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In the bustling streets of Kolkata, amidst the cacophony of rickshaw bells and the aroma of fresh jhalmuri, lived Ayan, a quiet, aspiring artist. Every morning, he would set up his easel near the Victoria Memorial, hoping to capture the city’s spirit on his canvas. One such morning, as raindrops kissed the city, Ayan noticed her. Meera, a violinist, played a haunting melody under the shade of an old banyan tree. Her music carried the warmth of love and the pang of heartbreak, pulling Ayan into a world he had only dreamed of painting. Their first meeting was serendipitous. Meera’s violin string snapped, and Ayan offered her his umbrella to shield her from the sudden downpour. “You saved my melody,” she smiled. It was a smile that stayed with him, inspiring every stroke of his brush. Over time, their friendship blossomed. They’d meet every week – Meera playing her violin as Ayan painted her portrait. With each passing moment, their hearts inter...