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मेरे हाथ में तेरा हाथ हो, सारी जन्नते मेरे साथ हो
मेरे हाथ में तेरा हाथ हो, सारी जन्नते मेरे साथ हो
तू जो पास हो फिर क्या ये जहां
तेरे प्यार में हो जाऊँ फ़ना
मेरे हाथ में तेरा हाथ हो, सारी जन्नते मेरे साथ हो
तू जो पास हो फिर क्या ये जहां
तेरे प्यार में हो जाऊँ फ़ना
मेरे हाथ में तेरा हाथ हो, सारी जन्नते मेरे साथ हो💖
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Comments: 50+
******************************
A day before sports day…
The last chemistry lecture finally crawled to an end, but not before wringing the life out of Class 11-F. With three back-to-back chemistry classes, even the most studious students had begun to slump, eyes glazed, spirits flattened. The air in the classroom hung heavy with boredom, muffled groans echoing through the benches as the teacher finally left.
The moment the door clicked shut, a few kids dropped their heads dramatically onto their desks while others sat up with exaggerated relief. Priya stretched her arms high, groaning, “Mujhe lagta hai mere brain cells ne chemical reaction karke suicide kar liya hai.”
Just then, a knock echoed, and the classroom door creaked open. Ruhaan leaned casually against the doorframe, clipboard in hand and a half-smirk playing on his lips. “Kya haal hai, Einstein ke baccho?” he asked, eyeing the half-dead classroom.
A few kids sat up straighter, thankful for any sign of life beyond molecular structures. Ruhaan held up the clipboard. “Main kuch volunteers lene aaya hoon. Kal Sports Day hai, toh decoration aur stage prep ke liye kuch log chahiye.”
Before anyone else could process that, Priya practically jumped in her seat, whisper-shouting to Aditi beside her, “Yeh mauka chodne wala nahi hai, agle 2 period physics padhne se to beter hi hai inke sath hi chal lein”
Aditi, just as desperate to escape, nodded like she’d been waiting all her life for this moment. Without hesitation, Priya raised her hand. “Bhaiya, mujhe aur Aditi ko le chalo! Dekho kitne motivated volunteers hain!”
Ruhaan raised an eyebrow. “Bas tum dono?”
Aditi grinned and added cheekily, “Hum dono ke saath Shagun ko bhi le chalo. aapko bhi toh decorating skills chahiye na… aur special attention bhi.” Her tone was sugar-sweet, but her eyes glittered with mischief.
Across the room, Shagun, who had been calmly sipping water until then, choked slightly. She glared daggers at her two best friends, her eyes screaming, Tum dono ki toh main…
Ruhaan looked mildly amused and dramatically scratched his chin. “Hmm… toh tum log mujhe time alone dena chahte ho Shagun ke saath. Kya dosti hai yeh… emotional support dikh raha hai.”
Before any more teasing could unfold, Vivaan, who had been slouched in the back bench trying to balance a pencil on his nose, suddenly sat up with newfound energy. As Ruhaan turned to leave with the trio, Vivaan snuck out behind them with the stealth of a cartoon burglar, mouthing to Priya, “Main bhi aa raha hoon, drama ke bina reh nahi sakta.”
As the group reached the door, a voice piped up sharply.
“Main bhi chalungi,” Charu announced, straightening up and brushing invisible lint off her sleeves.
Ruhaan paused, turning slightly, unsure if she was serious.
Charu walked toward them, attempting an air of authority. “Main class monitor hoon. It’s important I supervise too.”
Before Ruhaan could reply, Aditi tilted her head, her expression dripping sweet sarcasm. “Exactly, Charu. Tum class monitor ho. Toh… class mein raho.”
The room went still for a second, and then erupted into muffled chuckles. A few students clapped silently behind their desks, and Ruhaan couldn’t hold back his laugh. Even Shagun snorted, failing to hide her smirk.
Charu stood frozen, lips slightly parted as if she’d been mid-retort, but no words came. The sheer casual savagery of Aditi’s reply had knocked the wind out of her argument.
Ruhaan turned to aditi with an impressed grin. “isse to tu hi handle kar sakti hai sachhi”
And with that, the group strolled out of the class Priya and Aditi high-fiving quietly, Shagun shooting them betrayed looks while walking beside Ruhaan, and Vivaan humming like he was part of a spy mission. Behind them, Charu sat back down stiffly, fuming in silence as the rest of the class chuckled in quiet victory.
The corridor echoed with their footsteps and laughter as Aditi and Priya walked ahead, chatting and occasionally teasing Vivaan who kept trying to balance a thermocol sheet on his head like a crown.
Ruhaan, of course, slowed down just enough to walk beside Shagun, who was internally screaming. All she wanted was peace and silence after a long, chaotic day. But no she was now surrounded by the loudest species of her friend group.And then it began.
He glanced at Shagun, caught the irritated twitch of her eyebrow, and smirked like a man on a mission. Then with the confidence of a dramatic 90s hero he cleared his throat and burst into song:
“Main agar kahoon… tumsa haseen…”
Shagun whipped her head toward him with a glare that could kill small plants. He, unfazed, had his hand on his heart and was now slowly walking backwards in front of her, serenading the sky like he was in a Karan Johar movie.
Vivaan immediately gasped and joined in the background vocals. “…Kainaaat mein nahi hai kahin! Tareef yeh bhi toh…”
“OH GOD NO,” Shagun muttered, trying to walk faster. But Ruhaan kept pace, still dramatically holding eye contact.
Ruhaan,”Sach hai kuch bhi nahi… tumhari tarah!”
He pointed at her with a finger gun like it was the punchline of his entire life.
Priya almost choked laughing. “Is he serious? Are we in DDLJ or detention?”
Shagun stopped walking. “Ruhaan. Tum chup nahi reh sakte kya?”
Ruhaan, as if hurt”Dil se gaa raha hoon. Tumhare liye, Shagun.”
“Tumhara besura pyaar mujhe maut de raha hai,” she replied dryly, crossing her arms.
Ruhaan dramatically clutched his throat. “Wah, waah… itni khubsurat insult pe toh ek aur gaana banta hai!”
Before she could run, he switched tunes,
“Chura ke dil mera… goriya chali!”
He started doing actual dance steps. Vivaan joined him without hesitation. Even Priya began clapping on beat.
Shagun looked up at the sky. “Bhagwan, please lightning bhej do. Abhi ke abhi.”
“Tum toh seedha dil chura ke bhaag gayi, Shagun,” Ruhaan called out, twirling as if he was on Dance India Dance. “Aur mujhe chhod diya emotions ke raaste mein nange paon!”
Aditi had been quietly observing Ruhaan’s filmy meltdown when something inside her snapped. She turned to Priya with the most serious expression.
“Tu soch kya rahi hai?” Priya asked, already suspicious.
Aditi narrowed her eyes, like a villain ready to strike. “Aaj Shagun ki izzat ka vivaad khatam karte hain.”
Priya grinned. “Bhaiya toh gaye kaam se.”
They both marched forward like side villains in a daily soap.
Ruhaan, still dramatically leaning against the wall, wiped imaginary tears with his sleeve. “Shagun yaar, tumhara ‘na’ bhi ‘haan’ lagta hai.”
Aditi stepped in, mimicking his tone. “Aur aapka drama bhi emergency evacuation drill lagta hai.”
Ruhaan blinked. “Aditi?”
Priya clapped with an evil grin. “Arre, hum toh bas aapke love story ka background music dene aaye hain.”
Shagun groaned, “NOPE. Not you two too…”
Too late.
Aditi cleared her throat, held her arms like a violin, and began fake humming a romantic tune, complete with background score,”Ting ting ting… shayad yahi toh pyaar hai…”
Vivaan jumped back in, lifting his thermocol piece high above his head like Simba from The Lion King. “Aur yeh lo! Prem ki chhaya mein thermocol ki shagun!”
Priya snatched a red chart from Shagun’s file and fanned Ruhaan dramatically. “Hamare yeh Rajkumar, football se field pe goal maarte hain, aur corridors mein dil!”
Ruhaan placed a hand over his heart. “Waah, kya delivery thi, Priya. Dil jeet liya.”
Aditi chimed in like a news anchor, “Aur aaj ki breaking news…Shagun shrivastav finally caught red-handed staring at her football waale lover boy!”
Shagun’s face was now a perfect shade of tomato. “Tum sab ek number ke…”
Ruhaan leaned toward her, whispering with mock intensity, “Kya karun Shagun, jab tum aise roothi rehti hai… toh meri duniya udasi mein doob jaati hai…”
Shagun grabbed a chalk piece, threatening to yeet it at his forehead. “Main tumhe doobti duniya dikhati hoon.”
Priya gasped and added dramatically, “Naaheeeee Shagun! Inhe maar mat! Yeh toh sirf tujhse pyaar karte hain!”
Aditi started humming a sad Dharamendra-style background score. “Duniya mein hum aaye hain toh jeena hi padega… jeevan hai agar zhar toh peena hi padega…”
Vivaan stood beside Ruhaan like a statue, fake crying with his thermocol lifted high. “Bhaiya, agar yeh Shagun ka pyaar nahi mila toh aap mujhe gira dena chhat se!”
Shagun, totally done, pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, “Main kyun school aayi aaj…”
Ruhaan stepped closer, smirking. “Kyunki yahan main hoon. Tumhara hero.”
Shagun snapped her head toward him. “Hero mat bano. Tumhara hero banne ka time board exams ke baad bhi nahi aayega.”
Aditi fake sobbed. “Someone get them a shaadi ka mandap yaar…”
Priya giggled. “Usme bhi Ruhaan bhaiya drama karenge…’Qubool hai? Kya mujhe qubool hai? Shagun toh kuch bol hi nahi rahi!'”
Shagun opened her mouth to yell But before she could, a very real teacher appeared at the corridor’s end, arms folded, eyebrows raised.
“Yeh kya ho raha hai yahan?”
Silence. Dead silence.
Vivaan, holding the thermocol like a dead baby, whispered, “Ab bhaiya ko real Oscar milega. Suspension edition.”
Ruhaan coughed. “Woh ma’am… hum toh bas… uh… sports day preps”
Shagun muttered under her breath, “Main kisi ko nahi bachane wali is baar.”
Aditi, Priya, and Vivaan took one slow step back.
The teacher raised an eyebrow. “preparations, huh? Toh sabhi yaha par kya kar rhe ho ground main jao jaldi.”
Ruhaan, Shagun, Aditi, Priya, and Vivaan,”YES MA’AM.”
Ruhaan grinned at Shagun. “Dekha? Tumhare liye sab kuch kar sakta hoon… even public humiliation.” Shagun looked at him, tried not to smile… and failed just a little.
And amidst all the madness, Shagun just smiled quietly and walked ahead like a queen who had tamed her court jester leaving Ruhaan behind, hand on heart, bowing theatrically to an invisible audience.
—————————————————————
The school corridor was unusually quiet for Sports Day preparations. Most of the chaos was happening outside on the ground, but inside the hallway near the senior wing, Ansh and Prateek were working with quiet focus.
They stood in front of the giant board that was meant to display the house charts and event schedules. Rolls of chart paper, ribbons, and art supplies were scattered at their feet.
Ansh was on a stool, pinning the title banner at the top, while Prateek carefully smoothed out the maroon sheet that would cover the center of the board.
“Left side thoda fold ho raha hai,” Ansh called out, peering down.
“Main theek karta hoon,” Prateek replied, stepping closer to the board, fingers adjusting the edges.
Ansh jumped down and stepped up behind him, holding the stapler.
“I’ll staple it. Hold it steady,” he said, already leaning in.
Without a second thought, Ansh stepped forward, clipboard tucked under one arm and stapler in the other, his eyes locked on the wrinkled sheet Prateek was holding up. The paper wasn’t aligned perfectly and that just would not do. The perfectionist in him flared.
“Thoda upar kar,” he muttered.
Prateek obliged, adjusting the edge of the chart, and in one swift motion, Ansh moved behind him, arm sliding around to staple the top corner. For balance, his other hand braced against the board right next to Prateek’s head.
Their proximity? Dangerously Bollywood. Ansh’s breath ghosted over Prateek’s temple, the stapler clicked barely an inch from his cheek, and Prateek paused eyes wide as if his soul had momentarily left his body.
Then came the gasp.
“AREY BAAAP RE!” Vivaan’s voice exploded through the corridor like a dramatic soap opera entrance.
The boys froze like statues. Prateek’s hand still holding the sheet. Ansh’s hand still braced against the wall. And that stapler? Still mid-air like a prop in a romantic climax.
They slowly turned… like villains caught mid-heist. Standing by the entrance, Aditi had dropped the balloon pump. Priya was frozen with a sketch folder in hand, eyes wide and blinking like she just saw a plot twist.
Shagun had her mouth covered, trembling with silent laughter. Ruhaan was smirking like he’d just walked into a meme.
And Vivaan? Vivaan had dropped to his knees in the hallway, fake crying, “Bhaiya! Yeh kya dekh liya maine! aap dono… board ke saamne… pyaar ka izhaar karte hue!”
Aditi turned to Shagun, completely straight-faced. “Kya scene chal raha tha? Maine toh sirf board decoration suna tha.”
Shagun grinned, eyes sparkling. “Board of love, apparently.”
Ruhaan chimed in smugly, arms folded, “Bhai… thoda toh signal de dete pehle. Corridor hai, Karan Johar ka set nahi.”
Priya couldn’t even meet Prateek’s eyes and pretended to be deeply fascinated by a speck of dust on the floor. Ansh and Prateek turned to each other, slowly like characters in a suspense thriller just realizing they were part of the plot.
And then… Realization hit.
Their eyes dropped to where they’d been standing. Inches apart. Ansh’s hand had literally caged Prateek between the board and his chest. The stapler still dangled from his fingers like a forgotten weapon in a soap opera climax.
Both of them instantly jumped back. Like magnets forced apart.
“Wha- I was just stapling the sheet!” Ansh blurted out, voice three octaves higher than usual.
“Main toh board pakad raha tha! Tu hi aaya tha peeche se!” Prateek snapped, pointing an accusatory finger. “Itna chipakne ki zarurat kya thi?!”
Vivaan dramatically clutched his imaginary pearls. “Yeh sab toh public mein ho raha tha… Socho, band kamre mein kya hota!”
Ruhaan whistled. “Ansh, tu toh chhupa Rustam nikla, bhai. uss din room me bhi aur aaj yha bhi”
Ansh turned pink not just pink, but anxiously melting strawberry pink. “AREY MAINE KUCH NAHI KIYA!”
Prateek groaned and muttered, “Yeh din dekhna baaki tha… board decorate karte karte main controversy ban jaunga…”
And yet… amidst the chaos, Prateek caught a glimpse of Priya. She was too quiet. too still. Not laughing like Vivaan. Not joking like Shagun. Just… blank. Her eyes flicked from him to Ansh and back again, and then she turned away, pretending to re-check the ribbon box. The unease in Prateek’s stomach multiplied.
“Why does it feel worse when she’s silent?” he wondered, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
Meanwhile, Ansh’s attention shifted to Aditi. She wasn’t reacting either. Not laughing. Not smirking. Just… silently looking at him. Like she was observing him through a microscope. And somehow, that unnerved him more than Vivaan’s serial level acting.
Ansh cleared his throat and muttered under his breath, “Yeh log kam pagal hain kya…”
Prateek groaned and grabbed a marker like it was a sword. “Tum logon ka dimaag bigad gaya hai.”
Ansh tried to maintain his dignity, shoulders squared, but the corners of his mouth twitched with the need to hide a smile.
“Drama squad.” he muttered, walking away.
Ruhaan yelling behind him “Kya karein bhai, pyaar toh hota hi dramatic hai!”
And in the midst of all the chaos, glances were exchanged, questions remained unspoken, and somewhere deep down amidst staplers and sarcasm two confused boys started questioning why that one moment felt… oddly personal.
———————————————-
The school ground was buzzing with energy, painted in hues of excitement and pre-event chaos. Streamers hung half-tied, paint buckets sat open beside half-finished art pieces, and the late afternoon sun draped everything in golden warmth. With Sports Day around the corner, students were scattered everywhere, their chatter and laughter weaving into the backdrop like music.
Ansh stood near the center of it all the calm amidst the storm. Dressed in his crisp school shirt and navy pants,Blazer forgotten in a corner,sleves rolled up, clipboard in hand, his expression was serious but not stern. The quintessential Head Boy. He moved with quiet authority, checking lists, correcting alignments, and giving instructions wherever needed. He wasn’t just supervising he was working alongside everyone, holding ladders steady, helping tape flags, lifting cartons of props without hesitation.
But beneath that layer of leadership, something… or rather someone, kept tugging at his attention.
Just across the ground, near the stage, Aditi sat on the mat with Ruhaan, surrounded by a cascade of colorful balloons. Her hair was loosely tied, a few strands rebelliously escaping to frame her face. A faint smudge of pink color stained her cheek, probably from a burst balloon or Ruhaan’s chaotic energy. Her laughter bright and careless echoed across the ground as she playfully flicked a balloon at Ruhaan’s head.
Ruhaan groaned dramatically, flinging his arms in the air like the world had personally offended him. Aditi didn’t even look up from where she was tying the balloon string, her lips twitching with a smirk.
Ansh, from a distance, let out a quiet breath half a laugh, half a sigh and quickly looked away, pretending to read something on the clipboard.
Nearby, Priya sat under the shade of a tree, working silently on a large chart paper. Her brush glided gracefully across the sheet, revealing a stunning painting of runners crossing a finish line. Her brows were knitted in concentration, unaware of the few paint smudges on her chin. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, occasionally pausing to adjust a color tone.
On the far end, Prateek and Shagun were in their own version of war with the event banners.
Shagun let out an exasperated huff, yanking the string hard as the tape refused to stick for the fifth time. “Yeh tape agar firse haath se chipka na,” she gritted out, eyes narrowing at the banner above her, “main banner ko jala dungi!”
Prateek, crouched beside her, burst into laughter while fumbling with a stubborn knot. “Banner se pehle tum mujhe chipka dena!” he said, grinning up at her. “Kaam pe dhyaan do, naari!”
Meanwhile, Vivaan sweat-drenched, hair sticking to his forehead marched from the basement with a box in his hands, dramatically sighing every few steps.
Vivaan trudged across the field, dramatically dragging a heavy box with all the flair of a tragic hero. “isse achha to chemistry hi padh leta…” he groaned, casting his eyes to the heavens. “Bhagwaan jii….. mujhe hi kyu peeste ho aap hamesha?”
Ansh approached with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, effortlessly taking the box from Vivaan’s hands.
Still, no matter how much he tried to stay focused on his duties, his eyes kept betraying him slipping back to Aditi. Watching her laugh, tease, even huff in frustration when a balloon slipped from her hand.
She looked radiant full of life, unapologetically herself. There was something about her rawness, her careless enthusiasm, that clashed with his disciplined world. And yet, instead of irritating him, it pulled him in like gravity.
He wasn’t even sure when it had started… this habit of looking for her in every group, every frame, every moment. All he knew was he found a strange comfort in her chaos.
But he didn’t let it show. Not a single thread of his uniform or tone of voice betrayed what stirred inside.
And yet every time Aditi’s laughter danced across the ground he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even himself.
Just as Ansh’s gaze lingered a second too long on Aditi her head tilted back in laughter, hands tangled in a bunch of half-blown balloons a voice called out sharply from behind, snapping him out of his trance.
“Ansh!” the teacher’s stern voice rang across the field.
Ansh blinked, caught off-guard. He immediately stood straighter than necessary, his spine snapping to attention as he turned around quickly. A slight pink crept onto his ears, betraying the fact that he had momentarily zoned out.
“Yes, ma’am?” he responded, voice calm but alert.
“I need the list of final sports entries and the volunteer count for each house,” the teacher said, eyes narrowing just a bit. “And I hope you’ve assigned someone to supervise the water arrangements too?”
Ansh gave a quick nod, already reaching for the clipboard tucked under his arm. His posture settled back into its usual composed form, his tone more confident now.
“Yes, ma’am. The final list is ready,” he said smoothly, flipping to the marked page. “I’ve color-coded the volunteers in red and green based on shift timings. Water arrangements are being handled by Sarthak from Blue House. I personally briefed him this morning.”
The teacher’s expression eased, a small approving nod following as she scanned the field again.
“Good. Things are shaping up well. But remember,” she said, her tone softening just slightly, “small details make the biggest difference in events like these.”
Ansh offered her a polite, respectful smile, nodding once more. “Understood, ma’am. I’ll double-check everything before dispersal.”
As she moved off to speak to another group, Ansh exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping just a little. He glanced at his clipboard again, forcing his focus back onto the paper names, tasks, timings all neatly written, every column filled.
But the faint sound of Aditi’s giggle carried by the breeze pulled at his attention once more. He didn’t look this time. Not immediately. But his heart did.
—————————————
Near one of the main entrances to the school grounds, chaos was quietly unfolding in the form of a stubborn banner that refused to stay put. The bright fabric flapped rebelliously every time someone managed to hook one end, almost as if it had declared war on gravity and patience.
Shagun stood beneath it, arms crossed, her expression as dramatic as ever. “Yeh banner ko kya chuhe ki atma mil gayi hai kabhi balance mein rehta hi nahi!” she declared with a sigh that could rival any soap opera heroine’s.
Prateek, standing precariously on a stool, was halfway through tying the string again when he gave her a deadpan look. “chuhe ki baat toh rehne do, abhi yeh banner sambhal lo pehle,” he muttered dryly, tugging the knot tighter, though it seemed just as ineffective as the last five attempts.
Shagun groaned, rubbing her temples and pacing a little. “Prateek bhaiya, main thak chuki hoon yaar! Yeh toh kab ka gir chuka hota agar aapka serious face isse darake nahi rakhta to!”
Prateek exhaled heavily, stepping down from the stool with the kind of frustration only an inanimate object can inspire. He glared at the banner like it had personally insulted him and muttered something under his breath before scanning the crowd nearby. His eyes landed on Ansh, who was wiping sweat off his forehead, clipboard held in his hands.
“Ansh! Zaraa help kar yaar!” Prateek called out, his voice laced with both hope and exhaustion.
A few moments later, Ansh arrived, clipboard held in his hands, eyebrows furrowed as usual.
“Kya hua?” he asked curtly, eyes shifting between the dangling banner, the string, and the two exhausted figures below it.
Prateek exhaled, stepping forward and rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeh banner hum dono se nahi ho raha. Thoda upar se tie karna hai, par koi support nahi mil raha.”
Just then, from the side path of the sports shed, Priya appeared, slightly breathless. Her hands were smeared with shades of orange and green paint, a streak of blue dotting her cheek. She held a half-dry brush, her eyes darting toward Ansh before speaking.
“Ansh bhaiya…” she began softly, almost hesitant. “Aap ik baar chart paper dekh lo… theek hai ya kuch aur add karun?”
Ansh gave a small nod, shifting slightly as he prepared to walk with her. “Haan, dekhta hu…” he started, already turning his shoulders in her direction.
But before he could take a step, Shagun jumped in like a well-timed plot twist, her voice rising with theatrical brightness. “Ansh bhaiya! Aap yeh banner sambhaliye! Waise bhi Priya ke chart ko toh koi aur bhi dekh sakta hai…” She smiled sweetly too sweetly then turned toward Prateek, eyes gleaming with barely restrained mischief. “Prateek bhaiya, aap chale jaiye Priya ke saath… aapko iski zyada knowledge hai na!”
Her tone was playful, but the intent was clear.
Prateek, who had been fiddling with the edge of his blazer nervously, froze. His posture stiffened slightly, and his fingers curled tighter at the fabric. He looked like he wanted to argue, or at least deflect but when he turned to glance at Priya, who was now blinking rapidly, clearly thrown off by the sudden shift, the words seemed to disappear from his throat.
Ansh, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around him, shrugged simply. “Haan sahi hai, tu dekh le chart. Main banner sambhalta hoon,” he said, already stepping toward the stool with a practical air.
Prateek hesitated for a beat, then finally gave a small nod, his voice quieter now, a little too even. “Haan…, theek hai.”
As he moved to follow Priya, Shagun folded her arms with a triumphant grin and turned back to the banner as if she hadn’t just gently nudged two people into a situation neither of them was fully prepared for but maybe needed all the same.
Priya nodded, trying to hide her shaky breath as she led him toward the table.
As the afternoon sun filtered through the fine mesh of the playground nets, it spilled soft golden light over the open table where the chart paper rested half-dry, half-smudged. The air was warm and still, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional distant shout from students preparing for Sports Day. In this quiet corner, it felt like the world had slowed just a little.
Prateek leaned in slightly, his brows drawn in focus, the pen in his hand skimming just above the chart lines as he carefully examined the headings. A few strands of hair had fallen across his forehead, and the sunlight kissed the side of his face in that cinematic way that made everything else blur around him.
Beside him, Priya stood with her fingers lightly curling the edge of the chart, but her eyes weren’t on the words anymore. Not really.
They were on him.
The way he tilted his head when reading. The quiet intensity in his eyes. The soft, precise movement of his hand as he underlined a heading. Even the faint crease on his t-shirt where he had nervously clutched it earlier everything about him felt… real. Solid. Comforting. Yet, somehow, utterly undoing.
Her heartbeat was nowhere near steady now. And then
Without lifting his head, still scanning the chart with that same focused calm, Prateek spoke softly, casually, his tone laced with quiet curiosity. “Itni der se dekh kya rahi ho, Priya?”
Her breath hitched.and before her brain could throw the emergency brakes…
“Aapko,” she said.
Silence. The word hung in the air like a firecracker just before it bursts. Prateek’s pen stilled mid-air.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, lifted from the paper and turned slowly toward her. There was no teasing smirk, no sarcasm, just surprise. Real, stunned, slightly wide-eyed surprise.
Their eyes met. Priya’s heart dropped straight to her stomach as her brain finally caught up with what had just escaped her mouth. Panic hit like a crashing wave.
“I…I mean… handwriting!” she blurted, stumbling backward slightly. “Vo… marker ka colour match kar raha tha… chart se… vo… alignment check kar rahi thi main…”
She was babbling. Incoherently. Desperately trying to backpedal as heat rushed to her cheeks. Prateek kept watching her, frozen for another moment until, unexpectedly, a soft chuckle escaped him.
It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t smug. It was warm. Gentle. The kind of laugh that slips past defenses and settles quietly in the corners of your chest.
“Toh ab marker bana diya mujhe?” he said, his voice light now, the faintest curve lifting the corner of his lips.
It was a rare sight Prateek smiling with genuine amusement, not his usual calm smirk or polite nod. This was real. His eyes softened, and for a moment, it looked like the sun itself leaned in closer just to catch it.
Priya opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had no idea what to say.
And before she could try, Vivaan’s voice echoed in the distance loud, dramatic, chaotic as always.
“Arey koi us banner ko girao yaar! Mujhe lagta hai usne Ansh bhaiya ka patience test karne ki kasam kha rakhi hai!”
Followed immediately by Ruhaan’s exaggerated yell, “Shagun! yaar mujhe bhii bula liya hota main sab kuch chod chaad k aa jata tumhare paas bichara Ansh kya kya sambhalega”
Priya jumped slightly at the sound, but Prateek just shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping once again.
And though he turned back to the chart a moment later, he didn’t miss the way Priya’s hands were now nervously fidgeting with the hem of her skirt or the tiny, embarrassed smile tugging at her lips.
He didn’t say anything else. But he didn’t stop smiling either.
Around them, the world moved friends shouted from across the ground, a whistle blew in the distance, laughter echoed but none of it reached the small bubble where Priya and Prateek stood.
He stepped a little closer. Not suddenly, not dramatically just a quiet, instinctive shift forward, like gravity itself had pulled him toward her. His voice, when he spoke, was low and calm, barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning.
“Vaise kuch bolna chah rahi thi tum?” he said
Priya’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes still locked on his widened just slightly. She nodded, the tiniest movement, her gaze swimming with a dozen emotions she couldn’t name.
But the words? They refused to come. They hovered on her lips like butterflies too afraid to fly.
Prateek tilted his head, studying her. There was no smirk now. No teasing edge. Just something softer. Something honest. His brows relaxed, his eyes softened a quiet wonder playing behind them as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
And then he leaned in. Just a little. Just enough for her to forget how to breathe.
His voice dropped lower, barely a murmur between them, laced with the kind of affection that only shows itself when someone’s truly paying attention.
“You know… there’s something on you that people shouldn’t be allowed to see right now.”
Priya blinked, startled by the sudden turn. Her brows drew together in confusion, lips parting.
“What do you mean?” she asked softly, voice almost trembling.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, without looking away, he reached down with deliberate care, dipped his thumb gently in the edge of the red paint tray beside the chart, and…
He touched it to her cheek. Just the faintest smear of paint. Light as a breeze. Right where her blush had bloomed. The contact was soft. So soft she might have imagined it, if not for the way her heart slammed against her ribs. Prateek’s eyes remained fixed on hers, his voice barely a whisper now.
“This blush…” he murmured, like he was confessing a secret meant only for her ears,
“…is dangerous. It might just be the reason I lose all control someday.”
A silence settled between them. Not awkward. Not uncertain. Sacred.
Then, as if realizing the weight of his own actions, he blinked, pulled his hand back slowly, and let out the faintest breath of a laugh shy and a little awestruck.
“Sorry…” And just like that, he turned and walked away.
No pause for reaction. No waiting for a reply. Just left her standing there, alone with the echo of his words and the warmth of his touch still glowing on her cheek like fire.
Priya didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her fingers rose slowly, trembling, to brush the spot where his thumb had been right over the smear of red, now blending with the blush he’d called dangerous.
Her breath shook. “Did that… just happen?” she whispered, to no one but the wind.
Meanwhile, On the stage, sunlight spilled in through the open doors, lighting up the half-decorated arch. Balloons bobbed gently in the soft breeze, some tied, some still waiting. Aditi stood on a slightly wobbly ladder, one hand stretched high above her head as she tried to tape a balloon that just wouldn’t stay.
Her fingers were sticky with glue. A few used tape strips hung from her wrist like messy bangles. Her ponytail had started to fall loose, and frustration was clear on her face.
“Stupid balloon,” she muttered, stretching a little more. “chipak jaa na!”
She didn’t hear the ladder creak beneath her. Didn’t notice the thin crack slowly forming down one leg of it. Down on the ground, Ansh was supposed to be checking the volunteers, clipboard in hand, his usual serious look in place. But his eyes kept drifting back to her.
To that ladder. Something about the way it shook every time she moved made his chest feel tight. Then it happened.
Creeeaaaak.
The sound made his heart drop. The ladder gave a violent shake Aditi let out a soft gasp, panic flashing in her eyes but she never hit the ground.
A loud thud echoed through the hall as Ansh took the fall for her. His back slammed against the wooden floor, his arms locked around her just in time. The air whooshed out of his lungs with the impact, but his hold on her remained steady. Not too tight. Just enough.
Just enough to shield her. For a few heartbeats, the world stood still.
Her face was pressed against his chest, her fingers curled gently into his shirt. His scent clean soap, fresh air, something calm filled her senses. Her own heart thudded loud in her ears, but not out of fear.
It felt warm. Safe. Strangely… okay. And she didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen like she always did when someone got too close. Instead, she stayed there. Still. Breathing. As if, for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the touch.
Ansh’s arms were careful around her, holding her like something precious but the second he became aware of it, of how closely he was holding her, his body tensed. His expression changed like guilt, or fear, or both had crept into his mind.
He slowly loosened his grip, hands withdrawing gently as if he was afraid of hurting her, of doing the wrong thing.
He didn’t say a word as he shifted, lying there for a second longer with his gaze fixed somewhere else anywhere but her face. His jaw clenched, and his palms pressed flat against the stage floor, grounding himself as if steadying emotions that were close to breaking through.
Aditi blinked, pulling back, disoriented. Her skin still tingled where his hands had been. Her body still remembered the way he’d caught her. It wasn’t fear that echoed in her chest it was confusion.
And something else. Something she didn’t have a name for. She looked at him.He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Then came his voice low, rough, quiet like it had traveled a long way through his chest to reach her. “Tum theek ho?”
She nodded slowly, voice softer than before. “Haan… Aap theek hain??”
His eyes remained on the ground. “Main theek hoon.”
And then, still without looking up, he got to his feet. The silence between them stretched almost delicate, like if they spoke too loudly, something inside them would shatter.
Then, he did something unexpected. He extended his hand.
Palm open. Waiting. No pressure. Just… there. Aditi stared at it for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat. Not because she was scared But because she wasn’t.
Something about that simple gesture his stillness, his silence, the way he waited without pushing it reached somewhere deep inside her. Somewhere she had kept locked away.
Her hand moved before her mind could stop it. She placed her fingers into his. His grip was careful. Secure. He pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. And the moment she was standing, he let go.
He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at her really looked at her with eyes that held too many emotions he wasn’t ready to name. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense, but his gaze was focused solely on her, like the rest of the world had gone quiet.
And when he finally spoke, his voice wasn’t loud but it cut through the air like a thread pulled too tight. “tum… itni carelessness ke sath kaise ispar chad sakti ho?”
Aditi blinked, caught off guard not just by the sharpness of the question, but by the weight it carried. Like it came from somewhere deeper than just concern. Like it meant more than he was letting on.
“Main careful thi, I just…” she started, voice soft.
“Careful hoti toh girti nahi,” he interrupted, the words slipping out in frustration. He ran a hand down his face, as if trying to shake off the panic that had surged through him.
Then quieter barely above a whisper, like it wasn’t meant for her ears he muttered,
“Agar main wahan nahi hota toh… kya hota pata bhi hai tumhe?”
And there it was. That flicker of something unguarded in his eyes. Fear. Not because she fell. But because for a split second, he’d imagined a world where she had… and he hadn’t been there to catch her.
Aditi’s breath hitched. She had never seen him like this Ansh, the quiet, composed head boy. The one everyone respected, the one who rarely showed more than he needed to. And yet, here he was. Standing one step away like he wanted to reach for her, but didn’t dare.
“I’m fine,” she said again, but this time her voice wavered slightly. She didn’t know why. Maybe because her heart hadn’t slowed down since the fall. Maybe because something about his words had made it race even faster.
He gave a small, curt nod and looked away, like he couldn’t trust himself to meet her gaze for too long. Then, clearing his throat, he said with a quiet sigh, “Bas agli baar… kisi ko sath main rakhna ya kisi aur se karva lena.”
His voice had dropped lower again not scolding now. Just tired. As if the idea of her being hurt had worn something thin inside him.
Aditi stared at him. And something inside her twisted. She didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t discomfort. It was something soft. Something strange. She should have stepped back. Should have drawn her usual line of distance like she always did when people got too close. Like she always had to.
But this time… she didn’t want to. Not with him. Because for a fleeting moment, when she had been in his arms when her fingers had clutched his shirt and her face had been buried in his shoulder it hadn’t felt wrong. It had felt steady. Safe. Warm. And real.
But that confused her more than the fall ever could. And she didn’t know what scared her more The ladder breaking beneath her feet…
Or the way he had quietly shaken something inside her without even trying. Ansh stayed where he was, still not meeting her eyes, hands clenched slightly at his sides like he was holding something back.
Because he was. Because if he looked at her a second longer, he was afraid she’d see it all Everything he’d been hiding since the first time their paths had crossed. And that terrified him. More than anything else ever had.
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That’s all for this chapter!
I truly hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed pouring my heart into writing it.
Until then, stay safe, stay happy, and never stop reading or dreaming.
See you all in the next chapter! 💫
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