Sarangheayo – Korean-Indian Love Story

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 11 — Homecoming (Finale) The chaos of that night faded, but its echoes remained. Min-jae’s betrayal had spread across headlines in Korea the next morning. His father’s empire began to crumble, swallowed by scandal. For once, the world saw the truth. But Ji-woo and I didn’t care about the noise. We cared about us. The hospital discharged me within weeks. My body was weak, but my soul felt alive for the first time in years. Ji-woo never left my side. She sat through my therapy sessions, cheered me when I struggled, and laughed when I made stupid jokes just to see her smile. Some nights, I woke up sweating, haunted by the accident. But whenever I reached out, Ji-woo’s hand was always there. Warm. Steady. Real. And slowly, the darkness faded. One month later, I took her home. Mumbai greeted us with it...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanficti The Night of the Accident  on inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 10 — The Storm (Sumedh’s POV) The night of Ji-woo’s engagement arrived like a funeral in disguise. The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and crystal glasses, the elite of Seoul gathered to toast a union built on power, not love. Musicians played softly in the background, but beneath the polished surface, I could feel the tension—like thunder waiting to break. And into that storm… I walked. I wasn’t invited. I wasn’t welcome. But I wasn’t afraid. As I stepped through the grand doors, murmurs spread like wildfire. Guests whispered, shocked to see the boy from Mumbai who wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. Ji-woo’s eyes found me instantly across the room. She froze, the wine glass slipping slightly in her hand. Min-jae followed her gaze. And when he saw me, his...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 9 — Before the Storm (Sumedh’s POV) The city lights blurred outside the taxi window. My fists were clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. Every second felt heavier, knowing Ji-woo was slipping further away into a life she didn’t choose. I had to see her. One last time—before they caged her completely. With Hae-rin’s help, I found my way to Ji-woo’s family home. Guards stood near the gate, the house lit like a palace preparing for celebration. But Ji-woo wasn’t celebrating. She was mourning. I could feel it. Hae-rin whispered, “There’s a side entrance to the garden. She goes there at night, to breathe.” I slipped in, heart hammering. And there she was—dressed in a pale hanbok, her face ghostly under the moonlight. She was arranging flowers for her own wedding. “Ji-woo,” I whispered. Her hands...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 8 — The Hidden Enemy (Sumedh’s POV) Her words haunted me. “Forget me. Please.” But I couldn’t. Not when every beat of my heart screamed her name. Not when I knew the way she trembled in my arms wasn’t hate — it was love she was too afraid to claim. Hae-rin found me the next morning, staring at the Han River where Ji-woo and I had once danced under moonlight. “She pushed you away, didn’t she?” she asked quietly. I nodded, jaw tight. “But she’s lying. I saw it in her eyes.” “Then why?” I turned to her, determination burning. “Because someone is forcing her. I need to know who.” With Hae-rin’s help, I began asking questions. Old contacts from the festival, journalists, even taxi drivers from that night. Most gave vague answers, but one name kept returning, like poison in the water. Min-ja...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 7 — Ji-woo’s Secret (Ji-woo’s POV) The moment I walked away from him, my chest split open. The rain hid my tears, but nothing could hide the truth inside me— I still loved him. More than anything. But love wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Seven years ago, I had been reckless. A volunteer, just meant to guide the Indian team… but I let myself fall. Into his eyes. Into his smile. Into a dream that was bigger than borders. And then the dream shattered with broken glass and blood on asphalt. When the doctors said he might never wake up, my parents turned cold. “See what happens when you chase illusions?” my father had said. “You ruined his life, and nearly yours. Enough is enough.” For two years, I fought them. I lived in the hospital, clinging to his hand, whispering saranghaeyo into his silence. I b...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 6 — The Reunion (Sumedh’s POV) I couldn’t breathe. The words “arranged marriage” felt like a blade pressed against my throat. Ji-woo. My Ji-woo. Promised to someone else. I grabbed Hae-rin’s wrist. “Where is she? Take me to her. Now.” “Sumedh—” she began, but stopped when she saw the fire in my eyes. She sighed. “Fine. But if you go… nothing will ever be the same again.” That night, Seoul streets glowed under soft rain. Hae-rin led me to a quiet riverside park. “She comes here when she wants to be alone,” Hae-rin whispered. And there she was. Ji-woo sat on a bench under a lamp, an umbrella resting on her shoulder. She was gazing at the Han River, its waters shimmering with city lights. For a moment, I just stood there. My legs were heavy, my chest hollow. After all these years, I had ima...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 5 — Back to Seoul (Sumedh’s POV) Mumbai airport was buzzing, but inside me, there was only silence. Seven years had slipped through my fingers, yet one truth burned brighter than everything else— Ji-woo. I was going back to where it all began. “Are you sure about this?” Punyakar asked, his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were heavy with concern. I smiled faintly. “I was a dancer, Punya. Falling and standing up again is what I do. And this time, I’m not just dancing for myself.” He looked at me for a long time before nodding. “Then go. Find her. And when you do… don’t let go again.” The flight was long, but sleep never came. Every time I closed my eyes, fragments of memory flickered. Ji-woo’s laughter echoing through dance studios. Her hand brushing mine during rehearsals. Her whisper in the dark— ...

   Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 4 — The Night Unfolds (Sumedh’s POV) Her words echoed inside my skull. Not an accident. I stared at Hae-rin, the letter still trembling in my hands. “What do you mean? What happened to me? What happened to Ji-woo?” She sat down carefully, as if weighing every word. “You don’t remember, so I’ll start from the beginning.” Flashback: Seoul, Five Years Ago I had flown to Korea as part of an international cultural exchange. Mumbai’s best young dancers had been invited to perform at the Seoul International Dance Fest . At first, it was just competition—bright lights, endless rehearsals, fierce rivals. And then I met her. Ji-woo. She wasn’t a contestant. She was a volunteer translator for the Indian team. But she knew more about dance than most performers. Her curiosity was endless, her laughter contagiou...

  Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 3 — The Stranger from Seoul (Sumedh’s POV) The smell of antiseptic had become my prison. Every beep of the monitor was a chain. So when the doctor finally said the words “You’re fit to be discharged” , my chest filled with a strange mix of relief… and fear. Two years in a coma. Five years erased. And I was stepping back into a world I no longer recognized. Punyakar drove me home. Mumbai looked the same, yet utterly different. Skyscrapers had grown taller, billboards flashed faces I didn’t know, and the music on the radio carried rhythms I couldn’t follow. Inside my apartment, dust coated everything. My dance trophies, photographs, posters—each one a fragment of a man I barely remembered being. I walked slowly to the mirror. The man staring back was leaner, older. His eyes had shadows no stage l...

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Episode 2 — The Photograph (Sumedh’s POV) The doctor’s words kept ringing in my ears. Seven years. Two years of coma. Five years gone. But something else echoed louder than all of that. Saranghaeyo. Why did that voice still cling to me like a shadow? The next morning, sunlight spilled through the hospital curtains. Punyakar sat beside my bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked older than I remembered—lines of worry etched on his face—but his smile was the same when he noticed me awake. “Breakfast?” he asked softly, holding out a tray. I pushed it away. “No. I need answers.” He sighed. “I knew this was coming.” “Tell me everything. From the moment I… disappeared.” Punyakar hesitated. Then he pulled something out of his backpack. A folder. He opened it and slid a photograph onto my blanket. I froze. It...

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Chapter 1 — The Voice (Sumedh’s POV) I was standing in the middle of a road. Or… at least, I thought it was a road. The darkness around me was so heavy that it felt like ink had swallowed the world. No moon. No stars. No houses. No trees. Just an endless stretch of black tar beneath my feet. My breath echoed in the silence. “Where… am I?” I whispered, my voice trembling. I looked around, hoping for something—anything—that made sense. That’s when I heard it. “Saranghaeyo… Saranghaeyo… Saranghaeyo…” The voice was soft at first, almost a whisper in the wind. But with each repetition, it grew louder. Closer. Surrounding me from every direction. I spun around, searching for the source. Nothing. Just that voice. It kept repeating, faster now, until the sound became sharp and piercing, like glass in my ears. I pressed my p...