m stuck with a towel-wearing musician.”
“And I’m stuck with someone who thinks sarcasm is a personality,” Aarav said.
It was hate at first fight.
The days passed.
He played music too loud. She stuck passive-aggressive notes on his amp.
He used her almond milk. She switched his shampoo with conditioner.
He called her “Neen-bean.”
She called him “Noise pollution.”
But then one evening, she heard him singing a new song — soft, simple, beautiful.
The lyrics?
“She drinks her coffee too bitter,
Hates mornings like rain on a weekend.
But somehow she lingers...
Like the verse I didn’t know I needed.”
Nina pretended she didn’t cry. She failed.
One night, the power went out. They lit candles, ordered biryani, and talked.
He wasn’t just a musician. He taught music to underprivileged kids.
She wasn’t just a designer. She freelanced to pay for her dad’s hospital bills.
By 2 AM, the world outside was dark. But between them, something had lit up.
Months later, their lease ended.
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“Somewhere with fewer guitar solos.”
He smirked. “I can play jazz instead.”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “Fine. But I pick the playlist.”
He held out a key — this time to Flat 4B.
“Just one bathroom though,” he warned.
“I guess I can share,” she whispered.
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