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Mahin's POV

It had been two weeks since I joined the new school. 

Two weeks of awkward smiles. Of teachers pausing over my name like it didn't quite belong to their mouths. Of a uniform that never sat right on my shoulders.

Everyone says two weeks is enough time to settle in. Maybe for them.

I still felt like I was borrowing the place. Like if I touched something wrong, someone would notice.

I messed up the assembly lines almost every morning, stepping left when everyone else turned right.

I took the wrong staircase more times than I'd admit, ending up in quiet corridors I wasn't supposed to be in.

When my chest tightened, I walked faster. When I was supposed to speak, I stayed quiet. Silence felt safer than saying something stupid.

So no. Two weeks hadn't made me confident or comfortable. Not even close.

I was packing my bag, books thumping in one by one.

Ammu di leaned against the doorframe, tea in hand. She had that look, that meant she was about to ask something she already knew would annoy me.

"So," she said lightly. "Do hafte ho gaye. New school. New people. New girls..."

I groaned. "Di, please. Subah subah nahi."

She grinned wider, lifting her cup as the steam drifted between us. "Aur suna? Girlfriend mili ya nahi? School mein toh kaafi cute-cute juniors, seniors hongi."

My ears burned. I hated how obvious it was. "Di, I don't- I mean- itna focus- I mean- just-"

She laughed, leaning more comfortably into the doorway. "Relax," she said. "I'm just asking."

I took a slow breath. The air burned a little on the way in.

"Di... main girlfriend banane school nahi jaata," I said. "I go there to study. And waise bhi, I get distracted too easily. Kabhi-kabhi toh khud pe control hi nahi rehta."

The only sound was her spoon tapping lightly against the cup.

I stared at my bag as I spoke. Exams made me panic. Marks stayed in my head longer than they should. Even small things felt big sometimes, like they were piling up faster than I could handle.

She raised an eyebrow. "So tu love-shove ke bilkul against hai?"

I shook my head. "Nahi. Against nahi."

I hesitated, then said it anyway. "Bas... agar kisi ko apni life mein laaun, toh tab jab main stable hoon. I don't want to give someone only half of myself."

The words surprised me as soon as they were out and for once, she didn't laugh. Her cup paused midway to her lips.

"Aur di," I added quietly, "I can't compromise on my dream of joining the Air Force. I've made a promise to myself, that I'll fulfill my responsibilities first. Phir... jo hoga dekha jayega."

Her smile faded. The teasing left her eyes as she looked at me properly this time.

Maybe she finally understood this wasn't drama. Or me trying to sound mature.

It was just me, with too many thoughts, too many worries, and one dream I was scared of messing up.

I picked up my bag and gave her a small smile. "Bas... abhi pyaar ke chakkar mein padne ka time nahi hai," I said. "Air Force pehle. Baaki sab baad mein."

I'm not perfect. I know that.

I hesitate. I overthink. Sometimes I let fear wins.

But I'm trying to stay steady. Trying not to forget why I started.

I still remember the first time I saw a fighter jet cut across the sky, the noise, the force of it, the way it made everything else feel small.

That day, something settled inside me and I knew what I wanted.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned back once.

"I just want to become the kind of person the Air Force would want me to be," I said quietly. "Focused. Disciplined. Aur... honest."

I don't know how things will turn out. I don't know what I'll lose or what I'll gain along the way. I don't know if love will ever find me. I don't know if I'll make it through the exams, the training, the endless tests of strength and will.

But for now, I'm trying. And, that has to be enough.

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If there's one thing about me, it's that I try to be serious.

I want to be focused. Disciplined. The kind of person who doesn't get distracted every five seconds.

Unfortunately, life disagreed. It gave me two idiots who was loud, annoying, and physically incapable of shutting up, who make sure seriousness never survives for long.

I walked a few steps ahead, my bag sliding off one shoulder, mentally repeating the timetable.

Behind me, Ravish and Ishaan were already at it. Their voices overlapped, insults flying back and forth, neither of them willing to lose.

I didn't interfere because some disasters needed to play out on their own.

"Bhai, thoda side chal na," Ravish complained, elbowing Ishaan away. "Main gir jaaunga."

Ishaan grinned. "Girta reh. Tujhe koi sambhalne wali toh hai nahi." he said as he nudged him again.

Ravish stumbled into me, which made me nearly knocking off balance.

"Can you both walk normally for even one minute?" I snapped. "It's morning, and you've already started."

Ishaan grinned, completely unapologetic. "Oh ho. Bhole Baba ko gussa aa gaya?"

"Haan," I shot back. "Tum dono ke saath toh roz hi aa jata hai."

They went right back to arguing. Ishaan hooked an arm around Ravish's shoulders while Ravish shoved him away without breaking stride.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. This was normal. Annoying, loud, impossible but normal.

And without warning, my thoughts slipped back to that day.

Flashback

There we were. Three idiots standing in a row in front of the principal's desk with our heads down.

No one spoke. The silence dragged on. I was embarrassed, but a part of me still couldn't believe we were here over this.

The principal looked ready to explode. "Even on the last day?" he snapped. "You three have no shame, I swear."

Ravish leaned toward me and whispered, "Bhai, bol de idea tera tha."

I shot him a look. "My idea? Tu hi toh-"

Before I could finish, Ishaan's elbow hit the pen stand and the pens clattered across the desk while rolling everywhere.

"That's enough!" the principal barked which made three of us flinch.

Then, his gaze landed on me. "Tell me, Mahin!" he said. "Cake kaun leke aaya tha?"

My stomach dropped. Not because of the cake, but because suddenly, whatever I said next felt like it mattered a lot more than it should have.

Fifteen minutes earlier, the scene had played out very differently.

"Mahin, please," Sahil whispered, eyes darting around. "If principal sir finds out we brought the cake, we're dead. Our parents won't even let us breathe."

Raghu spoke next, quieter. "You guys are leaving the hostel anyway. You'll go home after this. We're stuck here the whole year."

Vihaan pressed his palms together dramatically. "Bhai, please. Agar sir ne parents ko call kar diya na..." He shook his head. "Bas phir, khatam hai hum."

I stared at them, irritation tightening my chest. "Why would you even bring a cake into the hostel? You know the rules."

Sahil's shoulders dropped. His voice did too. "It was our last day together. We just... wanted something special."

I exhaled slowly. "Fine," I said. "If something happens... I'll deal with it."

And now, standing here, the principal's voice cut through my thoughts. "Who brought the cake?"

My throat went dry as their faces flashed through my head, their wide eyes, clenched jaws, the way they'd looked at me like trusting me with something meaningful.

I spoke before I could think it through. "I did, sir."

As soon the words left my mouth Ravish's head snapped toward me while Ishaan just stared at me with his mouth slightly open.

I didn't look at either of them. I kept my eyes fixed on the wall ahead.

Principal sir blinked twice. "You?" he asked slowly before he leaned forward a little. "Mahin... you?"

"You don't break rules," he said slowly. "You are one of the brightest boys in this hostel. You're careful, responsible. I expect better from you."

I swallowed. My throat felt tight.

"Tell me the truth," he said. "Who brought the cake?"

I stayed quiet.

"Mahin," he tried again, softer now. "You don't need to do this. I'm not asking you to protect anyone."

I still didn't speak.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face, disappointment weighing down his shoulders.

The door closed behind us, muffling the principal's voice.

Ravish turned on me immediately. "Why did you take the blame?" he hissed. "Sir was so disappointed in you."

I shrugged but my shoulders felt stiff. "Because if he'd called their parents, they would've lost it," I said. "We're leaving the hostel anyway. They're stuck here."

Ishaan didn't laugh this time. He just looked at me for a little long. "But you're... you," he said. "You're the ideal student. Sir treats you like his favourite child."

"I know."

"And you still said it."

"I know."

They exchanged a confused, uncomfortable look, like they didn't quite know what to do with that answer.

Ravish let out a breath. "Bhai... that was stupid."

I smiled, tired. "Yeah," I said. "It was."

And somehow, standing there outside the office, we started laughing. Quiet at first. Then harder. For no real reason at all.

Flashback ends

My thoughts stalled midway, cut off by a sharp thud echoing through the corridor.

Someone had fallen and without thinking, all three of us turned towards it.

A few steps ahead, a little distance away, a girl pushed herself up from the floor, wincing as she rubbed her elbow. Her hair had fallen over her face, hiding her expression. Her bag hung loose from one shoulder, her back angled toward us.

I couldn't see her clearly. But I heard her.

"Tu pagal hai kya?" she snapped at the boy beside her. "Dekh ke nahi chal sakta?"

He laughed but she didn't.

She argued with her brother, irritation sharp in every movement, brushing dust from her clothes as she muttered under her breath.

I should've looked away. It wasn't anything unusual as students tripped in corridors all the time.

But for reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't.

Maybe it was the way she held herself, the confidence threaded through her irritation. Maybe it was how honest her frustration was.

Whatever it was, it felt oddly comforting. Like catching a glimpse of life that makes you smile even when it has nothing to do with you.

And I did a small but real smile before Ravish nudged me with his elbow.

"What?" I asked quietly.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he laughed.

"I'm not," I said too quickly.

But I was.

I hadn't seen her face. I didn't know her name. I didn't even know if I'd ever see her again.

Still, something about her lingered.

I watched her walk away with her brother, then shook my head and pulled myself back.

Focus, Mahin, I reminded myself. Air Force. Discipline. No distractions.

And yet beneath all that discipline something in me refused to let go of that moment.

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Authors POV

The corridor outside their classroom had turned into something else entirely. Bodies pressed together, spilling into the hallway, faces tilted toward the chaos at its center.

"Arey! what is happening here?" Ira frowned, folding her arms as she braced herself against the noise.

Beside her, Trisha lifted a single eyebrow. "Maybe assembly?" she guessed, mischief flickering in her voice.

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

Ridhima bounced on her toes, energy barely contained. "Naah," she said, grinning. "Lagta hai panga ho raha hai. Tagda waala."

They made their way in the crowd while elbows out, shoulders low, threading through elbows and backpacks, muttering apologies that sounded suspiciously like cheers. By the time they forced their way to the very front, they had the perfect view.

At the heart of the corridor's chaos two girls stood locked in a standoff, barely an arm's length apart. Shoulders squared, chins lifted in a stubborn challenge.

One girl's jaw was clenched, the pressure aching down her neck, her lips pressed into a furious line while the other girl tilted her head, eyes narrowing, her mouth curving into a smile that wasn't a smile at all.

Trisha's eyes lit up as she leaned forward. "Oye hoye! Ladai ho rahi hai," she whispered, barely containing herself. 

She craned her neck, eager to catch every flicker of movement.

Ira's attention drifted to the girl standing beside her instead. The girl's cheeks were flushed, eyes wide and unblinking as she watched the confrontation unfold.

"Why are they fighting?" Ira asked quitely, her words meant more for herself than for the girl.

"There was a fight in the morning over who should sit on a seat," the girl murmured quickly without looking away from the girls. "Ab toh dono ek-dusre ko dhamki de rahi hain... ke school ke baahar mil!"

"Zyada udd mat," one girl snapped as she stepped forward. "Tu jaanti bhi hai main kaun hoon?" she jabbed a finger at her own chest.

Trisha leaned closer to Ira and Ridhima, whispering sharply, "Kyu? Isey nahi pata kya yeh kaun hai?" Her brows knit together, but her eyes stayed glued to the scene ahead.

Ira and Ridhima exchanged a look while Trisha tilted her head slightly, and gave a questioning nod.

Ridhima raised a palm, silently asking her to wait, then gently turned Trisha's face back toward the fight.

"Mere chacha vidhayak hain, samjhi?!" the girl shouted.

The other girl leaned closer, her smile slow and sharp. "Apne vidhayak chacha ko bol dena," she said sweetly, "ki mere bhai ko jaante hain kya? Pure shehar mein naam hai uska."

The first girl went rigid, her shoulders locking into place, her eyes flashed. "Limit mein reh," she warned while pointing a finger at her. "Mujhe provoke mat kar."

Ira dragged her hand across her face, the soft groan escaping. "Wahi purana scene," she muttered as her eyes flicked back to the quarrel.

She opened her mouth to add more, but the moment was stolen.

"Haww!" Trisha gasped. "Bhen, agar mai teri jagah hoti na toh mai naa sehti." She shook her hand wildly, her brows furrowed in mock seriousness.

"Arey! Ab tak toh maine thappad baja diye hote!" she insisted, miming a flying slap. "Bhen! Tu bhi mat seh, maar iske!" she said, thrusting a clenched fist into the air.

Ridhima leaned in, nodding in agreement. "Sahi keh rahi hai yeh! Mai bhi nahi sehti," she said. "Ab tak do‑chaar laat‑ghusse toh barsa diye hote maine." she added widening her eyes as she acted out imaginary kicks and punches.

 "Physical karo, bro! Dialogue se kuch nahi hoga. Now let's see who throws the first punch?" she taunted, rolling her shoulders and lifting her fists in a playful guard.

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

"Chup reh Ira! she's just about to throw a punch!" Trisha snapped without taking her eyes off from the girl.

From the edge of the crowd, Ishaan suddenly broke away, cutting through the press of students. Elbows clipped him, shoes slapped against the tiled floor as he sprinted down the corridor.

At the far end, where it was quieter, Mahin and Ravish lounged against the railing, laughing about something, untouched by the tension brewing only steps away.

Ishaan skidded to a stop in front of them, breath ragged, sweat shining at his temples.
"Arre bhai," he gasped. "Waha ladai ho rahi hai." He pointed back toward the chaos. "Chalo. Ladai dekhte hain."

Mahin scoffed, flicking a hand dismissively. "Pagal hai kya?" His mouth twisted in annoyance. "Hum interested-winterest nahi hai."

Ravish tilted his head, a smug grin creeping across his face. "Bacha-wacha hai kya?" he said. "Bada ho jaa thoda."

"Abey bhai!" Ishaan blurted, still breathless, eyes lit up. He leaned forward, voice pitched high with urgency. "Ladkiyon ki ho rahi hai!"

"KYA?!" they both shouted in unison as their eyes locked, surprise mirrored in each face.

"Chal chal chal!" Ravish barked, breaking into a run. "Fast, warna climax miss ho jaayega!"

"Ho kidhar rahi hai?" Mahin shouted as he followed, feet pounding against the tiles.

"E block ke paas!" Ishaan yelled back, already ahead as he pointed toward the far corner.

They skidded to a halt at the edge of the crowd, their shoes scraping against the tiles.

For a heartbeat, all they saw were backs, shoulders pressed tight, heads craning forward. Then the crowd shifted.

One girl had her fist tangled deep in the other's hair, yanking hard enough to wrench her head back. The other shrieked, her fingers clawing into her opponent's ponytail as the fight erupted in raw chaos.

The crowd swelled around them. A couple of girls stepped forward, then froze, hands half-raised, unsure whose arm to grab, who to pull away first.

"Arre-arre-! Chhorh! Chhorh usko!" someone shouted from the side.

"Kyu chhorh?" Ridhima snapped, turning to the girl. "Behen, tu pakd ke rakh, chahe jamana kuch bhi kahe!" she yelled, clapping her hands as she circled them.

"Behen, tu bhi mat chhodna!" Trisha screamed bouncing on her toes. "Sari juye maar de iski!"

Meanwhile, Ira tried to stop them. 

She reached out, tugging at sleeves, trying to wedge herself between flying elbows. "Don't provoke them," she hissed as her eyes darted between the fighters and her friends.

The girls stumbled sideways, shoes scraping against the tiles, dragging each other in rough jerks. Hair yanked, bodies twisted, balance lost and snatched back again, over and over.

"Bhayankar!" Ishaan chuckled, dragging the word out. "Aa... aa... Ath shri Mahabharat katha..." he began to sing, his voice weaving mock drama into the chaos.

Ravish joined in, his voice rising to match Ishaan's. "Ath shri Mahabharat katha... aa... aa..." he sang, grinning wide.

Mahin shook his head, exasperation etched across his face, lips pressed tight.

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Trisha's POV

Noise swelled around me, but none of it mattered when I saw him. 

He stood apart, quiet at the margin, and I swear, even though he wasn't looking at me, the world seemed to bend around him.

He was tall, yes, but that wasn't it. It was the way he moved, the quiet authority stitched into every gesture. 

And his hair... God, his hair. Black, soft, falling in perfect disarray across his forehead, parted as if by accident. I could see the trace of someone's hand in it, but he wore it like he didn't care.

It wasn't just a face. It was the face, the kind that makes your pulse stumble and your breath catch. I didn't realize I'd gone silent, that the chaos around me had thinned into nothing. 

He filled my vision, eclipsing everything else. I didn't know his name, didn't know a single thing about him. But I knew this, in that instant, something inside me had already surrendered.

My hand found Ira's sleeve before I even realized it, gripping tight, needing something solid. The noise had faded, the chaos gone, but I barely noticed. My world had narrowed to a single point. Him. Just him.

And then he turned, walking away. I blinked, the world catching in that pause. 

Ira's elbow nudged me, whispering, "Kya hua?"

I couldn't answer. My gaze followed him, tracing the quiet rhythm of his stride. His friends surrounded him,  laughing, talking, but he didn't join them. He just walked, apart even in their company.

I held my breath until he was gone, only to find it still caught in my chest.

Ridhima squinted at me, concern sharp in her voice. "Are you okay? Did someone hit you?"

I shook my head, murmuring, "I'm fine..." But I wasn't. My pulse was a knot, my thoughts a storm, and I couldn't explain why the thought of him refused to let me go.

"Yeh kya ho raha hai mujhe?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Ira smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Tu toh gayi, beta"

"Shayad haa..." I whispered back, pressing my hand to my racing heart, "...main gayi, beta."

They teased me mercilessly, laughter spilling as Ridhima nudged my shoulder. "Ooooh, someone has a crush!" she sang, while Ira doubled over, giggling as we headed toward class. 

Heat flared across my cheeks, hotter than any fight I'd ever picked, and I shot them a glare. But even as we reached the doorway, my gaze betrayed me, drifting back to the corridor, just in case he returned.