Chapter 1: An Ordinary Love
In the subdued suburbs of Bangalore, amidst the cacophony of daily hustle and gentle rains that frequently kissed the red-bricked rooftops, lived Vyom — a man whose life was punctuated by routine, caffeine, and keystrokes. In his early thirties, Vyom possessed an athletic build sculpted more from habit than vanity, and a face that bore the serenity of someone who had mastered the art of patience. He was a senior software engineer at a spirited Indian startup, the kind that promised unicorn status but paid in long hours and thin hopes.
Priya, his wife of nearly two years, was a luminous presence—articulate, perceptive, and endearingly tenacious. She worked as a software engineer for a multinational corporation, commanding respect with her quiet intellect and subtle grace. In her late twenties, Priya embodied a paradox: fiercely independent yet deeply sentimental.
The eve of their first wedding anniversary shimmered with quiet excitement as Vyom and Priya traced routes on the softly glowing screen of Priya’s laptop, the muted hum of Bangalore just beyond their apartment windows. The decision was made they would escape the city’s grip and surrender to the winding embrace of the road. Coorg, with its promise of mist-clad hills and serene mornings, beckoned from two hundred and fifty kilometres away. Vyom, ever the persuader, insisted on the romance of a road trip, tempting Priya with visions of chasing dawn through the Western Ghats.
Plans took shape over mugs of chai and laughter that lingered late into the night. Their anticipation grew as they mapped out stops, sunrise points, and secret anniversary surprises. Against the hush of midnight, the journey seemed not just a celebration but an adventure—one that would begin under a velvet sky and, if all went well, end bathed in golden morning light atop Coorg’s rolling hills.
As the plan came together, Vyom and Priya found themselves poring over hotel listings and travel blogs, their excitement building with each new discovery about Coorg. The allure of winding roads and misty hills was too tempting to pass up, and Vyom, with a persuasive glint in his eye, convinced Priya that a road trip was the only way to truly savour the journey. Night fell softly over Bangalore as they mapped out their route, laughter echoing through their small apartment while they debated which sunrise spot would be the most breathtaking. The distance—250 kilometres—seemed less a hurdle and more an invitation. With the prospect of watching the dawn break over Coorg’s hills, they decided: they would leave under the cover of night and chase the first light together.
The day of their journey dawned beneath a pale sweep of morning light, casting a soft glow against the windowpanes of Vyom and Priya’s modest apartment. They had both taken a half-day from work, a small rebellion in honour of their first anniversary and the adventure that awaited them in Coorg.
As Vyom returned home that evening, hands trembling with anticipation as he tucked away a small, secret gift meant to delight Priya on their anniversary. The excitement danced in his chest, a quiet prelude to the adventure ahead.
Vyom checked and rechecked their itinerary, slipping chargers and travel mugs into the last empty corners of their bags. Priya, meanwhile, fielded a gentle flurry of messages on her phone—colleagues wishing them well, friends offering last-minute suggestions for secret waterfalls and scenic detours. The anticipation was a living thing between them, a bright current crackling in their laughter and the easy comfort of their glances.
Their car—a loyal companion in countless small journeys—waited below, already packed for the miles ahead. As they locked their door and stepped into the hallway, Vyom squeezed Priya’s hand, smiling at her in the golden corridor light.
Tonight, the world belonged to them: a pair of dreamers, setting out on a road fringed with possibility, ready to chase the sunrise and the whispered promise of celebration hidden in the hills of Coorg.
Ink of Dread 
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