We know chapters are too small👉👈 but as you read forward, you'll get a little bit long chapters. Also if you're liking the story😊, do tag your friends too.

__________________

"I swear, I'm so excited! We're finally gonna sit in the new building! Ira practically bounced as she walked, her bag thumping like a dhol against her back. "Main toh legit overhyped hoon!"

"Bro, have you seen the washroom there?" Trisha added, fixing her hair in the tinted glass of the staff room window. "Full Kareena Kapoor vibes from Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, I'm telling you, Beheno! Maine toh bas uss bade mirror ke saamne khade ho kar mast pose dene ki practice karni hai jaise ghar pe karti hoon."

"Just hope we don't get a class next to the washroom." Ridhima chimed in, folding her hands and looking at the sky like she was praying to the Class Allocation Gods. "Please give us a class near the stairs! "

"Okay okay, vibes check done," Ira jumped in. "But do you even remember the room number?"

Trisha waved her hand dismissively, "Chodh na yaar number-shumber. Look at these students, sab corridor mein aawara billi ki tarah ghoom rahe hain. Let's join the club!"

"Acha! Aur agar teacher ne pakad liya toh? " Ira asked, her anxiety already peeking out. "What's the excuse?"

"Kya?  Just tell them we are looking for a class. Just like the others who are wandering like confused NPCs," Ridhima shrugged confidently.

"Abey! Nahi Yaar, the teachers must have definitely come to the class!" Ira whispered in full panic mode, clinging onto her bag like it was a shield. "And if we are late, we will get scolded on the very first day.. Please Yaar, chalo na class mein!"

Trisha rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. "Kya Yaar Iru, tu bhi na! Chal Riddhi... Otherwise she will sit here while having an emotional breakdown and humko bhi lecture sunna padega."

She casually threw her arms around both their shoulders like they were walking into battle together. And well, maybe they were — a war zone called first day in new building.

As they wandered the endless, echoey corridors (with one wall fan making more noise than purpose), Ira squinted. "Let's just ask someone. Otherwise it would be Hogwarts without a map."

That's when they spotted him.

A senior. Tall. Slightly confused. And absolutely giving lost puppy in a school corridor vibes.

Perfect.

"Bhaiya, Yeh Room no. 206 kahaan hai?" Ridhima asked politely.

The boy looked at them like they'd just asked him the meaning of life.
"Mujhe kya pata? Main toh khud apni class dhoondh raha hoon. Mujhe meri nahi mil rahi, tumhari kahan se laaun?"

Trisha grinned. "Arey! Toh aap bhi confused bacha gang mein ho."

He sighed dramatically. "Yeh school wale bhi na... itni buildings bana daali hain, upar se rooms ka aisa bikhra hua map ki aadmi class dhoondhte dhoondhte khud gum ho jaaye."

"Wahi toh bhaiya! Inka kya jaa raha hai? Staff rooms toh har building mein rehte hain. Aur hum bacho ko bhatakti hui aatmaao ki tarah chorh dete hai class dhoondne ke liye," Trisha declared, like they were long-lost siblings in this tragedy.

Ira and Ridhima just exchanged "here she goes again" looks. They knew Trisha had zero filter — stranger or not, she talked like she'd known you since diapers.

The boy opened his mouth to say something when—
"Bhaiya aapko late ho raha hoga na?" Ridhima interrupted sweetly.

"Nahi mujhe toh—"

"Late ho raha hai," Ira nodded firmly.

"Haan haan, aapko pata nahi hai but ho raha hai. Bohot late ho raha hai," Ridhima confirmed, patting his arm.

"Acha... tum log keh rahe ho toh...Theek hai beheno, main chalta hoon," he said dramatically, waving like he was off on a dangerous quest.

As he walked away, Ira yelled, pointing like Dora with a map. "Guys! 206! Last door!"

They shared a glance. No words. Just silent agreement. Run.

The hallway turned into a makeshift race track as all three darted toward their class like it was the finish line at Sports Day. And then...

THUD.

Trisha — of course — tripped on her shoelace and went flying straight into the classroom.

Flat. On. The. Floor.

In front of the entire class. And the teacher. A second of silence.

Then—

"TRISHA!" Ira and Ridhima burst into hysterical laughter, rushing to help her up.

Even Trisha was giggling like she meant to fall for the drama.

But then... teacher stare. They froze. Smiling suddenly felt illegal.

Heads down, they tiptoed to the last bench like punished kids on national TV. But the moment they sat— Giggles exploded again.

"Everyone will remember Trisha's grand entry." Ridhima whispered, wiping tears.

"Yaar! Yeh giri bhi kya full-on style mein... mujhe toh abhi tak hansi aa rahi hai!" Ira added, practically choking on giggles.

"She was lying down completely as if some... dead body!" Ridhima said, giving Ira a high-five as both burst out laughing again.

Trisha glared, crossing her arms. "Ho gaya tum dono ka? Ya abhi aur hasna baaki hai?"

They tried—really tried—to stop, but one look at Trisha's unimpressed face and they almost lost it again.

"Nahi nahi, hans lo... jab tak pet phat na jaaye, tab tak hans lo," Trisha huffed, rubbing her foot and back dramatically. "Now that you are free from laughing, ask about my well being too. Itni zor se lagi hain Yaar, abhi tak dard ho raha hai."

"Haan toh tujhe hi padi thi race lagane ki. Ab bhugat!" Ridhima teased.

"Seriously bata, Rishu, Is it hurting a lot? " Ira asked, concern finally outweighing amusement in her voice.

"Haan bata Yaar, agar zyada pain ho raha hai toh... medical room chale, Ghoomna bhi ho jayega," Ridhima added casually.

"Kaise si hai tu!" Trisha gave her a mock-scandalized look.

"Main theek hoon tu bata". Ridhima replied while giggling.

Trisha gave her a glare and said "Main marr rahi hoon aur tujhe ghumne ka mauka chahiye!"

Turning to Ira dramatically. "Tujhse achhi toh Iru hai. Kam se kam usne poori mamta ke saath pucha toh sahi. Mera haal!"

She pulled Ira into a side hug.

"Woh toh puchegi hi," Ridhima chimed in, joining the hug. "Aakhir humari doosri maa jo hai. Bhool gayi?"

"I didn't adopt you guys," Ira rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. "Tum logon ne mujhe adopt kiya tha. Yaad karo!"

"Hein?! Yaad nahi aa raha aisa kuch." Trisha and Ridhima replied in perfect unison, grinning.

And just like that — four periods flew by. Like time didn't matter. Like they were in their own little bubble of bad jokes and inside giggles.

__________________

Lunch Break — or as it's known, Food War 101.

Three tiffins popped open like treasure chests, but the real jackpot?

Ira's chole chawal.

Trisha and Ridhima's eyes sparkled. They licked their lips and the war began.

"Haath hata le beta! Yeh mera hai!" Trisha pushed Ridhima's hand away.

"Nahi TU hata! Yeh MERE liye laya gaya hai!" Ridhima snapped, guarding Ira's tiffin like it was the Kohinoor.

"I said—yeh MERA hai!"

"Kehne se kya hota hai?! Kehne ke liye toh yeh school bhi mere papa ka hai, par hai? Nahi na!" Ridhima shot back, crossing her arms.

"GUYS!" Ira cried, hands in the air like a peace ambassador at a food war. "It's just chole chawal! not some mythical nectar!"

Trisha turned slowly, with the seriousness of a K3G monologue.

"No, Iru. It's not just chole chawal," she said, placing her hand dramatically on her heart. "It's choooleee chaaawaaalll!"

"Exactly!" Ridhima agreed. "It's our Amrit man! And we are ready to fight for it."

Then—swoop.

Trisha SNATCHED the tiffin box and bolted out the door like she was running for Olympic gold.

"RISHU WAPAS AA!" Ridhima chased like Sholay's Thakur with working legs.

Ira blinked once. Twice. Then sighed the sigh of a girl who had given up on logic.

"Bachon ki ladai mein humesa maa hi pees jaati hai." She whispered to herself, grabbed her water bottle, and ran after them.

It was madness. Trisha glanced back to check if Ridhima was catching up. Big. Mistake.

Because in that one dramatic second— She TRIPPED over her own shoelace, arms flailing, body flopping—and thaaadd—down she went.

The tiffin flew out of her hands. Chole chawal—scattered like dreams in pre-board exam results.

Everyone froze.

Trisha stood up like a fallen soldier. Looked back at Ridhima. Glared.

"KYA? Maine thodi kaha tha bhaagne ke liye?!" Ridhima defended, hands up like she was under arrest.

Trisha looked down at the chole graveyard. Then back at Ridhima.

"Ab kha le... zameen se utha ke," she said deadpan.

Ira finally caught up, took one look at the scene...And started LAUGHING like a maniac.

And within seconds, all three of them were laughing. 

At the chole. At the fall. At themselves.

___________________

After the last rites of chole chawal, the trio dragged themselves back to class—still giggling, still blaming each other for the food massacre.

But as they turned the corner...They stopped. Dead in their tracks. A huge crowd had gathered outside their classroom like it was some roadside theatre's stage.

"Arey! What is this happening?" Ira frowned.

"Maybe assembly was happening outside the class?" Trisha raised a brow. 

"Tell me which assembly happens outside the class?" Ira deadpanned.

"Naah... Lagta hai panga ho raha hai tagde waala!" Ridhima grinned, bouncing on her toes with pure excitement.

The three pushed through the crowd like seasoned Delhi Metro travelers—elbows out, heads low—and finally reached the front row.

And what they saw?

Two boys. Holding each other's collars. Eyes blazing. Nostrils flaring. Muscles flexed. Like full-on Akshay Kumar vs John Abraham mode.

"Oye hoye! Live action!" Trisha whispered.

"Why are these two fighting?" Ira asked a random student beside her.

"There was a fight in the morning over who should sit on a seat. But now that fight has become about ego." the guy whispered back.

"Ab toh dono ek dusre ko dhamki de rahe hain... ke school ke baahar mil!"

And just then—

"You don't know who I am? Chacha vidhayak hai mere, samjha?!"

"Tere vidhayak chacha se kehna, Vikraaaaant bhai ko jaante hai kya?! My brother has two illegal licenses."

Ira facepalmed. "Wahi purana scene," she muttered.

But before Ira could say anything else, the devil duo had already jumped in.

"Bas tired of speaking ! Arey! Hit each other too ! Ab toh thappad bajne chahiye!" Trisha yelled with hands cupped around her mouth.

"Sahi keh rahi hai yeh! Physical karo bro! Dialogue se kya hoga? Now let's see who throws the first punch?" Ridhima added like a full commentator.

" GUYS!"  Ira whisper-shouted. "What are you two doing?! Don't provoke them!"

"Chup reh Ira! He's just about to throw a punch!"  Trisha replied without looking away.

The fight was seconds from breaking loose. One boy cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp enough to make the crowd flinch. The other rolled his sleeves, muscles taut, rage burning in his eyes.

No one moved. No one spoke. The silence was suffocating.

And then—

"What's all this going on?" The voice cut through the air, calm yet commanding, like it had no business being afraid.

Every head snapped toward it.

Three figures stood at the edge of the crowd.

Ishaan's face practically glowed with excitement, restless energy bouncing off him.
Ravish looked as though he'd seen this a hundred times before—unimpressed, detached.
And then there was Mahin.

Mahin.

His presence didn't need an introduction. Tall, steady, his shoulders carried an effortless confidence. His dark eyes scanned the chaos, unreadable yet magnetic, pulling attention like gravity itself. The kind of gaze that made your breath hitch before you even realized it. 

Where others trembled, he stood calm. Too calm. Like a storm with no thunder—quiet, but terrifying in its power.

The crowd shifted nervously, parting without a word. A narrow passage opened, as though the universe itself made way for him.

And then he walked in. Measured steps. Unhurried. Each one echoing louder than the threat of fists.

Mahin.
The storm, wrapped in silence.

__________________

Trisha's POV

His sleeves, carelessly folded at the forearms, revealed skin kissed by light, as though even the sun could not resist touching him. His shirt hung loose, untamed, whispering freedom with every breath of air. The April wind toyed with his hair, scattering it into soft rebellion, and yet— it framed him like a crown.

He wasn't dressed for admiration. He wasn't searching for eyes. And still—how could anyone not look?

Every step was steady, unhurried, a calmness so profound it was almost holy— as if the chaos of the world had no permission to touch him. A silent storm, carried in his body.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. His very existence was a language my heart already understood— a language of awe, of something dangerously close to love.

And in that moment, I swore—my pulse no longer belonged to me. It belonged to him.

Behind him, the others followed — loud, restless, careless. But I... I didn't see them. My eyes, my breath, my entire being... belonged only to him.

I don't know what it was. A crush? It felt heavier than that. Like something inside me bowed, without my permission.

He walked through the corridor like calm carried on legs. Unbothered, untouched — as if chaos knew better than to brush against him. And my chest... oh God, my chest was on fire. Not painful fire — holy fire.

My grip tightened around Ira's sleeve, desperate for something to ground me. But nothing could stop the way my pulse chanted his presence. Dhadak. Dhadak. Dhadak. Like my heart had decided it belonged to him before my mind even caught up.

Then he spoke. And it wasn't just a voice. It was an offering. A steady stream of words that soothed tempers, silenced storms, and yet somehow... tore me apart.

The fight ended. Laughter rippled. Life moved on. But me? I stayed rooted. Caught. Suspended.

When he adjusted his sleeves and gave the smallest nod, I felt it like a blessing I didn't deserve.
And when he turned to leave, hands sliding into his pockets, I felt the earth shift beneath me.
How can someone walk away... and still leave you trembling?

"Kya hua?" Ira's whisper brushed against my ear.

"Uh... kuch nahi," I lied, my voice fragile. 

But inside? Inside it felt like something greater had just reached inside my chest and rearranged me.

"Yeh kya ho raha hai mujhe?" The words escaped me like a prayer I hadn't meant to speak.

Ira smirked. "Tu toh gayi."

"Main gayi nahi..." I whispered back, hand pressed to my chest, "Main toh udd gayi."

They laughed, they teased, they dragged me away — and maybe they were right. Maybe it was silly. Just a crush. But it didn't feel like just a crush.

It felt like standing in front of something sacred. Like catching a glimpse of divinity in a school corridor. Like touching a secret I wasn't supposed to know.

And even as I tried to laugh with them, my heart wouldn't settle. Because something had shifted.

And I didn't know what to call it. Not love. Not yet.

But whatever it was — I knew it was the beginning of something I'd never forget.