DEVANGAN'S ANANDINI

He is the wildfire dressed as a man— restless hands, eyes heavy with battles, a savior forged in scars and sleepless nights. He walks through her abyss like it is home, tearing down the chains of her shadows, rewriting despair into constellations of hope. In her silence, he hears hymns of survival. In her pain, he finds a reason to fight again. She is the quiet cosmos— a breath of lavender drifting through ruins, the calm tide that cradles broken ships. Her presence softens the jagged edges of his rage, turns his storm into rain that nourishes, his chaos into music only she can conduct. She does not extinguish his fire— she teaches it to dance instead of burn. Together they are paradox— his light carving her shadows, her stillness mending his fire. Not halves searching for wholeness, but two infinities colliding, remaking each other with every touch.