𝗧𝘂𝗺 𝗛𝗶 𝗧𝘂𝗺 – [𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞] - 𝐂𝐇 - 𝟏𝟐 ༊˚

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कहने को जश्न-ए-बहारा है
इश्क़ ये देख के हैराँ है
कहने को जश्न-ए-बहारा है
इश्क़ ये देख के हैराँ है
फूल से खुशबू ख़फ़ा-खफा है गुलशन में
छुपा है कोई रंज फिज़ा की चिलमन में
सारे सहमे नज़ारे हैं
सोये-सोये वक्त के धारे हैं
और दिल में खोई-खोई सी बातें हैं
हो हो कहने को जश्न-ए-बहारा है
इश्क़ ये देख के हैराँ है
फूल से खुशबू ख़फ़ा-खफा है गुलशन में
छुपा है कोई रंज फिज़ा की चिलमन में

*****************************************************

The clock struck 9:00 PM. The street outside the Mishra house lay in silence, bathed in the warm yellow glow of a flickering streetlight. All homes in the lane had tucked themselves into the night except the Mishras’, where golden light spilled gently from curtained windows, hinting at life within.

Leaning against his sleek black Bullet, Aman stood like a statue carved out of stone arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the gate. He looked like the kind of guy who preferred silence over speech.

And yet, here he was. In the middle of a plotline written by a drunk chaos god.

The silence shattered with the loud, uneven growl of a scooty approaching from the far end of the lane.  Samaira striding down the road like it was her personal runway, that somehow made her look like a hurricane in human form.

 A grocery bag dangled dangerously off one arm. Three half-melting ice creams fought for survival in the other. A king-sized chocolate bar stuck awkwardly out of her mouth as she argued animatedly on the phone, trying not to drop the universe she was carrying.

“Haan haan!faltuke logo ke liye mere paas time nhi hai… Arrey, ruk…AAH!” she shouted mid-call before stumbling over a stone. She did a dramatic spin, barely saving the ice creams from tragedy. “Ugh, isko bhi aaj hi thukna tha,” she grumbled, clearly unfazed.

Then her eyes landed on him leaning against his bike like a broody hero in a tragic K-drama.

Samaira gasped, wide-eyed. “Arey WAAH! Mr. Zinda Statue! Itni raat ko? Kya hua,mujhse milne aye ho kya?”

Aman didn’t flinch. “Of course. kyu nahi tum hi kismat main likhi ho na jaise…tumse milne aunga main…chii,” he said, voice deadpan.

She fluttered her lashes with mock drama. “ouch. That sounds like a confession. But sorry yaar, main un logo ko date nahi karti jo bike ko zyada priority dete hai insano se.”

Without missing a beat, Aman replied, “tumko date karne ka shouk bhi nhi hai mujhe…i better marry my bike instead.”

“Aww,” Samaira cooed, pretending to be moved, “tumhari bike ke liye bura lag rha hai….bichari phass jayegi tumse shaadi kar ke”

Aman tilted his head toward the sky, as if appealing to the stars above. “Should’ve taken the car.”

Samaira mimicked his voice dramatically. “Should’ve taken the car… should’ve taken a new brain!…. mere ghar ke bahar kyu bhatak rhe ho?”

Straight-faced, he answered, “Priya ko pick karne aaya hoon.”

She blinked, then smirked. “Priya?! ooohhh……. Toh tum woh boring bhai ho jiske baare mein Priya roz chillati hai.”

Aman gave her a withering look. “toh…behen hai meri tumse matlb?”

Just then, the house’s wooden door creaked open. Priya stepped out, a schoolbag slung over her shoulder, followed by Aditi, who held a shawl draped over her arm.

Both girls froze on the spot.

Priya’s jaw dropped. “Bhaiya?! aap… aap dono ek dusre ko jaante ho?!”

Aditi narrowed her eyes at Samaira. “Didi, Aman bhaiya aapko pehle se kaise jaante hai? Aapne toh bola tha aap strangers ko ignore karti ho…”

“Haan ignore karti hoon,” Samaira said sweetly, giving Aman a sideways glare. “Jab tak stranger mujhe raat ke andhere mein stalk karte hue nahi milte!”

Aman sighed deeply and looked at Priya. “Aditi itni sweet hai… ek second ko laga nahi ki yeh dono behne hain.”

“WOW,” Samaira gasped, fake offended. “Toh ab meri chhoti behen pe crush bhi hai kya, dekho limit main raho apni”

“Mujhe toh MBA bhi crushed lag raha hai mera after meeting you,” he replied, voice dry as ever.

Priya groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God. This is worse than that time Papa tried TikTok.” Aditi looked between them helplessly. 

Samaira beamed. “ha meri to jaise jindagi hi sawar gayi na tumko college main paake?.”

Without blinking, Aman replied, “tum ik kaam kyu nhi karti…mujhse 10 feet ki doori kyu nhi rakhti tum….you’re a human cyclone.”

“At least I bring excitement,” she shot back smugly. “Tum toh literaly sleep paralysis bne phirte ho.”

Priya threw her hands in the air. “GUYS! Can we NOT turn this into a reality show?! i need to go home”

“Be carefull Priya,” Samaira teased. “Tujhe nahi pata ye Zinda Statue road pe bhi silence ka torture karta hai.”

Aman got on his Bullet, clearly done. “Zindagi mein kaffi wrong turns liye hai… but I must say yeh galli top pe hai,” he muttered, kicking the engine to life.

“then learn from your mistakes mr!” Samaira yelled after him. “dubara yaha ana bhi mat!”

And with a growl of the engine, Aman rode off into the night, jaw clenched, heart racing for reasons he’d never admit

The room glowed in soft lamplight. Samaira was sprawled lazily on the bed, her legs tangled in a blanket, casually scrolling through memes on her phone. She licked melted chocolate off her fingers like she hadn’t just verbally decimated someone’s soul ten minutes ago. The smug calm of a hurricane post-impact.

Into this picture of post-chaotic serenity walked Aditi, arms firmly crossed, brows arched with purpose.

“Didi. We need to talk,” she announced, her tone sharp enough to slice through the calm.

Without even glancing up, Samaira replied, “Is it about world peace, climate change, or Mr. Zinda statue?”

Aditi didn’t miss a beat. “Mr. Zinda statue AKA Priya ke bhaiya, jinke saath aap roadside WWF khel rahi thi.”

Samaira smirked, finally looking up with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Roadside kya?main to bigboss jaise reality shows main bhi kar lu ye sab.”

Aditi, not in the mood for jokes, stepped closer, voice dead serious. “How do you know Aman bhaiya?”

Samaira sighed theatrically, as if recalling the first page of a dramatic screenplay. “Well… it all began with my scooty having better aim than my love life.”

Aditi squinted at her, unimpressed. “Didi. This is serious. You were full-on roasting him like he failed your viva or stole your maggi.”

Samaira scoffed, tossing her phone aside. “HE SAID I’M A NATURAL DISASTER! Tu expect karti hai main usko ladoo offer karti?”

“I mean… no,” Aditi admitted, pausing thoughtfully, “but bhaiya ne kabhi kisi se itna muh bhi nahi lagaya. Aap dono ka toh scene hi alag chal raha hai.”

Samaira leaned in slowly, her tone suddenly low and dramatic, “Exactly! That’s what’s bothering me. Why is this ice cube suddenly melting sarcasm in front of me?”

Aditi blinked, then grinned slyly. “Ooooh. So you noticed.”

Samaira narrowed her eyes, grabbing a spoon from the side table and pointing it at her. “Shut up and eat your ice cream before I rename you”

Aditi, giggling now, flopped next to her sister with a tub of choco-chip swirl in hand because in this house, love and chaos came in equal scoops.

The road hummed under the soft thrum of Aman’s Bullet, streetlights flickering overhead like drowsy fireflies. The wind rustled through Priya as she sat behind him, arms crossed, expression simmering with unspoken chaos. The silence between them stretched long enough to be awkward until she exploded.

“AAP UNHE JAANTE THE?!” Priya suddenly shouted over the wind, her voice filled with disbelief and drama.

Aman blinked but didn’t turn his head. Calm as ever, he replied, “‘Jaante’ ka kya matlab hai… context mein batao zara?”

Priya scoffed. “Bhaiya! Aapne unhe ‘natural disaster’ bola! Road ke beech mein! Mere saamne! Aur Aditi ke bhi!”

Aman let out a sigh like he was reliving trauma. “Usne pehle din meri bike pe attack kiya tha. i can’t stand her.”

“Wah!” Priya clapped dramatically in the air. “MBA ka admission mila aur saath mein ek free lifelong dushman bhi?!”

“I came for peace here Priya,” Aman muttered like a tired monk. “Not… her.”

Priya rolled her eyes. “Waise didi itni bhi buri nahi hai. Thodi chaotic hai, okay, but cute bhi hai. Par aap dono ka toh full-on karmic rival type ka scene chal raha hai. Jaise kisi past life mein bhi lad rahe the.”

Aman replied dryly, “Correction: Wo abhi bhi meri rival hai. Is janam mein bhi.”

“Ohooo!” Priya grinned, nudging his back slightly. “Jealous lag rahe ho bhaiya… kya hua? Didi ne zyada sarcasm uda diya kya?”

Aman didn’t miss a beat. “Jealous nahi hoon. Bas… thak gaya hoon. Emotionally. Physically. Aur ab toh… spiritually bhi.”

Priya burst out laughing. “Welcome to Didi’s aura. Unka presence hi ek full-blown personality crisis hai with WiFi!”

Aman just muttered under his breath like a man on the brink, “Aur main soch raha tha yaha thodi shanti milegi”

—————————————————————-

NEXT DAY…

The school ground buzzed with muted chatter as students lined up in their morning rows. The air held the crispness of early day, with the gentle warmth of the rising sun stretching slowly across their backs. The faint hum of the microphone being adjusted and the rustle of uniforms created the usual pre-assembly chaos, familiar and routine.

In one of the middle rows stood Aditi, flanked by Shagun and Priya all three carrying the distinct expressions of students too accustomed to this monotony. 

Aditi, still sleepy-eyed, was absentmindedly retying her ponytail, her fingers moving lazily through her hair. Priya stared blankly ahead, her thoughts miles away. Shagun, on the other hand, seemed determined to create at least some entertainment out of the morning she kept nudging Aditi with her elbow for no real reason other than boredom.

Just a few lines behind them, Vivaan leaned dramatically toward the boy next to him and groaned under his breath, “Ibhaii ye roz roz kyu bula lete hai?” 

But far above the quiet chaos of the ground, standing on stage with his usual aura of discipline, was Ansh. Every breath seemed measured, every glance intentional. To anyone watching, he was simply the Head Boy doing his duty.

Until his gaze settled on her.

It was automatic, almost unconscious a habit, scanning the crowd for order. But the moment his eyes landed on Aditi, time seemed to trip over itself. She was brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear, her gaze distant, almost absent. Her brows were faintly drawn together, as if lost in a thought she hadn’t shared with anyone. She wasn’t fidgeting or restless like the others. There was a stillness in her not of boredom, but of something quieter. Like she was made of late-night thoughts and half-written poems.

Ansh’s fingers, still holding the clipboard, stilled completely.

Why did she always look like that? Lost, but never aimless. Calm, but never detached. Present, yet somehow floating beyond this setting. She didn’t even know he was watching and that made it all the more piercing.

For a split second, a warmth spread through his chest unexpected, uninvited, but impossible to ignore. A tiny smile crept onto his lips. Not the kind he gave teachers or classmates or even his closest friends. No, this smile was the soft kind. The kind meant for no one. The kind that came when the heart recognized something it wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

She didn’t look up. She didn’t know the effect she had just had on him.

But Ansh… stood there with a clipboard in one hand and a storm in his chest. And for those few, fleeting seconds nothing else mattered.

Shagun, still poking Aditi now and then just to stay awake, suddenly froze. Her eyes, wandering aimlessly out of boredom, happened to flick toward the stage and what she saw made her pause mid-breath.

“…Wait…” she murmured to herself, narrowing her eyes.

There, standing tall and composed, Ansh had just unmistakably looked in their direction. But the second Aditi glanced vaguely toward the stage, his eyes darted away almost too quickly, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Aditi blinked, confused by Shagun’s sudden stillness.

Without breaking eye contact with the stage, Shagun leaned in and elbowed Aditi. “Arrey dekh toh,” she whispered sharply. “Aditi… Ansh bhaiya was just looking this way. At you.”

Aditi frowned, squinting slightly in disbelief. “Kaun?” she asked casually.

“Ansh bhaiya,” Shagun whispered, lowering her voice instinctively as if speaking too loudly might summon divine punishment. “Head Boy. He was looking directly at you.”

Aditi let out a surprised laugh, the kind that slipped out before her brain could catch up. ” Tu pagal hai kya? Woh mujhe kyu dekhenge?” she said, brushing off the idea like a stray thread on her uniform.

But Shagun wasn’t letting it go. Her eyes narrowed further with suspicion. “Mujhe laga pehle bhi dekha tha… but ab toh pakka. He wasn’t just looking. He was smiling. Softly. Dekhte hue. Jaise…” She trailed off, like she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

Aditi, still not taking it seriously, waved a hand dismissively. “Arrey woh waise hi hote hai… serious type ke. Discipline wale. Woh kisi ladki ko nahi dekhte. He’s not into all that. Chup kar. Kuch bhi bolti rehti hai tu.”

But Shagun tilted her head, unconvinced, a slow smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned in closer and muttered under her breath, “Hmmm… ya toh tu andhi hai… ya woh dil ke shareef hain.”

And with that, she looked back at the stage, curiosity now permanently etched in her expression while Aditi rolled her eyes, completely unaware of just how much one quiet glance had stirred in someone far more composed than he ever let on.

They both giggled under their breath, muffling the sound so the teachers wouldn’t glare at them, but something had shifted. A tiny seed of curiosity had been planted in Aditi’s mind. She tried to act indifferent, but her eyes involuntarily drifted back to the stage searching, scanning, trying to catch whatever it was that Shagun had seen.

But Ansh was already looking away. His gaze was firmly planted back on his clipboard, his expression unreadable, all seriousness and school-perfect posture. It was like the moment had never happened.

A little off to the side, however, someone else on stage wasn’t so composed.

Prateek was casually scanning the students, his stance relaxed, more observational than commanding. And then his eyes landed on Priya. She was standing quietly with her hands folded, her gaze flicking toward the stage and then away just as quickly. But in that fleeting second, their eyes met.

Her face flushed instantly, and she looked down with a sharp breath, the tips of her ears turning red.

Prateek’s lips curled into a smug little smirk, and he folded his arms across his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shagun elbowed Aditi again, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Oye. Oye. Oye. Udhar bhi kuch ho raha hai!” she whispered eagerly.

Aditi followed her gaze and blinked. “Prateek bhaiya and… wait, is Priya smiling and blushing?” she said, eyes wide with disbelief.

Shagun grinned like a gossip-hungry hawk. “Arey haan! Look at that full-on stare and smile exchange.”

Aditi chuckled, nudging Shagun back. “Yeh log toh kuch zyada hi filmy nikle…”

From beside them, Priya groaned and covered her face, her cheeks now fully crimson. “I can hear you both!! Stop it! Nothing’s happening!” she hissed.

Shagun leaned in with a smug grin and a playful whisper, “Nothing’s happening yet. But hone mein kitna hi time lagta hai?”

Aditi laughed under her breath, while Priya looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole and somewhere on the stage, both Ansh and Prateek kept their eyes carefully, deliberately, elsewhere

On stage, Ansh hadn’t noticed a thing about Prateek or Priya. The world below him the shifting rows of uniforms, the droning morning announcements had all faded into a blur.

Because he was too busy pretending not to steal one last glance in her direction.

Aditi.

His eyes found her again not by accident, not by duty, but by something deeper he hadn’t yet named. She was still standing there, unaware, brushing a loose strand of hair off her forehead. She didn’t smile back. Maybe she didn’t even notice.

But it didn’t matter.

Because something about seeing her calm, distant, unapologetically herself filled his heart with a kind of warmth he wasn’t used to. It settled in quietly, like sunlight seeping through an old windowpane slow, gentle, but impossible to ignore.

He looked away quickly, gripping his clipboard tighter, trying to bury the feeling before anyone could see it on his face.

Meanwhile, Aditi’s mind, which was usually a place of easy sarcasm and careless drifting, wasn’t so quiet today.

She had felt something… a flicker. Not in the air, but in the way Shagun had spoken. In the way he had looked.

Her brows furrowed slightly, more in thought than doubt.

Was he… really smiling at me?

The question lingered like an echo in a cavern, soft and unsure, yet refusing to disappear.

And though she didn’t know it yet, that one silent question was about to open a hundred more.

The bell had rung, and the classroom slowly filled with the usual hum of post-assembly chatter. Students bustled around, animatedly discussing which activities they’d signed up for in the upcoming sports day. 

At the back bench, Aditi, Shagun, and Priya slumped into their seats with varying degrees of energy. They pulled out their notebooks more out of habit than intent, still mentally lingering in the sunshine of the assembly ground.

Just then, Vivaan stormed in like a guest of chaos, throwing himself onto the bench beside them as if he’d just returned from war.

“Bach gaye aaj bhi,” he declared with theatrical exhaustion. “Ek aur assembly mein bina behosh hue. Proud of myself.”

Priya didn’t even look up. “You literally almost fell asleep standing Chuhe.”

Vivaan grinned, unbothered. “Chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hai bigdi zindagi mein Chuhiya.”

Shagun rolled her eyes but didn’t respond to his drama. Instead, she turned to Aditi, eyes sharp with purpose. “Tu seriously nahi bhaagegi race mein? Tu toh state level runner thi na… last year ki trophy abhi bhi hai tere pass.”

Aditi didn’t even blink. “Nahi. Injury hai, aur mann bhi nahi hai.”

Priya leaned forward, eyebrows knitting in concern. “But you love running Aditi. You used to talk about how it made you feel free… like flying, remember?”

Aditi’s jaw tightened as she avoided their eyes. “Ab nahi karti. Bas. Chhodo yeh topic.”

But Shagun wasn’t ready to back off just yet. Her tone softened, but her words stayed firm. “Tu kis cheez se bhaag rahi hai, race se ya khud se?”

Aditi shot her a look, sharp and brief, but she didn’t answer.

Vivaan, unusually perceptive for a moment, looked between the girls and said quietly, “Kabhi kabhi jo cheez humein todti hai… wahi cheez humein waapis jodne ka reason bhi hoti hai.”

Aditi looked up, clearly annoyed. “Tum sab milke mujhe philosopher banane aaye ho kya?”

Shagun leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I’am not pushing you. I just… miss the version of you who used to run like the world couldn’t catch her.”

There was a beat of silence.

Aditi didn’t reply immediately. She looked down at her notebook, fingers absentmindedly flipping pages, the war in her eyes visible even if she said nothing. Her face was unreadable not angry, just distant.

“Let it go Shagun,” she said finally, voice quieter now, more worn than irritated. “That version of me doesn’t exist anymore.”

The others fell quiet. Even Vivaan didn’t have a joke to throw.

Before anyone could say more, the door creaked open with a low, familiar sound that made half the class instinctively sit straighter.

Ansh stepped in. Shoulders straight. Calm and poised like always. But even with that composed demeanor, his eyes immediately swept across the room sharp, focused… until they paused for just a moment too long on the back bench.

On her.

Aditi looked up, catching his gaze for the briefest second before quickly glancing away, mentally scolding herself.

From the front row, Charu was already straightening her posture, fixing her hair in one swift move as if she’d been waiting for this exact moment. She smiled a calculated, almost camera-ready expression and chirped sweetly, “Good morning, Ansh! You’re looking very serious today… as always!”

Ansh didn’t even glance her way.

He cleared his throat, voice steady and official, eyes already scanning the class. “We still need more names for relay and sprint events. Especially girls. If anyone’s interested, let me know now. I’ll be noting down the names as I go.”

Charu blinked, her smile faltering just a bit as Ansh walked right past her row without even a nod. She huffed under her breath and leaned toward her friend, muttering, “He seriously didn’t hear that? I literally smiled with full energy.”

Meanwhile, Ansh’s steps slowed as he neared the back benches. He wasn’t obvious about it he never was but somehow his clipboard tilted ever so slightly in Aditi’s direction.

Vivaan, being Vivaan, caught it instantly. He leaned in, elbowing Aditi with an exaggerated grin. “Dekh na… tujhe bulane aa gaye bhaiya khud. Bas naam le le tera aur chale jaaye.”

Aditi rolled her eyes. “Tu chup reh Vivaan.”

Vivaan gasped, mock offended. “Tu bhaag le na race mein. Har kisi ko chance thodi milta hai Ansh Bhaiya ke clipboard pe naam likhane ka!”

Shagun jumped in, her voice gentler, more coaxing. She nudged Aditi lightly, her eyes pleading. “Please Aditi… just try. Ek baar. Not for the trophy. Not for anyone else. Just for yourself. Feel that rush again. You used to light up when you ran.”

Aditi looked down, her fingers curling around the edge of her notebook.

“I said no,” she replied quietly, her tone firmer now like it wasn’t just about running. “Mujhe yeh sab nahi karna.”

Ansh was just one row away now, pretending to be lost in names and columns, but his ears had caught every word. His fingers hesitated slightly above his clipboard… before he moved on without asking anything.

He didn’t push. But something in his expression flickered. Her voice had a softness to it… a guarded edge that wasn’t meant to sound vulnerable but somehow still did.

And Ansh heard it that quiet resistance, wrapped in something heavier as he approached the last bench.

He stopped right beside them. His gaze lingered not directly at anyone, but soft, observant, quietly reading the room the way only someone like Ansh could. Noticing every little twitch, every tiny shift.

Priya leaned forward slightly, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with concern. “Ansh bhaiya… please Aditi ka naam likh lo. She’s just being stubborn.” Her tone wasn’t whiny it was hopeful. Almost like she knew Aditi wanted it too, deep down.

Ansh looked at her. Not at Priya at Aditi.

And though she wasn’t looking up, her fingers betrayed her. Fidgeting with the pen, tapping it lightly against the notebook’s edge. Her shoulders were just a little too stiff. Her eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Like she knew he was there. Like she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she noticed.

Ansh took in a slow breath. Then, voice lower than usual almost like a question he said, “Aditi…”

She looked up. And their eyes met. It was just a second. A small, fleeting thing. But for Ansh, the world went quiet. Like something important was happening and he wasn’t sure what, but it mattered.

He forgot what he had to say. Words left him completely. Which was rare. He was never the one to lose composure. But somehow, those wide brown eyes looking at him guarded, strong, but soft at the edges made his breath falter.

Aditi’s brows lifted slightly, confused. “What?”

The room had melted into a hush the moment Ansh spoke again not as the Head Boy, but as someone who saw her. Someone who understood more than she let on.

He met her gaze gently, voice even softer than before, “You don’t have to run if you’re hurt. But if you’re holding back because you think you can’t anymore… I don’t think that’s true.”

Aditi blinked, caught off guard. No one had said that to her before not in that tone. Not with that kind of quiet certainty.

Ansh continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve seen you walk like you still miss sprinting. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just… don’t deny yourself something you once loved.”

And for a brief moment, the classroom didn’t exist.

The distant hum of laughter, the rustle of notebooks, even the ticking clock all of it faded into stillness.

Vivaan had paused mid-chew of his gum, eyes wide.

Shagun let out a small breath, the corners of her lips lifting in a quiet smile as she whispered under it, “…Ansh bhaiya…”

Aditi opened her mouth, but her voice didn’t come right away. When it finally did, it was soft. Vulnerable.

“I… I don’t know.” There was a tiny crack in her voice almost imperceptible. But Ansh noticed. He heard it, like it echoed louder than anything else in the room.

He nodded, the barest trace of warmth in his expression. “I’ll leave it blank for now. But… I hope you’ll change your mind.”

No expectation. No pressure. Just… faith. And with that, he turned and walked on, clipboard back in place, mask of composure slipping on once again.

As soon as he moved away, Vivaan leaned closer, whispering in pure awe, “main sapna to nhi dekh rha?… yeh banda itna soft bhi bann sakta h?”

Aditi ducked slightly behind her notebook, her cheeks glowing with warmth. “Chup kar Vivaan. Itna mat bol.”

Vivaan grinned wider, unable to stop. “Tu bhaage na bhaage… iske baad toh teri heartbeat zaroor bhaag gayi hogi.”

“Main tera muh tod dungi,” Aditi warned, halfheartedly her lips twitching despite herself.

Beside her, Priya rested her chin on her hand, watching the whole scene unfold like she was watching her favorite movie. “He never talks like that to anyone,” she murmured, nudging Aditi. “I’ve seen him shut down half the class with just a look. But with you? That was… different.”

Aditi didn’t answer. She couldn’t. It had landed somewhere deep where her fears hid and where her love for running had been buried.

And a little farther behind, Shagun observed quietly. She watched the way Aditi’s fingers trembled just slightly on her notebook, how her shoulders were no longer tight, just a bit lighter.

******************************************

Thank you so much for reading the chapter! 💖

I truly hope you enjoyed it, even though I know this one might’ve felt a little on the slower or “boring” side…but trust me, the upcoming chapters are packed with drama, twists, and those heart-thudding moments you’ve all been waiting for!

Until then, please take care of yourselves, stay safe, and don’t forget to smile. 

Your love and support means the world to me.

Love you all endlessly, my sweetest Bubbles! 💗✨

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