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दुनिया दीवानी, इश्क ना जाने
दुनिया दीवानी, इश्क ना जाने
दिल तो बस दिल को पहचाने
नैनों से नैना टकराये
न जाने क्या ढूँढे अँखियाँ
नैनों से नैना टकराये
न जाने क्या ढूँढे अँखियाँ
कैसे तुम्हें ये समझाये
न जाने क्या ढूँढे अँखियाँ
__________________________________
All the silence in the room shattered the moment Aditi walked in, carrying a tray full of steaming Maggi, followed by Samaira with cold drinks clinking softly on another tray. The comforting aroma tried to sneak into the tension-filled air, but the expressions on everyone’s faces told a different story-blank, unsure, and heavy.
She paused mid-step, brows furrowing slightly.
“Kya baat hai, itni shanti kaise ho gayi aaj… vo bhi chuhe ke hote hue…??” she teased, her tone light, eyes dancing with curiosity as she scanned the room, trying to understand the static in the air.
Her voice snapped everyone out of the dense fog they were lost in. One look at her-and it hit them again. How can she just act like nothing happened? How flawlessly she wrapped her pain in that familiar, casual smile, as if grief was just another outfit she chose not to wear.
Vivaan, desperate to diffuse the weight, clapped his hands together and exclaimed dramatically, “Arey kuch nahi yaar… ye Ruhaan bhaiya na, Kundan ban rahe hain ‘Raanjhanaa’ movie ke… aur Shagun se bezatti karwa ke aa gaye hain fir se. To unhi ke liye shok mana rahe hain hum sab.” He nodded solemnly toward Ruhaan, who now looked utterly bewildered.
“Mainne kya kar diya ab??” Ruhaan asked, frowning in genuine confusion.
“Ye lo… bhoolna to koi in mahashay se seekhe,” Shagun muttered with a dramatic eye-roll, making exaggerated eye gestures at Ruhaan-clearly an inside joke, a cue for him to play along. The mission “Don’t let Aditi know anything.”
And Ruhaan, catching the cue albeit a beat too late, chuckled nervously.
“Uhhh haaa haaa… vo Ansh ne bola tha flirt karunga to Shagun maan jaayegi… par ye to poori planning ke sath beizzati kar deti hai ki kahin se bachoon bhi na main!” he blurted out, pointing at Ansh, who nearly choked on his own saliva.
Ansh shot him a what-the-hell look and hissed, “Maine kab bola ye??”, mouthing silently to Ruhaan in disbelief.
Aditi, now entirely lost in the whirlwind, turned to Ansh with raised brows, half-amused.
“Yeh kab se inn sab mein ghusne lage??” she asked, narrowing her eyes in playful suspicion.
Ansh, scrambling to protect his image, deflected instantly.
“Maine toh kuch nahi bola, idea Prateek ka tha! Maine toh bas… messenger ka kaam kiya tha.”
Prateek, completely unprepared for the blame pass, flailed, “Haan vo… mujhe bhi Aman bhaiya ne idea diya tha. Maine toh bas bol diya!”
Aman, caught mid-sip of his drink, coughed. “Mujhe kyu laa rahe ho beech mein?!”
Aditi couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Kamaal hai Aman bhaiya… Samaira didi ne seekhaya hai kya aapko ye sab? Aap toh aise kabhi nahi the!”
Before Aman could reply, Samaira stepped in like a seasoned peacekeeper.
“Arey chhod na Adu… sabko Maggi de, thandi ho jaayegi. Baad mein dekh lenge inka, inka toh roz ka hi hai!” she smiled, expertly redirecting the energy, handing out bowls like a seasoned air hostess in turbulence.
Everyone grabbed their bowls of Maggi-partly for the comfort, partly to avoid further questioning. The laughter lingered, but beneath it was a quiet unspoken pact: keep the atmosphere light, don’t let her feel it again.
“Haan aur pehle hi bata rahi hoon,” Aditi declared loudly, lifting her finger like a school principal laying down rules, “zyada spicy lage toh mujhe gaaliyan mat dena… main sunungi nahi!” Her eyes narrowed on Vivaan in particular. “Specially you, chuhe…”
Vivaan froze mid-bite, staring into his bowl like it had betrayed him. The Maggi wasn’t just red-it was lava red. He gulped, blinking at the bowl with the kind of fear usually reserved for exam results or horror movies.
“Yaar tujhe nahi lagta Maggi thodi yellow hoti hai? Ye to tune lal kar di… jaise ketchup se revenge le rahi ho!” he whimpered, looking at Aditi with wide, pleading eyes-as if she were about to ground him for life.
Aditi smirked, flicking her spoon dramatically. “Pyaar se banayi hai… jale pe namak, mirch, aur tadka daal ke!”
Before Vivaan could plead for an antacid, Priya shot him a deadly glare.
“Arey chup kar aur kha! Itni tasty hai… Maggi kha ke toh dekh!” She sounded exactly like an Indian mom defending her swaadisht khana, ready to disown anyone who disagreed.
Vivaan made the universal face of a man who knew resistance was futile and took a cautious bite like he was diffusing a bomb.
Meanwhile, Priya patted the couch next to her, motioning to Aditi like a strict warden assigning beds in a hostel.
“Aur tu apni Maggi leke aa… idhar baith. Yahin, yahin, mere aur Shagun ke beech mein. Abhi.”
Aditi grinned, picked up her bowl like it was a trophy, and gave Priya a mock-salute.
“Okk Priya ma’am! Reporting to duty!”
She marched dramatically across the room, paused like a soldier about to leap into battle, then flopped between Priya and Shagun with a theatrical thud
The room was now buzzing again, not with silence or tension, but with chaos-fiery, mouth-burning chaos.
Vivaan had barely finished half a plate of Maggi and was already gulping down his fifth glass of cold drink like a man stranded in the Thar desert.
“Behen… galti ho gayi… ab nahi bolunga kabhi party ke liye,” he whimpered dramatically, folding his hands in front of Aditi, lips quivering and eyes welling up-not from emotion, but extreme spice trauma.
On the other couch, Priya had slumped back as if she were re-evaluating all her life decisions.
“Yaar… marna chahti thi to pehle hi bol deti… main khud hi school ki building se kood jaati… par itna teekha khila ke revenge mat le yaar…” she muttered dramatically between coughs.
Then, in the same breath, with a mouth full of Maggi”But tasty toh hai… chhodungi nahi.”
Ruhaan, half-crying and half-sweating, held up his empty cold drink glass like a white flag.
“Maaf kar Aditi… itna spice tolerance nahi hai mera… main mar jaunga to meri Shagun ka kya hoga?. Aage se main bhi party ke liye kuch nahi bolunga, pakka!”
Everyone burst into laughter at their over-the-top tantrums, yet somehow they all kept eating-painfully addicted to the taste.
But amidst all this heat and drama, Ansh sat suspiciously calm. Quietly munching away, not a single complaint. His face was red, his ears matched the color of the Maggi, and his eyes were watery-but he wasn’t saying a word. Just eating. Like a monk on a spicy meditation retreat.
Aditi, squinting, noticed.
“Achha toh hai itna… kya bakwaas kar rahe ho saare?” Ansh said coolly, putting down his empty bowl with the pride of a warrior who just defeated the spice gods.
That was it.
Ruhaan and Vivaan slowly turned toward him, their faces contorting into the most exaggerated expressions of mock betrayal.
“Bhaaiiii… tu theek to hai na?? Ya phir dimaag ka screw dheela ho gaya Maggi se?” Ruhaan said, grabbing Ansh’s face like a mom checking for fever, squinting like a doctor mid-diagnosis.
“Main toh theek hi hoon… mujhe kya hoga?” Ansh said, trying to sound normal, but the redness in his ears screamed otherwise.
“Na na naaaa… main bata raha hoon… bhaiya ko bukhaar ho gaya hai!” Vivaan said with the confidence of a scientist revealing a groundbreaking discovery.
“Itni spicy Maggi khana… aur vo bhi Ansh bhaiya? Impossible.”
Ansh tried to push Vivaan away. “Aye hatt na… door reh! Chipak mat mujhse!”
Aditi raised an eyebrow. “Kyun, aisa kya ho gaya inhe?”
Vivaan turned dramatically to her like a courtroom witness. “Main batata hoon, Aditi. Yahan jitne log hain na, sab mein se sabse kam spice tolerance Ansh bhaiya ki hi hai!”
Aditi’s jaw dropped. She looked at Ansh like he just claimed to be Spider-Man. “Seriously??”
“Haan Aditi!” Priya joined in, voice laced with mock seriousness.
“Sach mein. Bhaiya agar galti se ek bhi mirch ka tukda kha lein, to 10 glass paani pee jaate hain. Aaj bina kuch bole Maggi kha gaye?? Kuch to gadbad hai.”
Ansh, clearly panicking now, waved his hands. “Arey kya kuch bhi-“
“Achha beta, tum ruko” Ruhaan interrupted him with a devilish smirk, turning to Aditi like a seasoned gossip aunt.
“Tujhe pata hai Aditi…” he began, voice slow and dramatic, like a horror story was about to be revealed,
“Yeh bhai sahab itna spice-se-allergic hai ki ek baar humne inko sirf ek momo khilaya tha… vo bhi ittu si chutney ke saath…”
Ansh immediately stiffened. He knew. He knew what was coming.
Aditi leaned in, eyes locked like she was watching a crime documentary.
Ruhaan continued, dragging each word:
“Us ek momo ke baad… isne apni zindagi ka sabse stupid kaam kiya tha jaha tak mujhe pata hai-“
Ansh lunged toward Ruhaan like a footballer mid-tackle.
“RUHAAN CHUP HO JA-“
But too late
Vivaan, seizing the golden opportunity with the flair of a full-blown stage actor, stood up like he’d just been handed an Oscar for “Best Betrayal in a Comedy.”
He raised an invisible trophy to the sky and declared with award-winning drama:
“Us momo ke baad… ANSH BHAIYA NE…
Apna MUH… FREEZER mein daal liya tha-vo bhi POORE 1 GHANTE tak!!”
The room exploded.
It wasn’t just laughter anymore-it was chaos.
People were falling off couches, choking on Maggi, slapping their thighs, gasping for breath.
Ansh froze. Mid-pounce. Mid-rescue. Mid-any-damage-control. Eyes wide. Face pale. Soul departing.
Vivaan was half-crying from laughter, barely able to breathe, but he kept going-because betrayal has no brakes.
“Aur uske baad bhi…
CHAAR ice cubes kha gaye the…
phir bhi chilla rahe tha ‘mujhe kuch ho raha hai mujhe kuch ho raha hai!'”
Aditi collapsed into the couch, wheezing.
Her stomach hurt, her cheeks ached, and tears streamed down her face-this time, not from spice, but from pure, undiluted hilarity.
She held up a hand like she needed divine intervention.
“FREEZER???” she shrieked between giggles.
“Poore ek ghante tak?! Tu zinda kaise hai??” Prateek added
Even Aman, who was trying very hard to maintain his mature elder-brother persona, nearly dropped his cold drink.
Samaira shook her head in mock pity, adding in the sweetest, most savage tone:
“Main toh soch rahi hoon agli baar Ansh ke liye party mein dahi-chawal banwa lete hain… safe zone mein rahega, hamara head boy.”
Everyone snorted.
Priya, looking every bit like a retired nurse from a soap opera, nodded solemnly.
“Aur thoda glucose bhi. Safety first.
Waise bhi, aise logon ka blood pressure seedha emotional damage pe chala jaata hai.”
Ansh was now redder than the Maggi.
Not from heat.
Not from spice.
From betrayal, embarrassment, and utter lack of control over his own life.
And yet-he couldn’t stop the tiny, almost invisible twitch of a smile forming on his lips.
Maggi plates were half-finished, cold drinks spilled in the chaos, and everyone was wiping tears-not from the spice anymore, but from the kind of laughter that made your stomach hurt and your heart feel lighter.
In the middle of it all stood Ansh, redder than ever-not from the fiery Maggi, but from the full-on public roasting he just endured.
He stared murderously at Ruhaan and Vivaan, the kind of death glare that made you reconsider your life choices and maybe write your will.
His ears practically steamed, his lips pressed in a flat line, and his silence was louder than all the noise around him.
He slowly stood up, not saying a word. Walked toward the kitchen, stiff like a soldier walking into war.
“Arey kahaan jaa raha hai? Abhi toh teri izzat achhe se uchaali bhi nahi kisi ne,” Prateek added cheerfully, completely unaware of the walking volcano he was poking.
Ansh stopped. Slowly turned.
Everyone went still.
You could almost hear the wind outside change direction.
He gave Prateek a slow, chilling side-eye and said,
“Tu ne ab kuch bhi bola na… to dekhio tu.”
Prateek ignored his warning and continued. Audibly.
“abe jaa naa”
But before Prateek could even breathe another syllable, Ansh lunged, grabbed him by the collar, and slapped his hand over his mouth.
“Aditi sun tu-mmmph!!”
Too late.
He was now hostage.
The entire room broke into chaotic giggles again as Ansh dragged Prateek toward the kitchen like a mafia boss handling snitches.
“Bachaaao! Yeh dictatorship hai!” Prateek mumbled against Ansh’s hand, flailing his arms like a cartoon character.
Aditi watched it all, leaning on the couch, still giggling, her Maggi long forgotten.
Her eyes followed Ansh-his awkward panic, the way he couldn’t handle being the center of attention, the stupid dramatic threats that held zero weight because of how red and embarrassed he looked… yet how sincere he was, every second.
She smiled to herself.
Soft. Full. Without filter.
Not the loud kind of laugh she’d just shared with everyone. This one was quiet.
The kind that came from a place deeper than amusement-warmth.
And in the kitchen, with Prateek now begging for release and Ansh aggressively trying to maintain what little dignity he had left, something inside him calmed just a little-like even through all the chaos, through every spice disaster and embarrassing story…
Somehow, he knew she saw him.
time skips…
It was a dark night-unusually dark.
The moon was full, round and brilliant in the sky, yet its light failed to touch the earth below. As if the night itself had swallowed it whole.
And in Ansh’s room, not even the moonlight dared to intrude.
The balcony door was open. He stood there, motionless, leaning against the cold railing. A soft wind whispered past him, ruffling his hair and clothes, but he didn’t move.
He couldn’t. His body was here. But his mind-his mind was still at Aditi’s.
Still stuck in that room, where words had sliced deeper than blades.
Where truths had surfaced like ghosts clawing out of shallow graves. Where he had sat, surrounded by the people who loved her, while she stood in the kitchen… so close, yet so far away.
He stared out into the blackness. It was strange. The moon was there-he could see it-but it brought no comfort.It reminded him of Aditi.There, glowing, smiling, existing…But unreachable.Out of sync with the world around her.
His knuckles grazed the cold metal of the railing. He didn’t even notice the sting.How could anyone do this to her?How?
How do you look at someone like Aditi-a girl who smiles with her whole face, who laughs like it’s music, who finds joy in the smallest things-And decide to hurt her?
To ruin her?To steal the very thing she loved most?
He clenched his teeth.The image of her-bloodied, unconscious, alone in that locked dance room-flashed before his eyes like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
He imagined her, lying there, breathing shallow, her leg twisted, her head bleeding.
He imagined her fingers twitching for help.Calling for someone-anyone.And no one coming.
His stomach churned violently.He felt sick.Not just because of what happened-but because of what came after.The silence.The disbelief.The betrayal.
He had always thought Aditi was guarded. That she was quiet because she wanted to be.
That she was distant because she liked her space.
But now?Now he knew the truth.
She wasn’t distant-she was hiding.She wasn’t guarded-she was wounded.Bleeding in places no one could see.
And the worst part?She had mastered it.Mastered the art of smiling when breaking.Of listening when screaming inside.Of living… while barely holding on.
A lone tear slipped down Ansh’s cheek. He didn’t bother wiping it.The wind picked up again, brushing past his face like a ghost’s whisper.
He lowered his gaze to the street below, dimly lit and silent.The world was asleep.
ut his guilt was wide awake.
His thoughts echoed in the hollow corners of his chest-
“Why didn’t I see it?”
“Why didn’t any of us see it?”
“Why did she have to fight that battle alone?”
And still…She had smiled.Still…She had laughed with them, helped them, healed them.When all this time, she was the one bleeding.He pressed his forehead against the cold metal, his eyes burning now.
“You deserved better, Aditi…” he whispered to the wind.”So much better.”
He stayed there-silent, sleepless, shattered-under a full moon that refused to shine.Because the world felt darker now.And no amount of light could undo what had already been stolen.
———————————————————-
The college canteen was its usual mess-chairs half-pulled, trays clattering, groups of students chattering loud enough to drown logic, and the aroma of bad coffee and over-fried samosas lingering like a stubborn guest. It was the kind of midday chaos that made concentration impossible-unless you were Aman Singhaniya.
In one quiet corner, untouched by the noise, Aman sat alone, elbows on the table, hunched over his phone with the kind of intensity that suggested he was solving the country’s budget or decoding national secrets. His lunch tray sat nearly full, ignored. Around him, the world buzzed-but in his head, it was just him and whatever “very important” task he had on his screen.
Until the calm shattered.
Samaira walked in-white top, jeans, sneakers that squeaked just enough to be annoying, and a thousand-watt smirk plastered confidently across her face. She scanned the canteen, eyes flicking past laughing groups and half-eaten thalis-until they landed on him.
Without hesitation, she made her way to his table and dropped herself onto the seat across from him like a scene straight out of a sitcom.
“Kya haal hai, Zinda Statue?” she greeted, her voice loud and unapologetically cheerful, oozing sarcasm and amusement.
Aman didn’t look up, didn’t flinch. His tone was flat, clipped, mechanical. “Nothing. Bas kaam kar raha hoon.”
Samaira tilted her head, leaning forward slightly to peek at his phone screen with faux curiosity. “Oh ho… kaunsa kaam? NASA se internship aayi hai kya?”
That made him snap his eyes up at her, irritation clearly blooming on his face. “Tumse matlab?” he shot back, his brows narrowing with warning.
She gasped dramatically, hand on her chest like he’d just wounded her ego. “Uff. Toh aaj kal sarcasm ke saath privacy bhi mila hai Aman ko? Wah, full upgrade ho gaye ho.”
Aman rolled his eyes, barely suppressing a groan. “Tumhare jaise hurricane ke saamne privacy hi mera last hope hai,” he muttered, voice thick with dry sarcasm.
Unfazed, Samaira leaned in a little more, chin resting on her hand as she stared at him intently. “Arrey yaar, main phone churaungi nahi. Phekungi bhi nahi. Mujhe bhi dekhne do na, kya hai itna serious?”
Aman pulled his phone closer like it contained launch codes. “Nahi. Tumhara bharosa bhi nahi hai. Uss baar ki tarah kuch na kuch gira diya toh? Mera data udd jayega.”
Samaira huffed, flicking her ponytail with dramatic flair. “Huh… Akdu Master,” she declared with exaggerated disappointment.
She stood abruptly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. But before leaving, she muttered under her breath, just loud enough to reach his ears. “Ek toh interest dikhao toh problem, ignore karo toh bhi issue. Kya hi hoga iska?”
He heard it. Of course he did. His eyes lifted just in time to catch her walking away with a deliberately dramatic shrug. Something about her tone-half annoyed, half teasing-lingered like a stubborn aftertaste. Was it guilt he felt? Annoyance? Or something dangerously close to interest?
Samaira paused at the canteen door, turned halfway, and tossed a wink his way as if she hadn’t just walked all over his emotional bandwidth.
“Next time,” she called out playfully, “agar tumhare phone mein aliens se baat ho rahi ho toh mujhe bhi loop mein lena, okay?”
Aman sighed-deep and exasperated, like a man who had just finished a mental marathon. He looked back at his phone screen, but the numbers and texts had blurred. His focus had been stolen.
Stolen by a white top, a loud laugh, and the kind of chaos that didn’t ask permission before storming in.
——————————————-
The old banyan tree near the sports ground was in full bloom, leaves rustling above the heads of six teenagers sprawled in a mess of lunchboxes, water bottles, and pure chaos.
“Abhay tu cheating kar raha hai! Maine tujhe pehle hi bola tha, Dumb Shell Arts mein ‘DRISHYAM’ 2 minute mein kaise guess kare koi?!” Priya shouted, nearly throwing her sandwich at him.
Abhay laughed shamelessly.
“Tu jal rahi hai apni haar se, maan le!”
“Mujhe lagta hai yeh dono secretly practice karte hain,” Shagun narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Kaunsa ‘DRISHYAM’ ka scene tha jisme tu ‘Kacha Papad Paka Papad’ kar raha tha haath hila hila ke?”
Ayush, lying belly-down on the grass, chimed in lazily, “Bhai mujhe lagta hai Abhay ne apni dancing dreams yahan Dumb Shell Arts mein ghusa diye.”
“Main bolta hoon agla round horror theme pe hona chahiye!” Vivaan suddenly declared, springing up like a man on a mission.
“Jo sabse zyada drama karega, usko free samosa!”
“Drama toh tu karega. Free samosa ki baat aayegi to, Vivaan: the chuhe ka Oscar-winning performance taiyaar hota hai,” Ayush deadpanned.
Vivaan struck a pose like SRK in the rain. “Mere samoson mein bhi khushboo hai, mere dialogues mein bhi…”
Aditi being done with his overacting smacked his head from behind “bass kar itna drama karne ki jaroorat nahi h… koi nhii dega tujhe samosa”
Vivaan taken back by her sudden hit in surprise said “hawww…tune mujhe mara kaise??” then he smirked. ” ab to gyii beta tu!”
He grabbed a pen from Shagun’s pocket and chucked it toward her-she ducked and hit him back with a slap on the arm.
“Wah! Domestic violence in broad daylight!” he cried dramatically.
Abhay leaned in, whispering to Priya, “Main to bol raha hu ye chuha aaj phir pitega Aditi se”
“Oyeee, nahi!” Aditi grinned, “main gandi cheezo ko haath nahi lagati!”
“gandi cheeze,” Priya scoffed. “Last week hi aunty ne tujhse poora garden saaf karvaya tha vo bhi keechad keechad main’.”
Shagun broke into laughter, “Iss ladki se toh Einstein bhi haar jaaye.”
Suddenly, Vivaan stood tall, raising an invisible sword. “Main iska badla lunga. Aditi! Tayyar ho ja. Tujhe mazaak mein marna hoga.”
Aditi, ever the competitor, mimicked a boxer stance. “Aa jaa, chuhe. Dekhte hain kisko milega free ka samosa!”
She lunged at him and thwacked him on the arm with her pencil box.
“Oyeee!” he yelped, falling back into Ayush’s lap. “Yeh unfair hai! Yeh toh tu weapon lekar chal rahi h!”
The group erupted in uncontrollable laughter.
Vivaan stood again, rubbing his arm. “Theek hai. Ab meri baari. Tera badla toh lena hi padega.”
He raised his hand toward Aditi-half-laughing, half-mocking a slow-motion attack. And then…
He saw it.A slight twitch.A flicker.A millisecond of hesitation in Aditi’s smile. Her eyes widened-just for a beat.And her body tensed… like it remembered something it didn’t want to.
Vivaan’s grin faltered.His hand froze midair.In the chaos, no one noticed.Except him.He dropped his hand and blinked, covering up instantly.
“hayeee… mera haath…. shoulder pe Aditi ne aisa atomic thappad maara hai, mujhe lagta hai dislocation ho gaya. Mujhe medical leave chahiye.”
“Oh please!” Shagun groaned. “Overdramatic chuha nahi chahiye ab hame!”
Ayush added, “Mujhe lagta hai tujhe doctor ke paas nahi, National Drama Academy mein jaana chahiye.”
Aditi giggled. “Zyada drama karega toh sach mein maarungi, phir acting bhi nahi bachegi.”
Vivaan gave a lopsided grin but didn’t say more. Instead, he glanced at her-smiling, yes, but holding something behind those eyes.
And his chest ached.Because even in laughter, she flinched.Because no matter how loud their fun got, her silence still echoed louder.
He looked away, letting everyone tease and banter. But deep down, he made a quiet promise:
He’d never touch her-not even in play-if it ever meant even a hint of discomfort for her.Because her laughter mattered. But her safety mattered more.
———————————————–
The campus garden behind the library was unusually quiet that afternoon-a rare sliver of calm between lectures and society events. Birds chirped lazily, a soft breeze rustled through the peepal leaves, and the faint murmur of gossip hummed in the background like a warning siren.
Aman had come there for some quiet. His head was still heavy from the chaos of the past few days-seminar presentations, team assignments, and, of course, his usual verbal boxing matches with Samaira. He didn’t seek out her company. She just… arrived. Like a storm front that refused to check the weather forecast.
He had barely taken a seat on the stone bench near the old banyan tree when he heard voices-familiar ones. Samaira’s friends. The ones who always giggled too loud when she teased him and gave Aman that “why-is-she-talking-to-him” glare when she wasn’t looking.
Curiosity pulled him deeper behind the tree, footsteps soundless on the grass.
Shivani’s voice, hushed but sharp
“Main toh pehle din se hi keh rahi hoon-Samaira ko us Aman se door rehna chahiye tha. Dekh lo, ab college mein sab usi ke baare mein bolte hain, but khud Samaira? She’s literally slipping in her academics.”
Riya’s scoff, loud and bitter
“Haan, aur tum notice karo… pehle woh har debate, every competition mein first thi. Ab toh attendance mark karna bhi achievement lagta hai. Why? Because she’s too busy playing mind games with Mr. Zinda Statue.”
Shubham, laughing dryly
“That guy’s acting like some misunderstood brooding genius-uff. Reality check: tough guy ban ke impress karna hota toh Samaira jaise dus bande line mein hote. Par yeh banda toh bas silent treatment deta hai… aur Samaira, jaane kyun, uske peeche hi pad gayi hai.”
Krish’s voice, more annoyed than mocking
“Because she likes fixing broken people, yaar. That guy is like her latest charity project. Lekin khud ko barbaad kar rahi hai uske chakkar mein.”
Piyush, in a low voice
“Tum logo ne dekha nahi kya, pichhle week ke test mein uska paper kitna mess tha? Samaira never messes up. She was distracted the entire day. Kyun? Because woh Aman se lad kar aayi thi.”
Shivani, again, voice colder this time
“He’s ruining her. She doesn’t even realise it. Sabko push karti hai door-but not him. And he? He just stands there like he doesn’t give a damn. Bas ego trip mein hai banda. Attention chahiye, care bhi chahiye-but responsibility? Zero.”
Aman stood frozen behind the tree, his fists clenched by his sides.Every word landed like a punch.They weren’t wrong, were they?
She was slipping-he’d noticed too. The assignments she forgot, the empty seat in the last mock round, the energy that felt more chaotic than charming these days. But he hadn’t thought he was the reason. He never meant to be.
And yet… she had always been the one who approached. Who laughed when he glared. Who poked when he retreated. She reached out, again and again, like some part of her actually believed there was something in him worth reaching for.
And what had he done?He’d scoffed. Pulled away. Sarcasm. Silence. Distance.Because that’s all he knew.And now… she was suffering.
Aman stepped back slowly, the sounds of laughter and judgment still echoing behind the tree. He didn’t go confront them. He didn’t want to hear another word.
He walked away from the garden, shoulders heavy, steps unsteady. A sharp ache had bloomed in his chest-a twisted knot of guilt, self-loathing, and something deeper. Something raw.
In his mind, the words kept repeating:
“She’s ruining herself for him.”
“He’s ruining her.”
Aman reached the edge of the college building, leaned against the cold wall, and stared at the cracked floor tiles beneath him.
“Maine hi toh sab kharab kiya…” he whispered to no one.His fingers curled tighter into his palms. His throat burned with the weight of unspoken apologies, of truths too hard to swallow. He didn’t deserve her kindness. Her laughter. Her chaos.
He wasn’t meant to be taken care of.
Because every time someone tried… he only left them worse than before.
—————————————————
The school roared with its usual midday chaos – laughter spilling from classrooms, the metallic clang of lunchboxes, and the relentless echo of footsteps in hallways. But Aditi? She stood in defiance of it all, wrapped in a silence that was entirely her own.
Up on the terrace – a place strictly out of bounds, yet somehow always within her reach – she leaned against the sun-warmed railing. The wind teased at the loose strands of her hair, tugging them like forgotten thoughts trying to pull her back to reality. But she remained still, unmoved, eyes distant.
Below, the school thrummed with life. Here, it felt like time held its breath.
Aditi’s gaze wasn’t fixed on anything in particular – just somewhere far, far off, beyond the rusting school gate, past the broken cricket nets, beyond the noisy buses lined like beasts at rest. Somewhere her mind shouldn’t be, but always wandered anyway.
Her fingers absently traced the cool metal of the railing, while her heart replayed scenes she pretended to have forgotten. Words unsaid, smiles faked, conversations left hanging like unfinished poetry.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the breeze whisper secrets to her skin, and wondered – not for the first time – how something could feel so heavy when no one else even noticed it was there.
And in that quiet corner, above a world too loud to care, Aditi stood – a storm veiled in silence, still learning how not to drown in her own depth.
“Tu yahan chhup ke kya kar rahi hai, Ms. MMA champion?”
Vivaan’s voice came from behind, teasing-casual, but softer than usual.
Aditi turned, smiling. “Thak gayi thi… thought I’d catch some peace before the bell.”
She hesitated, then added, “Tu kab aaya?”
Vivaan shrugged, walking over slowly. “just abhi. Bas dekha ki tu akeli hai, toh laga… shayad company de du.”
A brief silence settled between them-comfortable, yet heavy.
The terrace breeze rustled faintly as the silence between them thickened. Aditi’s gaze stayed fixed on Vivaan, no trace of a smile now.
“ham jab khel rahe the… tune mujhe mara kyu nahi.?”
Vivaan froze. Just for a moment. His throat went dry, his heartbeat quickening. Shit. She noticed.
Looking away toward the horizon, he muttered, “Kya? Nahi, kuch nahi Bas… tune boht tez mara tha na to hath dard ho raha tha isliye bss.”
Aditi didn’t buy it. She stared at him-steady, sharp, searching. Vivaan felt it. She was too damn smart. And he couldn’t let her know-not now-that he knew.
So in a split-second decision, Vivaan spun toward her and grinned. “itna bhi tez nahi mara tha…zhooth mat bol” Aditi challenged.
“Accha? Toh le…” he muttered, and lightly poked her arm. Just a gentle touch. But Aditi’s eyes widened.
Vivaan immediately panicked. “Wait-wait-Aditi, itna bhi nahi tha! Bas proof dena tha ki main maar sakta hoon!”
But before he could finish, Aditi blinked in mock betrayal, then narrowed her eyes.
“TOH AB TU MUJHE POKE KAREGA?!”
“Nahi nahi! Arre voh bas-friendly tha! Innocent tha!” Too late.
She launched herself at him like a missile, screaming, “TU GAYA AAJ! CHUHE, TERA ANTIM SAMAY AAGAYA HAI!”
“ADITI PLEASE! MAIN GALTI MEIN-GALTI MEIN!” Vivaan yelped, darting across the terrace, flailing his arms like a man under attack.
“You said it was a poke-yeh toh chhuri thi!!” she shouted, chasing him down with full dramatic flair.
Vivaan ran in circles, hiding behind benches, laughing and gasping for breath, while Aditi raged behind him with pretend fury.
“Ek minute! Mujhe lagta hai main slip disc ka patient ban gaya hoon!” Vivaan gasped, ducking behind the railing.
Aditi finally cornered him, hands on her hips, panting, grinning. Aditi saw it.
The touch, the timing-Vivaan hadn’t touched her all day. And now, when he did, he had instantly backtracked. Apologized like it mattered.
He was careful. Respectful. She felt safe.She didn’t say it aloud.But the moment didn’t stay quiet for long.
As they reached the stairwell, Vivaan peeked down the corridor-and immediately sprinted like his life depended on it.
“BACHAAALO! MERE PE POKING KA CASE BAN RAHA HAI!” he screamed dramatically, startling the group gathered below.
The peaceful post-event chatter of the corridor shattered as Vivaan came charging toward them like a man on the brink of death, eyes wide with theatrical horror.
“Usne mujhe maara-mujhe maar daala!” he cried, gasping for breath. “Witness chahiye mujhe court mein!”
Before anyone could react, he dived behind Shagun, clutching her shoulders like a terrified squirrel latching onto the only tree in a hurricane.
Shagun yelped, nearly stumbling forward.
“Kya?! Kisne maara tujhe?!” she exclaimed, trying to pry his hands off but failing.
Ruhaan’s expression changed in 0.3 seconds. Gone was the goofy grin. Replaced by something… darker. Protective. Slightly territorial.
He stepped forward, eyebrows drawing low, and in one smooth, deliberate move, peeled Vivaan’s hands off Shagun’s shoulders like they were toxic vines. He stood between them now-an unmovable wall of indignant masculinity.
“Jisne bhi maara ho, marr ja tu… par Shagun se door reh,” he said coolly, his voice low and sharp, the edge unmistakable. “Itna chipakne ki zaroorat nahi hai.”
Vivaan blinked up at him, stunned-but only for a second. Then, completely ignoring Ruhaan’s broody boyfriend energy, he spun around and jabbed a finger toward the staircase.
“Arre aap toh chup hi raho!” he exclaimed dramatically. “Udhar dekho… ADITI THE DESTROYER! Poke ka revenge lene aa rahi hai!”
All eyes whipped to the staircase.And there she was. Aditi.
Descending like a wrathful deity from the heavens-hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail, sleeves rolled up, murder in her eyes and purpose in every step. She looked like she’d just walked out of a Marvel villain origin story, complete with invisible fire behind her and the dramatic soundtrack only Vivaan could hear in his head.
“Oh crap,” Prateek muttered.
“Yeh toh gaya,” Shagun added, genuinely impressed by Aditi’s level of intensity.
Vivaan let out a strangled squeak. “Mujhe chhupa lo, koi toh mujhe chhupa lo!” he whispered urgently, ducking behind Ruhaan this time-only for Ruhaan to casually sidestep, leaving him exposed like a sacrificial goat.
“Kya kar rahe ho yarr bhaiya?” Vivaan hissed.
Ruhaan smirked, folding his arms. “Shagun ke peeche chhupna bandh karega toh… shayad tujhe zinda bacha lu Aditi se.”
Shagun, now thoroughly entertained, raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Tu ne Aditi ko poke kiya tha?”
Vivaan’s face twisted into a grin of pure regret. “Haan… par woh friendly tha! usii ne pehle chidhaya tha ki main usse maar nahi skata kar ke”
“Aditi aur friendly poke?” Priya said, wide-eyed. “Tera dimaag toh samose bechne nahi gaya na?”
Just then, Aditi arrived. Her footsteps were calm, her expression unreadable-but her aura screamed ‘someone’s about to get owned.’
“Vivaan,” she said coolly.
Vivaan gulped. “Haan, Aditi?”
Ruhaan folded his arms. “Main vivaan ke liye shok sabha arrange karne jaa raha hoon. Koi last words, bhai?”
Vivaan gasped, “Meri notebook Aditi ko mat dena. Woh mujhe fail kar degi saath mein.”
Aditi, perfectly composed now, spoke sweetly, too sweetly “Oh don’t worry… main sirf dosti nibha rahi hoon.”
Vivaan whimpered, “Wahi toh darr hai.”
Vivaan raised both hands in surrender, wide-eyed. “Mujhe maaf kar de, oh great dance-floor warrior. Tere uss MMA thappad ka trauma abhi tak mere cheekbone mein vibrate ho raha hai.”
Aditi huffed. “Poke mat kario dobara. Warning de rahi hoon.”
Vivaan pressed his lips together dramatically, nodded solemnly. “No poking. Aditi ka aadesh sar ankhon par.”
Everyone burst into laughter, the earlier tension forgotten, replaced with chaos and grins.
But amidst the teasing, Ansh’s eyes stayed on Aditi-watching the way her smile lingered, the faint light in her eyes as she stood near Vivaan.
It wasn’t just the joke.It was the comfort. The warmth. The trust returning, however small.And in that moment, none of them said it aloud, but they all felt it Aditi was healing.
But Ansh couldn’t laugh. He stood a little off to the side, arms folded, eyes fixed on Aditi.
She was laughing too now. That soft, real kind of laugh-the one he hadn’t heard in so long. The one that used to light up rooms back when she was still the old Aditi… or maybe, the Aditi she was trying to find her way back to.
But Ansh wasn’t seeing her laugh.He was seeing her flinch.Her tremble.Her silence. The weight of what she’d been through hadn’t left his chest.
He had barely slept the night before. Her story-those details-kept replaying. Over and over. The way she had been broken down and still walked into school every day like she was fine. The way she had buried her pain deep enough that even he-who thought he knew her-missed it.
How could he have been so blind?
He watched Vivaan and Aditi teasing now. She shoved Vivaan’s arm dramatically, scolding him for poking her earlier. Vivaan stumbled back, flailing, and everyone broke into more laughter.
And for a fleeting second-just one-Ansh saw something he hadn’t in a while. Her eyes sparkled. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced.
Something in her was… alive. Ansh swallowed hard. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But inside, he felt something shift. A vow, maybe. Or a prayer.
He would protect that spark. He didn’t know how, and maybe he didn’t deserve the chance after being so unaware for so long. But if there was any part of her trying to heal-he’d never be the reason it stopped.
She turned slightly, as if sensing someone watching her. Their eyes met. A moment. Brief. Still.She smiled.Just a little.
And that was enough to break something inside him completely. Ansh looked away, pretending to scratch his forehead, trying to hide the sudden tightness in his chest.
And he would be there. Even if she never knew it. Even if she never asked.Even if all he could do was stand quietly, in the shadows- He would never let her carry it alone again.
The canteen was alive in that unique, chaotic harmony only found in Indian schools. Steel trays clanked like cymbals in a manic orchestra, ketchup packets were being hoarded like gold in a black market, and samosas disappeared from plates faster than secrets on exam day.
Vivaan, perched at the corner table with half a samosa stuffed in his mouth like a squirrel preparing for winter, suddenly thumped the table with dramatic flair. Crumbs flew like celebratory confetti.
“Bas! Mujhse aur nahi ho raha!” he declared, eyes wide with mock despair. “Roz wahi routine, wahi bell, wahi PT teacher ka ‘double round aur karo’! Mujhe… zinda mehsoos karna hai!”
Without missing a beat, Priya sipped her masala lemonade and raised an eyebrow. “Samosa mein zyada teekha ho gaya kya?”
Shagun, flipping her novel like it was a prop in a dramatic soap opera scene, sighed theatrically. “Ab kya ghat gaya chuhe tera?”
Ruhaan, lazily munching on a spring roll, squinted like an underpaid gangster in a low-budget film. “Point pe aa, Vivaan. Bhukkad logon ka break hai ye.it’s very Precious.”
Wiping his greasy fingers on Ruhaan’s shirt, of course, because some traditions are sacred Vivaan straightened up like he was about to address the nation. “Trip plan karte hain! Summer break ke liye. Khaali kaam, tuition aur chappal ki maar nahi, toh adventure hi sahi!”
The world paused for a second. Trays froze mid-air. Even the guy yelling “cutlet khatam ho gaya!” went silent.
Prateek’s eyes sparkled like a child seeing Wi-Fi after four days of load-shedding. “YESSS! Kaha chalna hai? Goa chalein?”
Before anyone could get too carried away, Shagun snorted. “Aap Goa mein kya karoge? Sunscreen lagake beach pe catwalk karna hai?”
“Manali?” offered Priya enthusiastically, already imagining the woollens.
“Manali is nice…” Aditi agreed, but her voice dropped into mild irritation, “but too crowded. Also my mom thinks Manali = honeymoon destination = denial of permission.”
Ruhaan, licking ketchup off his thumb like a poet in a war zone, suggested, “Shimla?”
Vivaan immediately grimaced. “Shimla mein humare neighbours jaa rahe hain… uncle mujhe har dus minute mein ‘beta, sab badhiya?’ bolke psychological warfare chalayenge.”
Just then, Aditi set her Coke can down with a soft clink and leaned forward, the light hitting her face like she was in a slow-motion suspense movie. “Rishikesh.”
Silence. Then a collective gasp.
“Maggi at 6,000 feet!” Vivaan’s voice trembled in reverence. “Bungee jumping! Ganga aarti! Yeh hui na baat!”
Ruhaan’s eyes lit up. “Aur mummy log sochenge ki hum spiritual ho gaye! What a scam!”
“Iss saal ke sabse best jhooth ke liye Aditi ko Oscar milna chahiye,” Prateek declared like an award show host.
Priya clapped solemnly. “Backed.”
Just then, Ansh arrived with a tray of food in hand and suspicion in his eyes like a prefect who’s heard too much laughter for his comfort level. “Kya planning ho rahi hai?” he asked, scanning their faces.
Vivaan leapt forward, hooking one arm around Ansh like a scammy stockbroker pitching a pyramid scheme. “Trip, bhaiya. Summer break. Self-planned. Rishikesh. Trekking. Waterfall. Maggi. Samaira di aur Aman bhaiya bhi aayenge voh mummy-papa ke comfort ke liye. You know… elder escort vibes.”
Ansh blinked slowly, clearly processing the absurdity. “Trip…”
Priya cut in, deadly serious. “Aur aapko poster boy bana ke sabko mana lenge.”
But Ansh, ever the reluctant rebel, deadpanned, “Okay but mujhe nahi jana… I’ve assignments to complete.”
Everyone nodded with exaggerated sympathy then continued planning the trip anyway, entirely ignoring his response, as they always did. His refusals had become ambient noise by now.
Amidst the chaos flying ketchup sachets, trip name suggestions like “Operation Moksha,” and someone googling “how much does bungee jumping cost in Rishikesh” Ansh’s eyes wandered. Just for a second.
And landed on Aditi.
She was laughing at something vivaan said, her hand wrapped around her Coke can, head tilted slightly as she sipped. The sunlight caught the edge of her face, catching in her hair, making her glow in the unintentional, unexplainable way people do when you’re already too far gone.
Ansh watched her quietly.
The others argued about tents and train tickets, but he wasn’t listening anymore. There she was radiant, animated, present. The storm and the calm all at once.
He took a breath, almost smiled. Maybe he wasn’t going.But part of him already was.
——————————————————-
The college corridors were bustling with energy, filled with laughter, echoing footsteps, and the unmistakable noise of last-minute deadlines crashing like paper planes in the wind. It was the usual organized chaos but Samaira couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off. Or rather, someone was.
Aman, her personal “Zinda Statue,” was missing in action not literally, but emotionally, mentally, and socially. No sarcastic “Tum phir aa gayi?” when she popped up out of nowhere. No annoyed glances when she slurped her coffee too loud. No secret smirks when she stole fries off his plate.
Instead, he had turned into a full-blown ghost. Selective invisibility. Except… she could still see him.
She spotted him in the canteen first. Aman was sitting in a far corner, flanked by two classmates, peering seriously into a laptop. His posture screamed engaged, but his eyes lacked their usual restlessness. Samaira’s eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
“Ab mood thoda tease karne ka hai,” she muttered to herself, smirking as she grabbed her coffee and headed toward him with the kind of confidence that could part oceans.
She stopped beside his table and leaned in with playful cheer. “Good morning, Spreadsheet Baba! Aaj ka data kaunse mood ke liye hai ‘avoid Samaira’ ya ‘pretend she’s invisible’?”
Aman didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. He simply slid his chair a few inches away and kept his gaze locked on the screen. “I’m busy,” he said flatly.
Samaira blinked but didn’t back down. “Ha kyu nahi, tum hi toh ho is college ke Prime Minister. Budget meeting chal rahi hai kya?” she teased again, trying to spark a flicker of their usual banter.
“Try someone else then,” Aman said, voice clipped and low. “I’m not available for entertainment.”
Her smile faltered, this time more noticeably. The words weren’t loud. But they were cold. And cold words from someone warm once that stung harder.
“Achha… trip pe chal rahe ho na? Priya ne bataya hi hoga,” she asked, changing the subject, trying to understand.
“I’m not interested,” Aman shot back, cutting her off without even a glance.
“Tumhare dimaag mein chal kya raha hai, Aman?” she asked, more softly now, tone stripped of sarcasm, eyes searching for a flicker of anything familiar.
He didn’t answer. He picked up his tray, said something low to his classmates, and walked away, leaving Samaira standing by the table with her coffee in hand and a strange hollowness in her chest.
And it didn’t stop there.
In the library, when she tapped his shoulder with a pen, expecting a “Samaira, tum library mein?” he didn’t even turn. Just packed his books and shifted to another desk, not saying a word.
In the parking lot, when she caught up to him rambling about how she roasted a professor in class, he didn’t respond. Just shoved his headphones in and increased his pace.
In the corridor, when she waved as they passed each other he walked by. Not ignoring her. Not angry. Just… like she didn’t exist.
That evening, sitting with her group in the canteen, Samaira stirred her cold coffee in slow, distracted circles. Her lips stretched into a half-smile at a joke someone cracked, but her eyes kept drifting to the corner where Aman usually sat.
Empty.
Shivani, noticing her quietness, elbowed her lightly. “Tu itni chup kyun hai? Tere sarcasm ke bina duniya boring lag rahi hai.”
Samaira gave a half-hearted shrug and said, “Kya pata… world ko thoda silence bhi chahiye hota hai.”
But inside, she hated that silence. Because that silence? It had Aman written all over it.
She didn’t know what had changed if it was something she’d done, or said. Was it just a joke gone too far? A mood swing? Or was this… him pushing her out of his world completely?
What she didn’t know was that behind Aman’s cold behavior lay something much darker a storm of guilt, self-doubt, and a crushing belief that he didn’t deserve her light. Her presence, her chaos, her care. That he would, like always, ruin it.
So instead of taking the risk of being close he built a wall.Tall. Wide. Ruthless.And Samaira? She was standing on the other side of it, confused, hurt… and still trying to find a way in.
**************************************************
Thank you so much, my precious bubbles, for reading this chapter! 🫧✨
Let’s meet again super soon in the next one.
And if you’re someone who secretly loves spoilers or just wants some extra masala before it dropsFollow me on Instagram: pixiee_wrts
Stay safe, keep smiling, and as always.keep reading, my lovelies. 🌸
Your forever-chaotic author,
Prachi 💌
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