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कोई बोले, दरिया है (कैसा-कैसा है इस्क़)
कोई माने, सहरा है (कैसा-कैसा है इस्क़)
कोई बोले, दरिया है (कैसा-कैसा है इस्क़)
कोई माने, सहरा है (कैसा-कैसा है इस्क़)
कोई सोने सा तोले रे, कोई माटी सा बोले रे
कोई बोले कि चाँदी का है छुरा
होता ऐसे ये मौक़े पे, रोका जाए ना रोके से
अच्छा होता है, होता है ये बुराकैसा ये इस्क़ है,
अजब सा risk हैकैसा ये इस्क़ है,
अजब सा risk है (अजब सा risk है)
Vote : 45+
Coments: 55+
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The sky above was a quiet canvas of pale grey, clouds drifting like soft cotton, the wind humming low through the school’s sports field. Colorful flags danced overhead, rustling with the breeze. Laughter and chaos echoed all around as students rushed between cones and banners, excitement buzzing like electricity in the air.
But Aditi stood still. A clipboard rested loosely in her hand. Her eyes, however, weren’t watching the race formations or the flag setups. They were distant lost in a question that wouldn’t stop spinning in her mind.
Why? Why didn’t she flinch? Why didn’t her breath hitch, or her chest tighten the way it usually did whenever someone came too close? Why didn’t she panic when he caught her?
That morning played again in her head like a paused movie on loop, the way her foot had slipped off that rusted ladder rung, the flutter of fear beginning to rise, and then…
Arms. His arms. Warm and steady around her, one at her waist, the other anchoring her shoulder like he knew she’d fall. And then… silence. Not outside, but inside her. No alarm bells. No cold sweat. No urge to recoil. Only breathlessness. Only Ansh.
She didn’t understand it. Why him? What was so different about him?
Her brows furrowed slightly, the breeze brushing loose strands of her hair across her face. She was too caught in thought to notice the danger tilting toward her.
CLANK-CRASH!
A loud metallic rattle tore through the air. Her head snapped up too late. A tall flagpole had slipped from its stand, teetering wildly, and within a second…
THUD.
The heavy iron base struck her wrist with a jarring blow. Her clipboard clattered to the ground as she let out a sharp gasp, stumbling back a step, clutching her wrist with a hiss of pain.
“ohh shitt !!! Bhaaiiii! Main nahi girana chahta thaaa!” a terrified junior wailed nearby, arms flailing as he tried and failed to stop the pole’s fall.
Just then, Vivaan came skidding into the scene, with Ansh right behind him. Vivaan’s eyes widened as he saw Aditi crouched, cradling her wrist. His jaw dropped.
“Yeh kya ho raha hai yaar yahaan?! Yeh tum sab flags laga rhe ho ya gilli danda khel rhe ho?!” he roared, arms flailing dramatically. The poor junior looked like he was going to faint.
Vivaan turned full chaos mode on. He pointed at the boy with theatrical disbelief.
“Tujhe kisne bola tha pole straight karne ko?! Olympic medal jeetna tha tujhe kya?!” Then spinning dramatically to Ansh “Dekha bhaiya?!School ke sports day ke naam pe yeh log murder attempt kar rahe hain!”
Ansh didn’t respond. His focus was completely on Aditi. “Sorry didi… sorry bhaiya… galti se gir gaya,” the junior sniffled, practically hiding behind another student now.
Vivaan gave him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “galti se to tera dimaag bhi kaam karna band ho jata hai, yeh pole kaise gira diya tumlogo ne?! tumhare hatho main jaan bhi hai ya bss haddi leker baithe ho?!”
Aditi gave a soft shake of her head, her voice calm despite the pain. “It’s okay, really. It was just an accident, kuch nhii hua”
Her entire focus was on the sting from her wrist, the blood slowly staining her sleeve, but what truly made her heart race wasn’t the injury itself it was the overwhelming wave of panic that coursed through her veins.
She had seen the blood first. It had crept up her wrist in a thin line, but what made her freeze wasn’t the sight of it.
Vivaan’s voice cut through her thoughts as he leapt forward. “Aree ruk ruk ruk, khoon nikal raha hai! Wait, let me see ” His hands reached for her wrist, but the moment his fingers were near her, something inside Aditi snapped.
Without thinking, without control, her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She flinched violently so hard it felt like her whole body jerked backward. Her eyes widened in raw panic, her breath shallow and fast. The force with which she shoved his hand away startled even her.
“Don’t…!” she gasped, the words escaping in a sharp breath. Her entire being screamed to run, to escape the touch, to pull away from the overwhelming closeness that had paralyzed her. She didn’t want him near her. Not like this.
And then, in an instant, the weight of her actions hit her. She had reacted so forcefully, so instinctively. Her heart thundered in her chest, the panic spiraling. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, hadn’t meant to shove him away so violently.
“I…I didn’t mean to…Vivaan, I’m so sorry…!” she stumbled over the words, her voice shaking, barely above a whisper, her gaze dropping to the ground, avoiding his eyes. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, she couldn’t shake the raw discomfort that swelled inside her.
Vivaan stood there, staring at her, stunned. The playful, teasing boy that Aditi was used to seeing had disappeared, replaced by confusion and something deeper concern, maybe even hurt. He took a step back, unsure of how to react, his expression softening as he tried to piece together the puzzle.
“Woah…hey…it’s okay, I was just…” he began, but his words were cut off as she backed away, clutching her wrist against her chest, like it was the only thing that could keep her grounded. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, and her body felt like it was trembling from the inside out.
It wasn’t the injury. It wasn’t the blood. It was the touch. The closeness. The feeling of being vulnerable, exposed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice barely a breath, her chest tight with the weight of an emotion she couldn’t put into words. Her legs carried her away before she even realized what she was doing. She turned sharply, her steps quick and desperate as she ran, past the tents, past the students straight toward the medical room. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.
Vivaan stood frozen in the middle of the chaos, the silence ringing in his ears after her sudden departure. His mind was reeling. What just happened? He glanced around, but no one seemed to understand either. His eyes flickered to Ansh, but the other boy was… different.
Ansh wasn’t reacting with the same confusion.
Ansh’s focus was entirely on Aditi’s retreating form. His eyes were locked on her, tracking her every movement as she disappeared into the building. The way she had flinched, the panic in her eyes it was unmistakable.
Without another word, Ansh’s hands moved decisively. He shoved the clipboard into Vivaan’s hands, the urgency in his voice sharp and clear.
“Tu dekh lena yahaan sab, aur kisi ko pole ke paas mat jaane dena.”
Vivaan blinked, still reeling from the confusion. He looked at Ansh, wanting an explanation, but Ansh’s face was unreadable, the intensity of his gaze fixed in one direction.
“Main Aditi ko dekh kar aata hoon. Bleeding jyada lag rahi hai.”
The words were clipped, final. Ansh’s voice had dropped, leaving no room for argument. Vivaan stood there for a moment, bewildered. What just happened?
But Ansh was already gone. He was running fast, desperate and Vivaan could only watch as Ansh disappeared into the distance, his mind still trying to grasp what had just unfolded.
Ansh was already piecing it together. The panic, the avoidance. It was more than just a physical reaction to pain. And that terrified him more than anything.
Ansh’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, the soft rhythm of his shoes steady yet urgent, as his eyes locked onto Aditi ahead. She was walking quickly, but her posture was off. She was hunched slightly, her left hand tightly gripping her wrist, her sleeve now stained crimson with blood.
The sight of it made Ansh’s chest tighten with worry, and before he could stop himself, he called out, his voice sharp with concern, “Aditi!”
She froze, her head whipping around to meet his gaze. The moment their eyes met, there was a flicker of something in her expression guilt, confusion, and pain. And it made something in Ansh ache.
He reached her quickly, his eyes falling immediately to her wrist. It was worse than he had thought. The blood had soaked through the white fabric of her sleeve and was still slowly dripping, staining the pale material deeper with each second.
“It’s still bleeding pretty badly,” Ansh said, his voice calm, but there was an edge of worry beneath the words that even Aditi could hear.
Without waiting for her response, his hand moved to the inside pocket of his blazer. He pulled out a crisp, white handkerchief, always neatly folded, the fabric as pristine as the care in his actions. It was the kind of gesture that, without him realizing it, held so much meaning the simple act of him trying to take care of her without hesitation.
“Here, wrap this. It’ll slow it down.”
Aditi hesitated, her eyes flicking between his concerned face and the handkerchief in his hand. There was a fleeting moment where she could feel her heart thudding against her chest, the warmth of his proximity making her feel both grounded and confused at the same time.
She took the handkerchief from him, her fingers brushing against his for the briefest of moments just enough to send a ripple through her. She quickly wrapped it around her wrist, her movements tentative. But the cloth soaked through too quickly, the blood staining it in an instant.
Ansh’s gaze darkened slightly, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. His eyes lingered on the bandaged wound for a moment, the silent worry in his expression betraying the calmness in his tone.
Without another word, he gently stepped closer, guiding her forward, his hand hovering just behind her. He was careful not to touch her, yet the instinct to reach out, to comfort her, felt almost unbearable. His movements were slow, deliberate he didn’t want to startle her, not after what had happened earlier.
“Let me help you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a tenderness in his words, a softness that he couldn’t keep hidden, and it felt like his heart was pulling him in a direction he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Aditi said nothing, but her pace slowed, as if the simple fact that he was there, beside her, gave her a sense of safety she couldn’t understand. Her breath was still shallow, but now, it wasn’t the sharp panic from earlier. It was something else.
Something she didn’t know how to deal with. As they reached the door to the medical room, Ansh opened it for her, standing back to allow her to go first.
The air in the medical room felt thick with tension, the soft buzz of fluorescent lights overhead the only sound. The nurse glanced up from the table, her eyes immediately widening at the sight of Aditi’s wrist.
“Oh dear! Kitna khoon nikal gaya… jaldi baitho, beta!” she said, her tone gentle but urgent as she gestured for Aditi to sit on the treatment table.
Aditi obeyed without a word, her teeth clenched against the pain. Her hand hung limp in her lap, the crimson blood still soaking the handkerchief around her wrist.
Ansh, standing beside her, remained silent, his posture stiff, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked from Aditi’s pale face to her injured wrist, the guilt he was feeling weighing down on him. He wanted to reach out, to do something anything to make her feel better, but something held him back. She was so quiet, so distant.
Before he could speak, the door to the room swung open and another teacher rushed in, half-carrying a student who had fainted on the track field.
“Nurse! Urgently…yeh bachha behosh ho gaya! Lagta hai dehydration se!” the teacher called out frantically.
The nurse’s priorities immediately snapped into place. “Aditi beta, I’ll be back in two minutes. Just hold the cloth tight,” she said quickly, her voice brisk yet caring. “Ansh, tum yahaan ho na? Help her, haan? You know what to do…clean the wound, aur antiseptic lagana, cotton yahan rakha hai.”
Before Ansh could protest or even offer help, the nurse had already rushed out of the room, hurrying toward the fainted student.
The door clicked shut, and the room suddenly felt much quieter. Aditi sat motionless, her face pale and strained with the pain, her hand still cradling the blood-soaked cloth.
Ansh exhaled a shaky breath, trying to steady himself as he reached for the tray of supplies on the counter. The sharp clink of bottles, the rustling of gauze, and the soft scent of antiseptic filled the room, but it all felt so distant. The only thing that truly mattered right now was Aditi.
He walked over slowly, his movements deliberate, as if every step toward her was weighted with something he couldn’t name. Kneeling down in front of her, his eyes flickered between her wrist and her face.
The silence between them felt heavy almost suffocating. Ansh’s voice was a mere whisper, his tone softer than he’d intended, almost as if he were afraid to break the fragile moment.
“Can I?” he asked gently, his voice barely above a breath.
Aditi’s eyes met his for a long moment. In the quiet of the room, her gaze seemed to search his face maybe for reassurance, maybe for something else. She didn’t speak. The silence stretched, hanging between them like a fragile thread.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
It was such a small movement, almost imperceptible, but it was enough. The quiet trust in that single motion made something shift in Ansh. His heart clenched, and the weight of it all settled over him like a wave. She had trusted him enough to let him help her even when she hadn’t wanted to be touched.
Ansh’s hands moved with deliberate precision as he pulled on the gloves, the soft rustle of latex the only sound in the otherwise still room. His eyes never left the wound, studying it with a concentration that bordered on intense. The gash was deeper than he had first thought his brow furrowed slightly, his jaw tightening with a quiet resolve.
He gingerly unwrapped the blood-soaked handkerchief, revealing the skin beneath, matted with blood. His gaze softened with concern, but he didn’t rush. He didn’t touch her not even by accident because he understood. This was different. This was about more than just treating the wound. This was about respecting the space she needed.
Using the edge of a fresh cotton pad, Ansh began cleaning the area around the gash with careful, measured movements. His touch was so light, so gentle, that it almost seemed like he was afraid of breaking something fragile something irreplaceable.
Aditi watched him in silence, taking in how methodical he was, how soft his hands were despite their strength. There was something about the way he worked the meticulous care, the calm presence that made the room feel smaller, quieter. She wasn’t just the girl with a bleeding wrist to him. She was someone he genuinely wanted to make sure was okay.
“Yeh thoda sa jalega.” His voice broke the silence, low and soft, yet with a warmth that felt comforting despite the tension in the air.
She nodded, her throat tight, bracing herself for the sting.
Ansh dabbed the antiseptic gently, barely touching her skin. It burned just a little but she didn’t pull away. She stayed still, her breath catching as the liquid spread across the wound. She flinched, just slightly, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Ansh’s hand froze for a fraction of a second. His gaze flickered to her face, but Aditi’s eyes were squeezed shut, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Slowly, Ansh continued. His movements were even more tender now like he was handling something precious. He wasn’t just treating the wound; he was offering her a sense of calm amidst the storm that had exploded in her chest.
The silence between them deepened, but it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something entirely different something quiet and intimate, as though the world outside the room had ceased to exist.
She could feel the care in every motion he made the slow, deliberate way he wrapped the bandage around her wrist, the way his fingers never brushed her skin. She could almost feel his respect, his consideration for her boundaries, his need to make sure she was okay without pushing her too much.
Even when he finished, when the last loop of the bandage was secured, he didn’t stand immediately. He sat back slightly, looking at her for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in the air between them. The space they shared felt charged now, like something had changed,something that neither of them had expected.
“It’s done,” Ansh murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Aditi looked down at her wrist, taking in the clean bandage. Her heart was still racing, but not from the pain anymore. She looked back up at him, her eyes soft, and for a moment, she forgot to hide the vulnerability in her gaze.
“Thank you… for treating it so carefully.” Her voice was quiet, almost shy, but the gratitude was unmistakable.
Ansh gave her a small nod, his expression softening. He rose to his feet, moving to set the supplies aside, but Aditi’s voice stopped him.
“And sorry apka hankerchief ganda hogya, blood stains jaldi jaate bhi nahi hai ” she added, a playful grin tugging at her lips, trying to lighten the mood.
Ansh let out a quiet breath of amusement, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His eyes crinkled slightly, the warmth in them making his whole face soften.
“Doesn’t matter. It’ll still have your essence,” he replied with a small shrug.
Aditi’s smile faltered for half a second. She hadn’t expected that response so simple, yet so unexpectedly sincere. Something shifted inside her at that moment, something soft and fragile that she didn’t know how to handle.
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating faster in her chest. That one line so quiet, so understated touched something deep inside her, something she had been keeping locked away. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel the weight of his care, the warmth of his words
The peaceful, almost cinematic silence in the medical room was utterly demolished. The door slammed open like a Bollywood climax, and chaos walked in—shouting.
“Aditi!”
“MAR GAYII KYAA?!”
“Where’s the khoon?!”
“TERA HAATH KAAT DIYA KYAA?!”
“WHO DID THIS?! MAIN USKA KHOON KAR DUNGI!”
A literal stampede crashed into the room.
Vivaan came sprinting in first, face red and breath heavy. “TU KYUN BHAAG GAYI YAAR?!” he yelled. “mujhe laga maine hi kuch to nahii kar diya kya!”
Priya zipped past him, her eyes already welling up. “Why didn’t you tell anyone, Aditi?! Kitna cut laga hai?! teri shirt to poori stain hogyii hai dikha mujhe!” she said, holding Aditi’s hand like she’d just returned from war.
Shagun, storming in with a death glare, didn’t wait a second. “WHO? WHO DID THIS?! maine bola tha na flags ke group mein kuch off tha?! kaamchor bachhe bhare hue h usme, Bata na, I’ll break their knee and faces.” She was halfway to grabbing a steel tray like a weapon.
Ruhaan arrived last, dramatically flopping into the nearest nurse’s chair like a star in distress. “Main toh sirf fries lene gaya tha… aur yahan toh full climax chal raha tha. How dare this drama unfold without me?!” He stared at Aditi’s bandage with mock betrayal.
Then, like the eye of the storm, Prateek entered still, silent, intense.
“Tu theek hai?? Zyada dard ho raha hai?”He didn’t shout. He didn’t ask twenty questions. He just walked straight to Aditi, looked at her wrapped wrist… and then at her face. His voice was low but deep with emotion.
Aditi shook her head gently, her voice calm despite the chaos. “Main theek hoon. Chill karo sab. Sirf thoda sa hi cut tha.” She nodded toward Ansh, still standing like a very tired soldier in a battlefield of maniacs. “Inhone treat kar diya.”
And just like that, five pairs of eyes turned in perfect sync toward Ansh. Target locked.
Ruhaan gasped, standing up with theatrical outrage. “Mr. Head Boy turned mrs. nurse today! Look at that calm! That precision!”
And then the nurse, finally returning from attending the unconscious student, froze at the doorway.
Her eyes bulged. “Yeh kya bazaar laga rakha hai?! Yeh medical room hai, fish market nahi!”
Everyone jumped like guilty kids. The nurse marched in. “Vivaan! Yeh medical room hai ya tumhara concert stadium nahi?!”
Vivaan blinked innocently. “Nurse ma’am, please main toh bas emotional support provide kar raha hoon. Meri presence hi therapy haina isliye.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tumhara presence migraine hai. Aur agar kisi aur ka BP badha na… to main tum sabko suspend karva dungi.”
The nurse shot Ruhaan a glare. “Aur tum Ruhaan kaha baithe ho kuch idea hai tumhe?” making him jump off the chair like an innocent puppy and murmur sorry.
the nurse then said in stern voice “sab ke sab bahar niklo! Patient rest karegi.”
Shagun mumbled, “Rest? Is she gonna nap like a princess?”
Aditi finally burst into laughter, clutching her bandaged hand. “You guys are impossible.”
But deep inside, as the gang continued arguing with the nurse about emotional shock management and Vivaan asked if he could be trained as Assistant Nurse 2.0, Aditi’s heart remained oddly, quietly… full.
Because even in this whirlwind of madness One person had knelt before her. Gently. Calmly. Like she wasn’t a chaotic mess, but someone worth slowing down for.
And that one line still lingered like a soft echo in the back of her heart:
“Doesn’t matter. It’ll still have your essence.”
and that was fully noticed by shagun the softness Aditi is holding in her eyes for Ansh was something she has witnessed for the first time in Aditi.
The medical room had finally quieted down after the hurricane of friends and drama.
The nurse had stormed off muttering, “Yeh school nahi, saas-bahu serial ka set lagta hai,” leaving Aditi alone with her thoughts and the lingering echo of “Doesn’t matter. It’ll still have your essence.”
The door creaked open again.
“Knock knock, dumbo. Still bleeding internally from romantic confusion, or has the hemorrhage stopped?” Shagun’s voice floated in like a breeze before she entered, holding a box of juice and a pack of glucose biscuits like offerings.
Shagun sat beside her on the bed, watching her with that look the look best friends had. The one that saw everything you were trying to hide.
After a beat, she asked softly, “Wrist theek hai?”
Aditi nodded. “Yeah. Doesn’t hurt much now.”
A pause. Then
“Aur… dil ka kya haal hai, meri heroine?”
“Shagun!”Aditi choked on her juice.
“What? I’m just asking as a concerned citizen of your love life!” Shagun smirked, clearly enjoying every second.
“There is. No. Love life.” Aditi hissed, turning away to sip her juice like it was suddenly the most fascinating object on Earth.
Shagun bumped her shoulder. “Sahi hai. matlab ab tu keh rahi ki ansh bhaiya ne bade hi pyaar se teri chot treat kari hai aut tujhe kuch bhi nahi hua?”
Aditi was red now. Fully, obviously red.
“I—” she started. Then stopped. “He was just… helping. Like anyone would.”
Shagun raised a brow. “Anyone, huh? Matlab abhi chuhe ko bol du ye sab karne ko to chalega tujhe kya?”
Aditi looked horrified. “NO! Ew! That’s not…ugh, Shagun!”
Shagun laughed so hard she had to grab her stomach. “Exactly. So stop lying to me and yourself, Miss”
Aditi groaned. “Shagun, please. I’m literally begging you no more drama.”
but with a devil’s grin she said. “No drama? Bhai, tu stage se bhi giri thi and Ansh bhaiya literally lunged to catch you like you were his precious thing falling. Tu bata how do you expect me to be calm?”
Aditi visibly flinched. “kuch bhi mat bol theek hai? I just tripped.”
now shagun gaining her sarcasm said “Oh sure. You gracefully descended from the heavens into his arms while tripping. How poetic.”
Aditi buried her face in her hands. “Please shut up. Please. Just five minutes of peace.”
Shagun grinned wider. “Why? taaki tu phir se Ansh bhaiya ke khayalo main kho jaye, haan… while your heartbeat performed a rock concert in your chest?”
Aditi smacked her lightly with her uninjured hand. “He was just helping. He was being… kind.”
“Right. And I’m just here for the biscuits. Aditi, he didn’t just treat your cut, he treated your soul. Tu andhii ho gyii hai kya ya phir tu dekhna nahii chahti… jiss tarah se tune ground Vivaan ko push kiya tha uss tarah se tune ansh bhaiya ko push kyuu nahi kara phir?? dekha to tune bhi h unki ankho main jis tarah vo tujhe dekhte h aur kisi ko bhi nhii dekhte sachii not even Priya”
Aditi froze, clutching the juice box tighter. Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know what I’m feeling, Shagun.” She looked down. “It’s like… something’s shifting. But I can’t grab it. I can’t name it.”
Shagun’s teasing faded for a beat. She leaned in a little, resting her chin on Aditi’s shoulder. “That’s okay. You don’t have to name it. You just have to let yourself feel it.”
Aditi gave her a helpless look. “But it’s scary.”
“Feelings are always scary. You think I wasn’t terrified when I realised I liked…” Shagun trailed off quickly and cleared her throat, then bounced back with a grin. “ANYWAY point is you didn’t run when he caught you on stage. You didn’t push him away in the medical room as well. That’s a start, na?”
Aditi gave her a deadpan look. “I was literally bleeding. I didn’t have time to analyze the moment, Shagun.”
Shagun stood up dramatically, brushing invisible dust off her pants. “You had time to stare into his eyes like a slow-mo heroine while he bandaged your soul. Don’t lie. Also, I have to go arrange the footballs now because clearly no one else is capable.”
She headed to the door, but paused grinning.
“Oh, ik baat batau…when you fell, he didn’t even hesitate. Just caught you like it was instinct. Like you were… important.”
“bhaag ja yaha see.” Aditi flung a tissue at her, missing by a mile.
Shagun winked at her dramatically before exiting with a salute. “Catch flights, not feelings, my love. But oops you already caught one!”
The door clicked shut behind her. Aditi sat there, cheeks still warm, eyes falling to her bandaged wrist. She ran her thumb gently across the edge of the cloth.
“Doesn’t matter. It’ll still have your essence.”
The line looped again. And this time… she didn’t fight it. She just let it sit with her for a while.
***************************************
The sun was low, casting honey-gold slants of light into the school playground, painting the world in that soft filter only seen in dramas and dreams. The crowd had long dispersed after the peparations of inter-house sports event. What remained were fading chalk lines, empty water bottles, and an echoing silence occasionally broken by the distant thud of a football hitting the fence.
Inside the equipment room, chaos had another name: Shagun.
Sweat beaded her forehead as she wrestled with an armful of basketballs and volleyballs that refused to stay still on the ancient, rickety shelf. She was already halfway up a precariously tilted wooden stool, muttering curses that could set the school walls on fire.
“Upar jaa na… gir mat… great.” She pushed a stubborn basketball harder, her foot wobbling slightly on the edge. Her ponytail had half-escaped its tie, and there was a victorious streak of dust right across her cheekbone.
“Mujhe toh free period mila hi nahi, aur yeh equipment room mujhe jeevit dafnane ki koshish mein laga hai,” she grumbled under her breath, adjusting the shelf height with sheer force of will.
And then of course. The door creaked open.
“Hello, Miss Sports Manager, madad chahiye kya? Ya sach mein tum basketball ka Taj Mahal banaake uske neeche dabbne wali ho?”
Shagun closed her eyes. “Bas yeh hi ik namoona aur baaki tha…”
Ruhaan strolled in like he owned the room, one brow raised, arms crossed, leaning casually against the doorframe with the kind of confidence that could set off fire alarms.
“Kya karoon shagun yaar, Ansh ne bola tha madad kar doon. Tum clearly battlefield mein ho, aur tumhare expression dekhke toh basketball bhi dar gaya hoga.”
She didn’t even look at him. “I’m perfectly fine. Kisi dramabaaz ki zarurat nahi.”
Ruhaan walked closer anyway, scooping up a rogue football and spinning it lazily on one finger. “Tumhe toh thank you bolne ki bhi aadat nahi hai. Tumhare attitude ka weight zyada hai ya yeh footballs ka?”
“Tumhari khud ki bewajah ki entry se zyada irritating aur kuch ho hi nahi sakta.” Shagun finally got the last ball into place and turned toward him, brushing her hands off on her joggers.
“Aur tum khud ko samajhte kya ho Mr Malhotra sir… I don’t need your help.”
Ruhaan clutched his chest dramatically, football dropping with a dull thunk. “Oof. kya bol diya yaar… itna gussa karogi to tumhe Mrs Malhotra kaise banaunga mein?”
Shagun rolled her eyes and moved past him toward the box of scattered cones on the ground. “Mujhe kaam karna hai, Ruhaan. Tumhare faltu sessions ke liye mood nahi hai.”
But he followed, still grinning, still relentless.”Vaise kehna to padega uss dinn ground mein tum mera shot dekh ke impress to ho hi gayi thi tabhi to proper ghoor rahi thi mujhe… main to sharma hi gya tha…!”
She turned to him with a glare so sharp it could slice through concrete. “Main tumhe nahi ghoor rahi thi. Wahaan mitti udd rahi thi. Aankh mein chali gayi thi. Aur tumhara shot? chiii! mujhe koi intrest nahi nahi hai tumhare iss sadiyal game main.”
Ruhaan dramatically gasped. “Tumhe toh Nobel Prize milna chahiye izzat ka kabada karne ke liye. Par kya karein… tumhari baato main bhi to pyaar hi chhupa hota hai.”
Shagun crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Tum kisi bhi conversation ko flirt ka excuse kaise bana lete ho? Is it like… a hidden talent?”
He leaned a little closer, just enough to make her heartbeat trip over itself. “Talent kya… tumhari jaisi ladhki ke liye toh passion hai.”
For a moment, silence. Not awkward. Charged. That tiny flicker of breath caught in her throat, that fleeting beat she didn’t want to acknowledge. She stepped back, bumping into a box of cones with a loud crash, scattering them everywhere.
“Nice job, Romeo. Ab cones bhi tumhare dialogue se gir gaye.”
Ruhaan bent down, helping her pick them up with a grin. “Cones bhi smart hai.gire bhi to tumhare pyaar main hi meri tarah, tumhare paas hi.”
Shagun turned back to the shelf, muttering something under her breath, reaching up again to fix a football that was slightly tilted.
“Ajeeb shelf hai. Main hi mili thi isse aaj bhi…” she mumbled under her breath, stretching a little further, fingers grazing the edge.
And then…
Creak.
Her breath caught.
CRASH. THUMP. THUD.
The shelf gave way. In one horrific second, an avalanche of basketballs and footballs came crashing down from above raining chaos, speed, weight, noise.
Shagun didn’t even have time to scream. She flinched backward, but before she could even move properly, she felt it.
Arms. Around her. Strong. Steady. Holding her. Covering her.
Ruhaan. He hadn’t just stepped in front. He had wrapped himself around her.
His body curved over hers like a shield, head lowered, one arm above her head to block the falling shelf, the other around her shoulders to keep her grounded. She was tucked tightly against his chest, cocooned in his warmth, his scent, the slight tremble of his breath.
Balls hit his back. His shoulder. His side.
THUMP. THWACK. BOOF. But he didn’t move. Not even a grunt.
Shagun’s entire world blurred into the sound of his heartbeat in her ear and the warm press of his body around hers. Her hands clutched his shirt, knuckles white. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly.
It was that sudden, overwhelming sense of being protected.Of someone choosing, without hesitation, to stand between her and the storm. Of care. Real, bone-deep care. Something she hadn’t known she craved until that moment. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The last ball rolled away with a soft, pathetic bounce across the dusty floor.
Silence. His arms stayed around her a moment longer. Just enough for her to feel it wasn’t instinct. It was deliberate. Slowly, Ruhaan shifted back, just far enough to meet her gaze. His hand brushed her shoulder as he pulled away, gently. Not a single joke on his lips.
His voice was low, hoarse. “Tum… theek ho?”
Shagun stared at him, words lodged somewhere deep in her chest. Her eyes stung, not from dust, but from something far more confusing. No one had ever done that for her. Not like this.
“Ruhaan…” she whispered, her voice breaking softly. “Tumhe chot toh…?”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, giving her the smallest smile, though his wince said otherwise. “Vaise bhi Balls ki maar se toh bacha hi sakta hoon tumhe.”
She blinked at him, her heart pounding so violently she felt it in her throat. Her fingers, still trembling, hovered near his chest. She didn’t even know why. She wasn’t the type to reach out. But for some reason, she wanted to. Just to feel that he was real.
“Kyun…?” she asked quietly, eyes searching his.
His reply was instant.
“Because,” he said softly, “agar tumhe kuch ho jaata toh… I couldn’t live with that Shagun… tum matter karti ho.”
That last part hit her like a second avalanche,one she wasn’t ready for. Her breath hitched again. Ruhaan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, that same serious look on his face that stripped away all his usual charm and chaos.
And in that moment, something inside her cracked. Not shattered. Not broken. Just… cracked enough to let something in. She swallowed. “Tum… idiot ho.”
His lips curled into a grin. Familiar, but softer now. “Tumhara idiot to ban hi sakta hoon…?”
Her eyes widened. She tried to roll them, but her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to say something. Deny everything. Laugh it off. But her voice, her walls, were betraying her. Before she could answer, he stepped back with a wince and started gathering the balls.
“Relax, Shagun,” he said, tossing one back onto the shelf with lazy precision. “Main propose nahi kar raha hoon. Bas… agar first aid ki zarurat ho toh bula lena. Volunteer duty mein hoon. Sirf tumhare liye.”
And then he winked. Just slightly. But not in his usual dramatic way. Like a secret. Like a promise. Shagun stood frozen for a moment, watching him. Watching the way he moved, the way he winced but still smiled, the way her chest refused to stop tightening.
And then the flashback strucked her again…
The chandelier lights cast long shadows on the marble floor. The air was too quiet, too still, like even the house had stopped breathing.
Five-year-old Shagun sat at the edge of the staircase, her tiny feet dangling, bunny clutched tight to her chest. Its ear was fraying from how often she held it. Her eyes were puffy, tear tracks dried on her cheeks, and her voice… barely more than a whisper.
“Mumma… tab wapash aayengi?” she had asked the nanny earlier in her baby voice.
The nanny didn’t answer.
No one ever answered.
It had been six months since the accident. Since her mother’s bangles stopped jingling through the hallways. Since her warm hands stopped braiding Shagun’s hair every morning. Since Shagun had been kissed goodnight.
Six whole months… of cold silence.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Shagun’s head lifted with a jolt of hope.
Maybe he was finally coming to hold her. To tell her he missed Mumma too. To hug her. To cry with her.
“Papa?” she called out, scrambling up and running toward the door.
But instead of open arms, she saw Shreya.
Long painted nails. Heavy makeup. A flashy red saree that shimmered too much. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes it never did. She looked like a guest pretending to be the queen of the house.
And behind her was Papa.Not with sad eyes.But smiling.Laughing softly as he adjusted his tie.Shagun’s heart skipped. She ran forward, bunny dragging in one hand.
“Papa!” she cried, tugging his shirt. “Aap… aap mudhe dodi main utha lo na. Peleeasu?”
Suresh looked down, startled. For a second just a second his expression faltered.
But then Shreya’s hand slipped into his.
She bent slightly and said in a too-sweet voice, “Beta, abhi Papa busy hain. We’re going for our honeymoon. Just two weeks, okay?”
Shagun blinked, confused. “Huneyymoon? Matlab… dhoomne jaa lahe ho?”
Suresh tried to speak, but Shreya interrupted, sharp this time, her smile vanishing the moment Suresh wasn’t looking. “Don’t cling to him, Shagun. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”
“I-I want to go too…” Shagun stammered. “Main bhi thalu apte sath? Main thup thaap lahungi. Peromise.”
Shreya’s eyes narrowed. She crouched just enough so only Shagun could hear her low whisper. “This isn’t your place anymore. You’re just… extra baggage.”
Shagun froze.Her bunny slipped from her hand.She turned to her father with wide, glassy eyes. “Papa… aap mudhe pyaar nahi talte tya?”
He looked away.Shreya grabbed his arm, cheerful again. “Suresh, we’re getting late.”
He nodded.And walked out.
Shagun’s tiny voice trembled as she screamed after him. “PAPA! Papa mudhe thod ke mat dao na! Main achhi bacchi ban daungi! Mujhe gusshha bhi nahi aata ab! Peleease, mudhe bhi pyaar taro!”
The front door slammed shut. And Shagun stood there. Alone. The only sound was the ticking of the antique clock above the mantel.
The new nanny came and tried to lift her, but Shagun jerked away. She picked up her bunny and ran up the stairs, to her mother’s old room, slamming the door behind her.
She buried her face in the pillow that still smelled like jasmine. And that night… She didn’t cry loudly. She went silent.
Like someone had turned off the switch inside her. Like her heart had decided it was safer not to feel.
Shagun blinked, the present crashing back around her. She felt disoriented, her chest tight, as if her heart had just broken open. The memory of that moment her father walking out, leaving her in the empty house, alone with a stranger flooded her in a way it hadn’t in years.
She felt the sting of it all over again. And in the next second, Ruhaan’s voice, that familiar teasing tone, broke through her haze.
“Tumhare liye toh dobara girne ko bhi ready hoon, bas haan bol ke to dekho.”
Shagun stood still, her eyes locked on him. He was still bent over, picking up the last few footballs like it was nothing, but to her, it felt like everything.
Her breath caught in her throat.
No one had ever done that for her. No one had ever jumped in to protect her without thinking, without hesitation.
Why?
She wasn’t sure why, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel abandoned in that moment. She felt… cared for.
She could feel the wall she had spent so many years building inside her start to crumble, just a little. Her hands twitched, as if they wanted to reach out, to touch him, to somehow anchor herself to this unfamiliar, yet comforting feeling.
Her voice trembled as she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear, “Ruhaan… why did you do that? Why did you”
He glanced up at her, the usual teasing light in his eyes softened. “What else was I supposed to do, Shagun? Tumhare upar gir jaate toh… zindagi bhar guilt rehta. Tum… important ho mere liye.”
The words lingered in the air, thick and heavy.
Shagun blinked rapidly, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She bit her lip to stop them, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl crying alone in the dark. But in that moment, the rush of raw, untamed emotions overwhelmed her.
She didn’t need to ask him again why he’d done it. She already knew the answer.
And somehow… in that broken, vulnerable moment, she realized that for once, someone actually cared. Not out of obligation, not because he had to but because she mattered.
******************************************
That’s all for this chapter, Bubbles…✨
I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I genuinely loved writing it.
Thank you so so much for reading, supporting, and just being here.
Until next time,
stay kind, stay curious, and keep those imaginations delulu and dreamy! 💗
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