Hi Readers! We hope you guys are enjoying the chapters, here is another one, and you all gonna love it for sure.😉Do tag your friends also😊.

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Authors POV

Kiaan's elbow brushed against Vritika's wrist, nudging her hand away from the desk. "Apna haath side hata," he muttered.

Vritika snapped her head toward him and shoved his hand back with a sharp flick. "Tu hata na apna haath! You've taken up all the space, mote!"

Kiaan let out a scoff, leaning back in exaggerated disbelief. "Maine li hai?! Nakchadi toh tu thi hi, ab andhi bhi ho gayi hai kya?"

"Andha toh tu hai!" Vritika shot back. "That's why you can't see all this space." Her eyes flashed as she pointed at the vacant stretch of desk. 

Kiaan pointed his finger at her. "Zyada mat bol, samjhi?" He sliced the air with a mock slap. "Nahi toh padega ek, yahi beech jaayegi!"

Vritika's chair screeched against the floor as she shot to her feet.  "Aur maine maar diya na, toh yahi se seedha Kanyakumari jaake girega, samjha?" She seized his wrist and yanked it down with a fierce tug. "Hatt yaha se!"

Kiaan jerked back, springing to his feet. "Why should I? You go away!" he snapped, shooing her off with a sharp flick of his hand. "Aur jaake kahin aur apna dera daal, chudail kahin ki."

Vritika's face flushed crimson, she leaned forward. "Tu hoga masaan!" she yelled, inches from his face.

The class froze, a collective gasp rippling through the room. Desks creaked as heads turned. 

The teacher turned slowly, arms folded tight across her chest, her eyes narrowing with weary disbelief. "What happened, bachcho? Why are you both shouting and standing?" she asked, her tone flat with exhaustion.

"Ma'am, iss daayan ne pura desk gher rakha hai!" Kiaan exclaimed, stabbing his finger toward Vritika. "Look at this, there's nowhere for me to sit!" He snapped, gesturing furiously at the cramped seat.

Vritika's protest came fast. "Ma'am, I didn't!" She pointed at his scattered bag and books. "He's spread his things everywhere". She scoffed, shoving his arm lightly in frustration. "Aur mujhe keh raha hai!"

Kiaan's voice dropped into a growl as he lunged forward. "Now you are gone!" His hand grabbed a fistful of her hair.

Vritika shrieked, her own fingers tangling into his in retaliation, the two locked in a furious tug.

"Bachcho, what are you doing?!" the teacher's voice cracked as she hurried between them. "Leave each other!" She tried to pry them apart, her arms straining.

Kiaan's fingers curled around a pencil, his eyes narrowing as he lunged toward her hand. Vritika dodged, her braid whipping over her shoulder as she pulled back with a shriek.

She grabbed her geometry box and flung it in a burst of fury. It sailed across the room, missing Kiaan entirely and striking the teacher's forehead with a sharp crack.

Both froze, their hands suspended mid‑air, Kiaan's fingers twitched, Vritika's breath caught, and slowly their gazes collided.

"It happened because of you!" Vritika burst out, her finger stabbing the air toward him.

Kiaan's jaw tightened. "Don't blame me. You did it," he ground out through clenched teeth.

His jabbed his finger back at her. "You're the one who tossed the geometry box!"

With a huff, Vritika rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I don't know what your problem is!" she burst out, pointing straight at him. "Jab se tu aaya hai, meri image ki aisi‑ki‑taisi kar rakhi hai, Ghatotkach kahin ka!"

A scoff escaped Kiaan's throat, his palms met with exaggerated slowness. "Haan, haan, jaise tere aane se meri zindagi mein khushi ki lehrein aa gayi hai," he said, his lips curling into a mock smile. "Tauntika!"

"Just shut up, both of you!" the teacher burst out, her patience snapping at last.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare that cut through the room, her finger pointing at them. "I've been watching you two for a long time now," she said, her tone cold and clipped. 

With a sharp sigh, she threw her hands up. "All you ever do is fight!" She spun toward the door, and motioned for them to follow. "Come with me, straight to the principal's office. Sir will deal with you."

Kiaan's fingers dug into the desk, knuckles whitening as he shook his head.

His eyes darted toward the teacher. "Ma'am, no, please don't take me to the principal's office," he begged, his hands twisting together in desperation. "Meri izzat ka kya hoga?"

Vritika's eyes flicked sideways, her lips curling as she muttered under her breath, "Izzat hai iski?" 

But in the next heartbeat she straightened, folding her hands neatly in front of her, she turned toward the teacher with a mask of innocence. "Yes, ma'am... please don't take us to the principal's office. It won't happen again."

But the teacher had had enough. Her face hardened as she stormed forward, seizing both of them by the arms. With a grip that brooked no argument, she began dragging them toward the door.

_______________________________

Vritika and Kiaan stood outside the principal's office. Their palms were slick with sweat, their faces arranged into masks of false innocence.

Vritika tilted her head, one eyebrow arched in sharp challenge.

She leaned just close enough for her words to sting, her breath brushing the space between them. "Ab bol na... bada aa raha tha pencil leke mujhe maarne," she hissed, her lips barely moving.

A scoff tore from Kiaan's throat. "Haa toh tune bhi toh geometry box phek ke maara... woh bhi madam ke sir pe!" he snapped. "Don't blame me. We're standing here because of you!" His finger jabbed toward her. 

Just as their quarrel threatened to flare again, the teacher turned sharply, her eyes blazing. "Shut up, dono! Go inside. NOW."

The door creaked open and Vritika and Kiaan shuffled inside, their eyes darting nervously around the office.

Principal Sir raised his head from the file in front of him, adjusting his glasses as they slid down to the tip of his nose. His brows furrowed as he looked at the teacher, then at the pair standing awkwardly before him.

"What's the matter, ma'am? And why are these two here?" he asked.

"Good afternoon, Sir," they said together. 

Their palms were still clammy, their posture rigid, but the words came out smooth.

The teacher drew in a weary breath, her shoulders sagging as she faced the principal. "Sir, actually these two have broken the classroom discipline, fought physically, and even injured me," she reported.

The principal looked up sharply, his eyes widening as his glasses slipped to the edge of his nose.

"What?" he barked. "Yeh kya badtameezi hai? Tum log class mein padhne aate ho ya ladne?" His voice dropped into cold disapproval as he fixed them with a glare. "And you injured your teacher? What kind of behavior is this?"

"Sir, actually-" the two blurted together. They stopped mid‑sentence.

Vritika's lips pressed into a thin line, Kiaan's brows furrowed, and instantly, their heads snapped toward each other, eyes locking in sharp glares for daring to interrupt.

Principal Sir's patience snapped. "One by one!" He pointed directly at Vritika, his glare locking onto her. "You first."

With a careful shuffle, Vritika moved closer, her eyes wide. "Sir, Kiaan ne mujhe chudail bola... and he took up all the space on my desk," she declared. "I was just sitting there peacefully."

"Kiaan?!" The principal's brows knitted together.

His gaze flicked from her to the boy standing beside her. "Kiaan Vardhan?" he asked again. 

The teacher gave a small, firm nod, confirming the name.

Principal Sir leaned back slightly, his finger lifting to point directly at Kiaan. "You're in the football team, right?" he asked.

Kiaan lifted his chin. "Yes, Sir! I'm Kiaan Vardhan, I play striker for the school's football team." He straightened quickly, tucking his hands behind his back in a show of discipline.

"And Sir, I'm Vritika Khanna-" she began, but the words barely left her lips before the principal's voice sliced through the air. 

"Khanna? You're Khanna?" His brows shot up, disbelief etched across his face. 

Vritika froze, her mouth still half‑open, then nodded slowly, confusion flickering in her wide eyes.

The principal's eyes narrowed. "Tum Trisha Khanna ki behen ho?"

Vritika blinked, startled, then nodded quickly. "Yes, Sir... woh meri badi behen hai," she replied, her tone soft, confusion flickering beneath her words.

"Tabhi usike jaisi ho," the principal muttered. He shook his head slowly, leaving Vritika standing in uneasy silence, her chest tightening under the weight of his disappointment.

"Nahi, Sir," the teacher interjected firmly.

She slipped an arm around Vritika's shoulder, drawing her close with protective warmth. "Yeh bilkul uske jaise nahi hai. Arey, uska toh bedagarg tha padhai mein... yeh toh topper hai class ki."

Vritika tilted her head, wiggling her brows at Kiaan with playful triumph. He groaned and rolled his eyes.

"And class ki sabse shaant student hai yeh," the teacher continued. But the word 'shaant' had barely left her lips when Kiaan let out a sharp snort. 

His eyes swept Vritika from head to toe. "Shaant? Aur yeh?" he scoffed. "Kabse, ma'am?" He swung his head toward the teacher. 

"Humesha se," Vritika shot back, leaning closer until her words were almost in his face. "But jabse tu aaya hai na, tabse main sirf ladti‑jhagdati rehti hoon, Masaan!" she burst out.

"Mujhe. Iss. Naam. Se. Mat. Bulaya. Kar." Kiaan's voice thundered, each word punched out with deliberate force, his jaw tight, his face was inches from hers. 

The sound was so loud that everyone in the office winced and covered their ears.

"Bulaungi!" Vritika yelled back, her voice sharp as she hurled the word into his face.

"Enough!" Principal Sir's voice boomed. 

His chair scraped back as he rose to his feet. "I'm calling your parents right now," he declared, wagging a finger at them. "This kind of behavior will not be tolerated in my school."

"Sir! Please, sir, ghar par phone mat kijiye!" Vritika burst out, her voice trembling as she folded her hands tightly in front of her chest. 

"Aage se nahi hoga, sir. Please." Her voice softened, her gaze darting between the principal and the teacher.

"Yes, Sir... we'll try not to fight," Kiaan said. "But Sir, please don't call our parents," he added quickly.

Principal Sir folded his arms across his chest with deliberate calm, his brows furrowed. "No," he said. "Your parents should know what their kids are up to."

"Sir..." Vritika began, her voice trembling, the words catching in her throat. "My father has gone outstation..." Her eyes lowered, hands twisting nervously at her sides.

Kiaan's eyes slid sideways. He exhaled sharply, the corner of his mouth twitching. Here we go, his mind muttered, resigned to the drama unfolding.

"...and my mother is very ill, Sir," Vritika continued, her voice trembling as she drew in a shaky breath. 

"Unhe bahut serious illness huyi hai... jiske baare mein woh hume kuch nahi batati," she sniffled, her lashes damp as she pressed a hand to her chest. "Lekin hum sab samajhte hai, Sir," she added, pointing toward herself.

The principal's expression stayed rigid, his folded arms and furrowed brows. Yet Vritika leaned forward, her shoulders squaring, her voice hovering just behind her lips.

"Sir, she didn't even tell Papa," she whispered, folding her hands tightly. "So that he does not get stressed during work. He is handling a very big project... If he gets a call, Sir... he will come back immediately."

Her lashes fluttered as she raised her gaze, tears glistening at the edges. A shaky breath escaped her lips before she spoke. "If he comes to know about Mummy's health, he will get tensed. And, Sir... he is already a BP patient." she whispered, her palms tightening together

The teacher's eyes fluttered in surprise. Kiaan's gaze flickered sideways. The principal's pen halted.

"Please, Sir," Vritika murmured, her voice so faint it was nearly swallowed by the hush. "Ghar ke mahaul ki aisi kam taisi ho jaayegi."

Principal Sir turned sharply toward Kiaan, his gaze narrowing. 

He folded his arms across his chest, and raised a single eyebrow in challenge. "And you? Your father has also gone outstation and your mother is ill?" he asked.

Kiaan blinked with deliberate exaggeration. "Nahi, Sir..." he began, his voice hesitant, shoulders slumping. "Woh... actually, my father is in depression."

"Jiske chalte... Mummy ne hume chhod diya. Woh Mama ke yaha chali gayi." The sentence faltered, Kiaan's voice breaking at the edges, his gaze fixed on the floor.

The principal shifted, spine stiffening as he straightened in his chair.

"Papa is very disturbed, Sir. Bechaare... he doesn't even eat properly," Kiaan sniffled. 

His fingers brushed at the corners of his eyes, squeezing invisible tears from eyes that remained stubbornly dry. "Unhe toh apne aas‑paas ka bhi hosh nahi rehta..." he added, his gaze dropped to the floor.

Vritika shot him a sideways glance, a flicker of reluctant admiration crossing her face. For once, even she was impressed.

"Sir," Kiaan said, "if you call him... his reaction may be unpredictable. He will take more stress... Sir, please." His palms pressed together, his head bowing slightly. "Unko mat batayiye. Woh toh... toot jaayenge."

Principal Sir stared at Kiaan, then at Vritika, his brows knitting tighter with each glance. At last his eyes landed on the teacher, who blinked rapidly, her expression a muddle of confusion and faint distress.

"Sir," she murmured. "We are seriously sorry... lekin please, ghar pe call mat kijiye." Her gaze lifted cautiously, lashes damp, palms pressed together in earnest.

Principal Sir narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Do Kiaan's elder brother or sisters study in this school, ma'am?" he asked.

The teacher blinked, her lashes fluttering as she pulled herself out of her emotional haze. "Yes, Sir. Kiaan has an elder brother. He is in class eleven," she said.

"Good," Principal Sir said. "Call him. And Trisha."

The teacher straightened, nodding quickly. "Yes, Sir," she replied as she stepped out of the office.

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"Hey! So you're confused about sorting materials into groups, right?" Vanya tilted her head. "Relax. It's actually simple once you know what to look for"

Nirvan leaned forward across the desk, the edge of his smile tugging at one corner of his lips as he watched her carefully.

Vanya started, her eyes flashing with sudden brightness. "Properties. Like appearance, hardness, solubility, transparency-" She rattled them off.

Nirvan's smile curled into mischief, eyebrows bouncing as he leaned forward. "Appearance, huh? Then I've definitely noticed something very attractive sitting across from me." He grinned wider.

She shot him a warning glare. "Nirvan..." she said, dragging out his name with mock severity.

He threw his hands up. "Okay, fine! Sorry-sorry." He chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. "Take a wooden chair," she said. "It's an object. The material is wood."

Nirvan tilted his head, the curve of his smile deepening as his gaze lingered on her. "So if you're the object in front of me, what's your material? Because whatever it is, it's clearly rare." He wagged his eyebrows for emphasis.

She waved him off with a flick of her hand, her gaze fixed on the notebook instead. "Some materials dissolve in water," she continued. "Others don't."

Nirvan's smile widened. "So sugar dissolves... and I-" he paused "apparently dissolve when you explain things." His chuckle followed immediately.

Vanya's patience finally cracked. "Nirvan! I swear, agar tu ab chup nahi hua na, I'll complain to ma'am!" Her voice was sharp, her finger pointed at him.

Nirvan drew in a dramatic gasp, hands shooting up. "Arre!" he exclaimed, eyes wide.

Vanya's patience frayed. "Ma'am made you sit with me to study, not to flirt. So please, focus on your work and let me do mine."

Nirvan's voice rose in protest. "Padhai! Padhai! Padhai! Nahi ho rahi mujhse padhai, mujhe karni hi nahi hai." He closed the book with a snap, leaning back.

Vanya rose abruptly. "Tu aise nahi maanega. I'll have to tell ma'am," she declared.

Nirvan gasped, snatching up the book and waving the book inches from her face. "Arey! Padh toh raha hoon!"

The moment the impact landed, Vanya recoiled, her hand pressing against her eye as she winced. "Aey! Muh pe maar de mere," she muttered.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nirvan said at once, leaning forward, guilt flickering in his tone. "Jyada jor se toh lagi hai na?" His words tumbled out quickly, even as Vanya's glare pinned him in place.

Vanya punched him lightly on the headl. 

Nirvan winced, hand flying up to rub the sore spot. The moment passed quickly, and both of them returned to their books.

Nirvan leaned closer, nudging her elbow lightly. "Tune kuch khaaya?"

Her eyes stayed glued to the lines of text, fingers tracing the margin. "Nahi. Abhi lunch mein khaaungi," Vanya murmured.

"Abhi khaate hai na," Nirvan urged.

Vanya shook her head, eyes still fixed on her book. "Abhi lunch nahi hua hai, aur class ke beech mein main khaaungi nahi." Nirvan's gaze slid sideways toward her.

Nirvan tugged his lunch out of the bag, whispering with a sly smile, "Mai khaa raha hoon."

Vanya's patience snapped. "Ma'am!" she called. 

"Abey o! Pagal aurat!" Nirvan hissed under his breath. "Pagal hai kya? Ma'am ko kyun bol rahi hai? Woh waise hi mujhse chidi rehti hai. After this she'll send me straight to the principal's office."

Vanya's only response was a roll of her eyes.

"Apne dosto ko bachate hain, phasate nahi hain, bewakoof..." he added. 

Vanya turned toward him deliberately, her gaze scanning him from bottom to top.

"Dost?" Vanya's brows arched. She studied him for a moment before asking, "Kaun dost?"

Nirvan leaned back. "Main aur kaun? Girlfriend toh tu banne se rahi. At least dost toh ban."

Vanya folded her arms. "Nahi ban rahi teri dost. Harkatien dekhi hai tune apni?"

Her eyes narrowed, scanning him with deliberate slowness before flashing wide. "Kya bol raha tha uss din? Haa?" She waved her hand. "I like you more than a friend... aur kya thi woh ghatiya line?" Her words faltered as she frowned.

"My feelings wouldn't change... I'll always like you," Nirvan murmured, hesitant, his gaze flickering toward her and away again. 

"Haa! Kya tha woh sabh? Kya tha? Haan?" Vanya's eyes widened. 

"Woh toh achi kismat thi teri jo mujhe adda nahi dikha, warna sar phod deti tera wahi." She mimed a punch in the air, and Nirvan instinctively raised his hands to shield himself.

"Upar dekh," Vanya said, her fingers curling into his hair as she pulled his head upward.

"Ab se nahi kahunga, pakka!" Nirvan winced as she shook his head. "Mere baal chorh de yaar, mere baal chorh de." He tried to pry her hand away.

"Padh ab shaanti se," Vanya said firmly, letting go of his hair. Nirvan's fingers went straight to his head, adjusting the disheveled strands with exaggerated care.

Silence stretched for a moment before he broke it. "What if main apni yeh sabh harkatein chhod doon? Toh kya tab tu meri dost banegi?" Vanya drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.

As Vanya opened her mouth, Nirvan lifted his palm in a hurried gesture. 

Her brow rose in quiet challenge, and he dropped his hand at once. "Pehle meri puri baat sun le," he murmured, "phir jitni gaaliyan deni hai utni de liyo."

She nodded faintly, and Nirvan's smile deepened.

"As a friend, main kabhi apni line cross nahi karunga. Tujhe kabhi uncomfortable feel nahi hone dunga. No matter what happens, main hamesha tere saath rahunga. Even if you're wrong... I'll stand by you." 

Vanya blinked slowly. "...Okay. We can be friends. But only friends. Nothing else. Got it?" Vanya's tone was measured.

Nirvan's face brightened, relief flooding his features as he nodded too quickly. 

"Aur agar tune kabhi bhi... I'm repeating, kabhi bhi aisi waisi harkatien kari ya socha bhi na," she warned, "toh muh tod dungi tera. Samjha?" 

"Samjh gaya-samjh gaya, Devi!" Nirvan said, palms pressed together, his head bent in exaggerated submission.

"Padh bhi le ab," Vanya replied, her hand landing on his head in a swift smack. 

Nirvan rubbed the spot, muttering under his breath, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his laughter.

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Trisha quickened her steps down the corridor, her shoes clicking against the worn tiles. "Patani kya hai iss buddhe ke," she muttered under her breath.

"School mein koi kaand hota hai toh seedha mujhe bula leta hai," she grumbled, kicking at a loose scrap of paper on the floor.

She paused at the door, lowering her voice, and whispered to an invisible audience only she could see. "Ab main badi ho gayi hoon bhyii... meri bhi koi love life hai. Bhale hi one-sided ho, par hai toh na?" A wry smile tugged at her lips.

Trisha pushed the door open. "Kya hai? Kyu bulaya hai?" she blurted.

It was only a heartbeat later when her gaze lifted and she realize she hadn't muttered them in her head. 

The Principal and the staff turned toward her in unison. Her breath caught, her body stiffened. She stood rooted to the spot, wishing she could rewind the moment.

"I mean... may I come in, sir?" Trisha asked softly. The Principal didn't answer at once. He gave a quiet nod, his attention still fixed on the staff members clustered around him.

As Trisha stepped inside. Her eyes widened. Her sister was already there, seated with quiet composure.

"Tu... tu yaha kya kar rahi hai?" Trisha's voice broke into a whisper. She drifted toward her sister, drawn by confusion.

"Hi, didi!" Kiaan's voice rang out from the side, his hand shooting up in a cheeky wave.

Trisha blinked, caught off guard. "Hi..." she managed. The word came out hesitant, unsure.

Her eyes darted to Vritika. With exaggerated expressions and wild hand gestures, she mouthed silently, 'Who is he?' Her brows arched.

Vritika rolled her eyes. "Arey! Iss Mashaan ki wajah se hi toh hum yaha hain." She jabbed a finger toward Kiaan, who sat looking far too pleased with himself.

"Kya?!" Trisha's eyes flew wide.

"Iss Mashaan ki wajah se hum yaha hai," Vritika repeated, slower this time.

"Kya?!" Trisha echoed again, her shock refusing to fade.

"Behri ho gayi hai kya? Do baar bol chuki hoon mai," Vritika snapped, rolling her eyes as she let out a sharp breath.

"Woh toh mai reaction de rahi thi," Trisha countered. 

Vritika exhaled again, shaking her head in disbelief.

Then Trisha's gaze caught on Vritika's hair. "And what happened to your hair? It looks like someone has pulled it out!" Her words tumbled out in shock.

"Didi, because we pulled each other's hair," Kiaan replied.

"Kya!" Trisha's voice shot through the room. 

Heads turned, startled by her sudden outburst. Realizing her slip, she shrank back, mumbling, "Sorry," under her breath, her cheeks warming with embarrassment.

She swung her gaze back to Kiaan. "Are you serious? She pulled your hair?!" Her words rose again.

"Haan! And she also threw the geometry box. But it hit the teacher. Then she brought us here," Kiaan admitted.

Vritika's eyes flashed. "Aur apna mat bataiyo," she snapped as she glared at him. "You pulled my hair, mujhe pencil se maara, aur mujhe chudail bola."

Kiaan tilted his head. "I also said Tauntika," he reminded.

Trisha gasped. "Hein?! Tu meri behen ko Tauntika aur Chudail keh raha hai?! How dare you! Only the Khanna siblings have the right to assassinate her character... aur kisi ke paas nahi."

Vritika squinted at her, lips parting, ready to fire back when, "May I come in, sir?" The interruption sliced through the tension. Every head turned toward the door in unison.

And there he stood.

Mahin.

His shirt hung slightly untucked. The tie dangled loose around his neck, a faint sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead. Strands of hair clung stubbornly to his face.

The room was quiet, but his breathing was not. Each rise and fall of his chest seemed to drag the echoes of the court with him. Dust streaked his shoes, proof of the ground he had covered. And his eyes scanned the room until they found the one he had come for.

Trisha's jaw dropped, her eyes tracing him from bottom to top, unable to hide her shock. 

Vritika pressed both hands against her mouth, muffling the gasp that escaped. 

Kiaan looked away, his gaze skimming the walls, the floor, anywhere that wasn't Mahin.

Mahin folded his arms across his chest. "What have you done?" he asked.

"Hi, bhaiya!" Vritika waved enthusiastically. "Should I tell you what this Masaan has done??"

Mahin's brows knitted together, his frown deepening as he turned toward her. "Masaan?" he repeated. "Kaun Masaan?"

"Arey! You didn't know? He was named today in the third period. I named him!" Vritika announced.

Kiaan's eyes narrowed into a deadly glare. "Bhaiya, ignore her," he muttered. "We are here because of Tauntika."

"Ab yeh Tauntika kaun hai?" Mahin asked, his brows furrowing deeper, confusion etched across his face.

Without missing a beat, Trisha and Kiaan swung their fingers toward Vritika in perfect unison. Vritika lifted her hand high and waved.

"But what have you guys done?" Mahin asked again.

"Bhaiya woh... main desk par baitha tha-"

"Isne mujhe chudail bola-"

"Aur inhone ek dusre ke baal kheenche-"

The words collided, tumbling over one another as all three spoke at once.

"Ek minute! Chup karo sab." Mahin's voice thundered as he raised his hand.

One minute ticked by. Then another. The silence stretched as none of them dared to speak.

Mahin finally broke it. "Why are you guys not saying anything now?"

Kiaan lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. "You were the one who told us to keep quiet." 

Trisha and Vritika exchanged a solemn glance, nodding in perfect agreement.

"Hey Bhagwaan!" Mahin groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Are you guys serious? Tell me one by one, what happened?"

"I'll tell you, bhaiya!" Vritika jumped in, her hand shooting up.

"Why? He is my brother, so I will tell him! Not you," Kiaan objected, his glare sharp.

"You also told my sister about this! I did not feel jealous like you, jalkukda kahi ka!" Vritika snapped.

"Jalkukda?!" Kiaan gasped. He leaned forward, yelling right into her space. "Tu hogi nakchadi, chidchidi aurat, Jhalli, Miss Ghamandi, ladaku vimaan!"

Vritika didn't flinch. She shot back instantly. "Aur tu kya hai? Irritating, annoying, badtameez, Bewakoof-e-Shan, Chirkuta, Nalayak, Nonsense Nawab, idiot aadmi!"

"See!" the Principal finally cut in. "These two are still fighting."

His gaze shifted to Trisha. "Arey! Welcome, Trisha! Pure do din baad aayi ho. Kahan thi do din se?"

Trisha's lips stretched into a tight smile. Under her breath, she muttered, "Tere liye lakdiyan iktha kar rahi thi, Buddhe,"

Mahin's head snapped her way. His eyes widened the instant those words slipped from Trisha's mouth, for the first time since entering the room, he actually looked at her properly.

"Sir, class me thi," Trisha said smoothly to the Principal, her smile tight, her tone polite. But beneath her breath, she muttered, "Ab roj-roj teri shakal dekhne thodi naa aaungi, Buddhe!"

Mahin caught it. A tiny, involuntary laugh burst in his chest. He disguised it with a cough, turning away, jaw tight to hide the smile that threatened to break free, shoulders stiff, his expression neutral.

The Principal let out a long sigh. "Do you know what your siblings did in class?"    

"Sir, hume kaise pata hoga ki kya kiya hai inhone? Hum thodi na inki class me baithe thaion," Trisha said, her face perfectly straight, her tone calm.

Mahin blinked. He wasn't used to people talking to authority like this, definitely not used to a girl doing it with this much... grace.

She leaned forward, her smile tightening. "Aur sir, aap time waste mat karo. Fatafat batao ki matter kya hai. Lunch hone wala hai abhi."

For a heartbeat too long, he watched the angle of her jaw lifted in defiance, the confidence in her stance, the way she didn't fidget under authority.

The Principal's hard voice snapped him back. "Your brother and sister disrupted the class discipline, fought physically, and even injured their teacher."

"Bas? Itna hi?" Trisha exclaimed. 

Mahin turned to her, confusion flickering across his face.

"Itni si baat ke liye aapne hume bula liya?" she added, waving her hands between herself and Mahin.

Mahin almost choked. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away so the Principal wouldn't see the amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Jyada ho raha hai, jyada ho raha hai," Vritika whispered urgently, tugging at Trisha's sleeve.

But Trisha pressed on, her voice softening. "I mean... yeh matter toh aap bhi solve kar sakte thaion, sir. Hume bulane ki kya jarurat thi?"

Mahin blinked at Kiaan. "You started raising your hand on the teacher?" he yelled.

"Main nahi, bhaiya!" Kiaan shot back instantly, his finger darting toward Vritika. "Geometry box iska tha! Isne ma'am ko injured kiya, maine nahi!"

"It slipped!" Vritika yelped. Her eyes widened theatrically. "And anyway... he was going to hit me with a pencil! Main kya statue ban jaati?" she demanded.

Principal Sir cleared his throat. In an instant, the room's whispers shrank into silence.

"I don't care who started what," he said. "This is not how students of my school behave."

Vritika and Kiaan lowered their heads in perfect unison, guilt written across their faces.

Trisha leaned in. "Tu ghar chal! I stop you from making reels, so now you do all this in school? That's why mom and dad sent you? Haa..."

She punctuated her mock scolding with a light smack to Vritika's head and shoulder.

"What's going on, Kian? You're fighting in class? That too with a girl? Did we teach you all this?" Mahin's voice rang out.

Vritika smirked, her lips curling with mischief while Kiaan's eyes snapped toward her.

"Arey! It is not only his fault," Trisha said shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Vritika exhaled loudly, while Mahin and Kiaan turned to Trisha, their brows knitting in surprise.

Trisha leaned forward, smacking Vritika lightly on the head. "Yeh bhi toh barabar ki hisse-daar hai! Come on, say sorry to him," she insisted.

"Why? Why should I say sorry?" Vritika shot back. "He started the fight, he spread his stuff all over the desk, not me! Why should I say sorry to this Ghatokach?" She spat the words, pointing straight at Kiaan.

"Tu bhi toh poori desk pe faili hui thi," Kiaan shot back. "And don't forget, you pushed me first. Then I pulled your hair!" A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Acha! I push you, didn't I? Aise?" Vritika challenged, shoving him lightly.

"And I pulled your hair, didn't I? Aise?" Kiaan mimicked her tone as he reached out and tugged at her hair.

"What are you both doing?" Trisha snapped, wedging herself between them, her arms outstretched.

"Leave each other!" Mahin barked, his hand pressing them apart.

Vritika snatched up a file and hurled it straight at Kiaan. He ducked with a startled yelp, and the file sailed past him, heading directly toward the Principal.

The Principal bent low at the last second. The silence was immediate, broken only by the collective gasp that rippled through the room.

"Enough!" Principal Sir's voice rang out. "You have crossed all limits. Fighting in front of me? This is unacceptable. You deserve suspension."

"No, sir! Please, don't do this." Mahin's voice softened as he stepped forward. "We are extremely sorry for their behavior," he said carefully. "I assure you nothing like this will happen again. Please, sir, don't give them suspension."

"Yes, Buddh-sir! Please, they will not fight anymore," Trisha begged as she shot a sharp look at Kiaan and Vritika. "Bolo, nahi ladoge na?"

The two exchanged a miserable glance, their shoulders slumping as they nodded in unison. "Yes, sir. We won't fight anymore. Sorry, sir."

"Okay, fine." The Principal's eyes narrowed. "You are suspended from class activities for two days. No break time. No games period. You'll sit in the library, separately and write an essay titled 'How to Respect Classrooms and Classmates.' Minimum one thousand words. By hand."

"What? A thousand words?" Kiaan exclaimed. He leaned forward. "Sir, should we both write it together?"

"Sir, please..." Vritika chimed in quickly, her hands clasped. "Make the essay a little shorter... or let us write it together!"

Principal Sir fixed them with a blank stare.

"If I let you write together," he said dryly, "toh tum dono ne library ko library rehne nahi dena hai. Now OUT!"

They bolted from the office, their heads bowed, hearts pounding.

Outside the office, Mahin let out a long sigh. "Ghar par baat karenge." he warned. "Abhi seedhe class. Move."

Kiaan shot her a mischievous glance. "Tujhe toh dekh loonga. Essay mein likhunga, 'How to deal with Tauntika in class.'"

Vritika smirked. "Main bhi likhungi. 'How to avoid Ghatokach while trying to study.'"

With the children gone, Mahin's gaze settled on Trisha. Amusement flickered in his eyes, but beneath it lay a gentleness that softened his expression.

"Tumhari behen... bahut himmat wali hai," he said quietly. "Par mujhe lagta hai woh aisi isliye hai... kyunki shayad tum bhi aisi ho."

The words struck her still. Trisha's pulse sprinted ahead of her thoughts, her attempt at laughter breaking halfway.