The school gate buzzed with the usual morning chaos—honking buses, sleepy faces, and a sea of students trying to pretend they weren't running late.

Right on cue, the Khanna siblings stepped in like they owned the place.

Trisha Khanna, sharp-eyed and always on social radar, scanned the crowd like a mission commander. She bid goodbye to Nirvan and Vritika and then she shifted her focus and strutted toward her ride or dies—Ridhima and Ira, chatting by the stairs.

"Ladies!" she grinned, slinging her arms around both their shoulders like they were starring in a teen drama. "Time to slay."

Laughing, the trio walked to their classroom, arms linked, as if they were the main characters in a high school sitcom—which, to be fair, they kind of were.

They entered the classroom, immediately tossing their bags onto the benches like exhausted celebrities after a long red carpet event. Then came the signature flop—three synchronized body drops onto the seats.

Just as Ridhima was about to get comfortable, Trisha grabbed her wrist.

"Come on guys, let's go outside," she said, her eyes already sparkling with mischief.

Ridhima groaned, freeing herself from Trisha's grip. "I'm not going anywhere. Mujhe neend aa rahi hai. First I will sleep a little, then I will go to the assembly."

Ira rolled her eyes. "Kitna soti hai tu, Yaar? Chal na bahar. Anyway, assembly's gonna start in five minutes. Your sleep takes the whole day to complete ."

Grumbling, Ridhima stood up like a sleepy panda forced into cardio.

"Mro chal ke," she muttered.

The trio marched toward the assembly area, dragging their feet and sighing like it was the end of the world.

As they reached the field and found their line, Trisha suddenly turned serious.

"Okay, listen up," she whispered, her tone shifting to top-secret-gossip-mode. "You both keep an eye on line 11-B. Unhe dhoondo."

Ira blinked. "Wait—unhe?"

Trisha blinked rapidly, cheeks turning a warm shade of pink. She lowered her voice to a dreamy whisper. "Haan... unhe."

Ridhima furrowed her brows. "Unhe kinhe?" she asked, already half-knowing the answer but fully prepared to be annoyed by it.

Fidgeting with her fingers, Trisha glanced down at the ground and said shyly, "Arey! Tumhare jijaji ko... aur mere unko."

That was it. Ira and Ridhima shared the most dramatic done look in history.

Ira threw her hands up. "Can't you tell us clearly to find Mahin? Yeh 'unhe unhe' kya hota hai!"

Trisha gasped, almost offended. "Pagal hai kya?! Apne unka naam thodi na leta hai koi! I had to tell you both, so I said it once. Now I won't say it again!"

Ridhima crossed her arms. "Do you know?"

Trisha blinked. "What?"

Ridhima didn't even flinch. "Yahi ki tu bohot cringe behave kar rahi hai."

Ira chimed in, nodding. "Exactly. Pyaar mein Gopi Gawar! Saatvi fail! Nonsense! Aey pagal aurat! banna zaroori hai kya tera? Behave a little normal , Behen!"

Trisha clutched her chest dramatically. "You guys won't understand! Kuch kuch hota hai, Guys. Unke liye toh main kuch bhi ban jaaun!"

Ridhima mock-gritted her teeth, lifting her hand like she was ready to deliver a very real slap. "If you say "unhe" one more time aisa laafa padega na ki muh suj jaayega tera. Samjhi?"

Ira raised an eyebrow. "And I will hit from the other side. Then keep hitting Mahin with your swollen mouth."

Trisha let out a gasp so dramatic it deserved background violins.

"Tum log mujhe maroge? Your Param Sakhi's?" she cried, clutching both her ears like a scene straight out of a daily soap. "Hey Maa! Mataji! Why didn't my favourite chocolate sell out before I heard this?!"

Ridhima stared blankly. "Ho gaya tera Daya Ben ka audition?"

Instantly, Trisha dropped the drama and adjusted her posture. "Haan, ho gaya."

Ridhima wasn't done. "Aur tujhe khud dhoondhne mein maut aa rahi hai kya? Jo hume keh rahi hai usey dhoondhne ko?"

Trisha looked down again, sheepish. "Arey... woh... mujhe thodi si sharam aa rahi thi un—"
But the glare from both Ira and Ridhima shut her up mid-sentence.

"I mean... usko dekhne mein," she corrected.

Ira sighed so hard she probably lost a year of her life. "Kuch nahi ho sakta tera, Behen. Kuch. Bhi. Nahi."

Before Ira or Ridhima could roast Trisha any further for her romantic melodrama, the loud blare of the school bell saved her.

The morning assembly had officially begun.

Students started forming lines, reluctantly dragging their half-sleepy souls into straight columns. The school grounds buzzed with murmurs, fidgeting shoes, and yawns hidden behind half-hearted prayers.

Trisha stood between her best friends, hands joined, lips moving—though absolutely zero words were coming out. Her heart, meanwhile, was dancing to its own playlist.

She scanned the crowd out of sheer boredom. A sea of dull uniforms, the drone of morning prayers... and then— She found him.

Mahin.

Her gaze found him, and in that instant, the world slipped away. She was no longer standing where she was—she was drifting, floating into a place where only he existed. 

Eyes lingering, heart unraveling, a silent film unspooling in her mind— a love story spun from stolen glances, soft as wind, eternal as longing, and in every frame, it was only her and Mahin.

But then suddenly—

"Don't look at him like that, teachers pakad lenge," Ira whispered sharply, nudging her.

But Trisha didn't even blink. Her gaze stayed fixed. 

"Pakadne de, yaar," she said dreamily. "Mujhe dekhne de unh- usey."

Ridhima muttered without looking, "Abey O! Maine Pyar Kiya ki Suman ka role baad mein nibha liyo. First look ahead. Preeti Ma'm has been staring at us for a long time ."

Still, Trisha didn't care. Her eyes clung to him, as if pulled by an invisible thread.

And then—it happened.

Mahin, as though he had felt the weight of her gaze, turned. Straight toward her.

Their eyes met. Only for a heartbeat, a fleeting second— but it was enough to set the world ablaze.

Her breath stilled, caught somewhere between her ribs. Flustered, she snapped her gaze forward, like she'd just been caught stealing prasad at a temple.

And then, unable to contain herself, she whispered loudly, her voice trembling with excitement,
"Oye! Unho- usne mujhe dekha!"

Ridhima and Ira's eyes flew open in sync.

"What?!" they gasped together.

"Haan!" Trisha grabbed their arms like she was about to lift off. "And we made eye contact. For a full second! Can you believe it? Mera toh din ban gaya, by God!"

She squealed—just a little too loud.

Still pretending to pray, Ridhima hissed, "Abey! Dheere bol, loudspeaker! Otherwise, like last time, we will be made to stand in front of everyone again... holding our ears !"

Trisha pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the wild laughter of joy bubbling inside her.

But her face betrayed her.

It shimmered, radiant and unhidden— as though the universe itself had leaned down,
whispered a blessing into her soul, and cast her in the golden light of a love story meant to be remembered in slow motion.

____________________

The assembly had just ended.

Everyone shuffled back to their classes like half-awake zombies, while the trio—Trisha, Ridhima, and Ira—plopped down onto their benches, giggling and whispering excitedly about you-know-who.

Mahin.

"Socho! He literally look at me," Trisha whispered, clutching her chest.

"I am saying, the scene was in slow motion," Ridhima added, eyes sparkling.

Just then—Preeti ma'am swept into the classroom like an unexpected power outage. Chalk in hand, sari flowing behind her like a cape, and that signature no-nonsense energy radiating off her like Wi-Fi signals.

Trisha leaned toward Ridhima, disappointment written all over her face.

"Yaar yeh aa gayi," she whispered with a tragic sigh. "I did not see her in the assembly. I was happy that she did not come today..."

Ridhima rolled her eyes dramatically. "I felt the same too. Par dekho kaise tapak gayi. Jaise Google search kholte hi ad aa jata hai."

Ira, ever the silent assassin, kept her eyes fixed on the blackboard while whispering from the side of her mouth, "Y'all ever noticed how Preeti ma'am somehow always hears us whispering?"

Ridhima nodded, deadpan. "Like she's got spy-level ears. Low-key MI6 agent."

Ira added, "No bro. She's Wi-Fi Aunty. Full-time connected to everyone's frequency."

Trisha chuckled. "True! Even when we blink loudly, she turns around."

"Exactly," Ridhima grinned, eyes twinkling. "She should be kept permanently in the staff room.. Bechare teachers ko free Wi-Fi mil jaayega."

That was it.

Trisha burst out laughing — tried to suppress it with her hand, but ended up making that awkward snorting noise that echoed a little too loudly in the suddenly quiet room.

Preeti ma'am paused mid-sentence, narrowed her eyes like a predator spotting movement in the bushes, and turned slowly toward the back row.

"You both. Stand up," she said, voice sugar-sweet with hidden thunder, pointing directly at Ridhima and Trisha.

They stood — sheepishly, awkwardly, still smiling like guilty toddlers.

"You both are laughing a lot, aren't you?" Preeti ma'am said, one eyebrow arched. "Toh chalo, tell everyone. Hum bhi hans lein thoda."

Trisha leaned toward Ridhima, muttering just loud enough for her to hear, "Batane ke liye toh hum bata dein... par phir jo aap humara kachumbar banayengi, uska kya?"

Ridhima bit her lip, trying not to laugh, her shoulders shaking.

Preeti ma'am was just inhaling — about to launch into what was surely going to be a full-fledged lecture on "Classroom Decorum and the Decline of Discipline in Today's Youth"...

When suddenly — Knock Knock.

Everyone's head turned.

A soft knock at the door. Like fate itself had arrived to rescue the clowns in the back row.

Preeti ma'am's glare froze mid-air as she turned toward the door.

A sugary voice floated in like artificial sweetener. "May I come in, Miss?"

Every head turned. 

Sanya.

The crowned queen of perfection. Always polite. Always helpful. Always ready to stab you with kindness.

Preeti Ma'am's tone did a full 180. "Yes, Sanya beta, come in."

"Ma'am, actually I'm here to make an announcement. May I?"

"Of course, beta. Go ahead."

Trisha nudged Ridhima's elbow and whispered, "See see, Aa gayi teachers ki chamchi."

Ridhima snorted. "Chamchi? Arey kadhaai, pateeli, karchi — sab kuch hai yeh! Even the word 'chamchi' falls short for her drama ."

She wasn't done.

"Mam, actuallyyy I'm here to make an announcementttt," Ridhima mimicked her syrupy voice with an exaggerated eye roll. "Huttt, asli mein toh chudailon jaisi awaaz hai iski."

Trisha nearly choked on her laughter.

"Wahi toh! Did you guys see it how she was roaming around the teacher in the last session — Ma'am, main blackboard saaf kar doon? Ma'am, main aapka purse le aaoon? Ma'am, notebook staffroom mein rakh doon? Ma'am, aap rest karo, main bacho ko chup kara deti hoon!"

She took a dramatic breath and went in for the kill, "Ma'am, I made a greeting card for you! Ma'm, I cleaned your chair!"

Trisha clutched her heart like she was in an Ekta Kapoor soap.

"Arey, itna aage peeche toh bacche bhi nahi ghoomte maa baap ke zameen ke liye, jitna yeh chipki rehti thi — billi ki poonchh kahi ki!"

Ridhima burst out laughing. "Kutte ki poonchh hota hai!"

"Haan! Lekin yeh toh billi hai na!"

And that was it.

They completely lost it.

Even Ira cracked a smile, shaking her head at her Pagal best friends.

"Okayyy everyone, listen up!" Sanya clapped her hands dramatically at the front of the class like she was hosting an awards show.

"I'm here to announce the clubs for this year. It's compulsory—yes, you heard me—compulsory for every student to join at least one club according to their interest." She flicked her hair like she was on a ramp.

"So just tell me one by one your name and the club you want to join. Easy-peasy."

"Oye! Which club are you two joining?" Ira leaned across the bench and asked Trisha and Ridhima with full gossip vibes.

"Yaar! Was it necessary to make it compulsory ?" Trisha whined, flopping on the desk dramatically like her dreams had just been crushed, "Yeh toh zabardasti hai! Sahi atyachaar hai iss school ka."

"You have a problem with everything," Ridhima said while sketching something on her notebook, "Because of this club, the last two periods will get bunked, look at it from that angle."

Trisha paused for a second, then her eyes lit up. "Areee haan! Yeh toh socha hi nahi... aur ussi bahaane woh bhi dikh jaayega." She did a little dreamy sigh, and Ira rolled her eyes.

"First, decide which club you want to join!" Ira said, pulling out the club list. "I am taking Arts Club. What are you taking, Ridhi?"

"Obviously Sports Club! Cricket ke alawa aur kuch soojhta hai kya mujhe? I breathe cricket, I am cricket!" Ridhima declared with full stadium-energy.

"Tum dono ka toh set hai. Which club should I choose?" Trisha looked at both of them helplessly.

"You are good at drama, toh Drama Club!" Ira said instantly. "Anyway, it is a part of the Arts Club. Tu mere saath hi join kar le."

"You are saying it right," Ridhima nodded. "Drama queen hai yeh, perfectly fit karegi."

Trisha narrowed her eyes. "Pehli baat toh yeh—"

Before she could finish, both Ira and Ridhima burst into song like it was suddenly a Bollywood musical:

🎶"jo tu tik tok tik tok chalti hai
Maana ye saari teri high heels ki galti hai
Rok toh jaa tu hang on, ye to bata tu hai kaun
Kahan se aayi hai, kaha ko jaayegi
Pagal ladki mujhe marwayegi
Bas kar ye jalwe na dikha
Ye sab main bahut dekh chukka
Tujh jaisi toh pat jati hai
Phir durghatna ghat jati hai
Main hoon shikari kudiye
Khali mera waar nee jaata
Mujhko na pehchane kyun
Tere ghar akhbar nee aata"🎶

They went full YO YO Honey Singh mode, tossing imaginary hair and acting like backup dancers.

Trisha stared at them for a moment, then couldn't help but join in with a few head bobs. But reality hit fast.
"Ho gaya tum dono ka Honey Singh ka concert?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's YO YO Honey Singh, Darling!" both Ira and Ridhima said in perfect sync, like fangirls on auto-pilot.

"Shut up, Dramebaaz kahi ki. Waise bhi, I don't even do drama, okay? But fine, Arts Club it is. All the rest are either boring or require some talent to get entry in them, which I don't have."

"Sahi keh rahi hai. Same to same mere saath bhi wahi scene hai," Ira agreed, nodding seriously like they were planning national policy.

Just then Ridhima's eyes widened. "Oye dekho! S.G. aa gayi!"

"Hein? SG?" Ira and Trisha asked, confused.

"Arey! Sanki Gudiya!" Ridhima whispered with a grin, and all three of them burst into muffled giggles.

Enter Sanya, strutting up to their desk with full teacher's-pet energy.

"All three of you tell me your names and which club you want to join," she snapped with major attitude.

"Don't you know our name? Sanki—I mean—Sanya?" Trisha said innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.

"And what kind of tone are you using? Thoda tameez se baat kar," Ridhima added, not even trying to hide her irritation.

"This is my tone. And I don't have time for time-wasters like you. I have to go to another class too. So hurry up," Sanya rolled her eyes like she was auditioning for a villain role.

Ira suddenly flipped into full Aacharya mode, "Apne netro ko naa iss prakar chakra aakriti mein mat ghumaa anyatha tum bhengi ho jaaogi. Waise hi mukh dekha nahi jaata, tatpaschat aur nahi dekha jaayega."

Trisha whispered to Ridhima, "What did she said?"

Ridhima whispered back, "Don't know... lag raha hai jaise kisi samundar ke tat par bhejne wali baat kar rahi hai."

"What?! What did you say?" Sanya asked, confused.

"Whatever you said, doesn't matter. Now you just tell me which club you want to join or else I will tell ma'am that you guys are wasting time. !" she threatened.

"Haan toh bol de! Darte nahi hai hum kisise, samjhi?" Ridhima shot back, ready to throw hands.

"Arey Ridhi! Chup ho ja meri behen, kyu maar khilwana chahti hai " Ira quickly whispered, holding Ridhima back like a peace ambassador.

"Arey yaar, don't feel bad, we were just joking," Trisha said with a fake sweet smile. "Batate hai, batate hai... but tell me which section are you in?"

"Kyun batau?" Sanya folded her arms.

Ridhima smirked, leaning forward. "Mat bata. We already know. You are in section A,  right?"

Sanya raised an eyebrow. "Galat. I am in section B."

All three of them snapped their heads towards each other like they just witnessed a twist in a K-drama.

"What? Are you in 11-B?" Ridhima asked again, just to be sure.

"Haan! Suna nahi kya dhang se?"

Trisha's jaw dropped, eyes wide. She whispered to herself, "Abey Yaar... Yeh Kamini toh uske section mein hai. Kya kismat hai iski."

" Will you tell me now or should I go?" sanya said.

"Sports," Ridhima said confidently.

"Arts," Trisha and Ira chorused in unison, their voices so lazy it was a wonder they managed to say it at all.

Sanya, the ever-efficient class rep, scribbled down their preferences without a word. With her usual polite charm, she flashed a sweet smile at Preeti ma'am and gave a graceful little wave before walking out of the classroom.