‘That maybe... some laws of attraction don't need a physics teacher to explain them’

My own reckless words replayed in my head. Where was my mind when I was uttering those specific words out of my mouth? And well, what's going on in this little head of mine.

I know he is one by one ticking off every freaking point out of my ideal man's bucket list but that doesn't mean he is the one right. Right?

God, answer me he isn't the one right?

Ofcourse isshpishh you are overreacting-he can't be the one to live in your heart. Yeah calm down.

But then–why does my heartbeat skip every time he blinks with those beautiful eyelashes at me? Why does my cheeks turn scarlet when he comes undeniably close to me so that I could feel his breath? Why does my heart ache for him when he tries to hide his problems behind those unfunny jokes of his.

And most of all, why do I want to keep looking in his eyes but at the same time want to look down when he looks into my eyes with the same intensity.

“ishu fried momos ya tandoori momos?” Nirvan bhaiya said, calling me out of the whirlwind of my thoughts of him.

I tried to keep up with my composure as if nothing happened, trying to look normal in front of him “momos nahi momo hota hai wo !!” I said.

“Jo bhi hota haii. Pick one.” He said sitting on the bike, tapping on the handle.

“Fried momo.” Because well, my heart, mind and everything in my body is being fried because of—you know what I mean. I don't even wanna mention him.

I already did.

Aaaaaah.

I think I should maybe tell him about whatever I said in school was because of my mood swings due to ovulation. Yeah, that sounds good.

But how do I do that? I don't have Instagram either. Nor I want to ask for his number from my friends because they'll again ship me with that bhondu . Well, I don't know what cow shit goes through their respective heads.

And this overdramatic heart of mine won't spare me till I clear out the ‘raita’ I spread in between us. But why am I behaving like Lomov from ‘The proposal’ ?! Why am I being so hyperactive?

I don't have Natalya’s number either.

(Cbse people fast fast comment kardo if you are nerdy enough to to understand this reference 🥀)

Reehan’s pov

Why does sending a simple friend request on Instagram to someone feels so difficult? And why are my palms sweating though? It's just a tap right?

“Kya hua? Kiski aatma aagyi…aise kya ghoor rahaa hai phone main?” Kabir looked up as he took out five seconds to look at me out of his very busy schedule of fitting lego with Saira.

“Kuch nahi tu khelta reh” I replied to him, still staring at Ishayra's id on my phone. But, wait—why does it have very few followers? Maybe she wants to keep her life private. Aaahh then why will she follow me ?!

I braced myself up, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants and then finally! Finally! Clicked on the ‘follow’ and it turned black from blue as the ‘requested’ stared back at me.

I stared at it and it stared back at me harder.

Will she follow me?

Will she not follow me?

“Faaaaaah !” Saira scowled as half of her lego pieces fell off the bed.

And I looked at her with suspicion, “Saira beta, who the fu-..sorry who the hell is teaching you all these absurd words.”

And she passed one of her cutest plastic smiles to me, “You.”

Kabir cackled at that, high-fiving her while picking up the lego pieces. “Chi yaar Reehan yeh sab kya sikha raha hai.”

“Ohhh excuse me !! I don't even curse.” I defended myself. It was a fact though. And both of them ignored me as if I was the nitrogen in the room.

I again unlocked my phone but there wasn't any progress. It was just me and the message request making eye contact with each other.

Shortly after a while, Kabir’s phone buzzed and he picked up Aahana’s call. There were severe suspicious hums but I ignored them as I shouldn't poke my fingers into others' love life, especially when I don't have one and I'm totally naive about it.

Hastily he got up and smiled at Saira, “We'll complete the remaining one tomorrow Sairuu okayyy.”  and then he looked at me waving a bye bye.

Raising my one eyebrow at him, I asked, “Kahan jaa raha hai?” And he replied rubbing the back of his neck “Kuch important kaam hai.”

I nodded my head in agreement but what's the important kaam though?

Whatever.

I heard the front door click shut as Kabir finally headed out, leaving the house unusually quiet. I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying those same thoughts in my head. Then, my phone buzzed against my mattress.

A notification.

THE NOTIFICATION.

aaaaaa

Ishayra Kshetri accepted your follow request.

I sat up so fast I think I actually saw stars. She accepted! My thumb hovered over her name, my heart hammering against my ribs harder than it did when we were running from the Principal.

She accepted!!

But the initial rush of happiness was immediately swallowed by a wave of pure dread. Now what? The ball wasn't just in my court but it was sitting right at my feet, and I had no idea how to kick it without tripping.

Do I text her? If I text her now, does it look like I was sitting here waiting for the notification? (I was, but she doesn't need to know that).

“Hey.”No, too boring.

“About today...” Too serious.

“Happy Birthday to me again?” Too risky, she might actually come over and kill me this time.

I stared at the "Message" button like it was a live wire. My mind, usually so good at memorizing complex physics derivations, was currently a complete blank.

"Think, Reehan, think," I whispered to the empty room. "You're a topper. You can solve for x. Surely you can solve for a 'Hi'."

But x didn't have a sarcastic wit and a devastatingly pretty smile. x was easy. Ishayra was... complicated.

I started typing–aapke jaise log padhai ke alawa Instagram bhi chalate hai ?

I paused.

My thumb hovered over the blue arrow.

I was still staring at the blinking cursor, my thumb paralyzed over the Send button, when the screen suddenly flickered. A banner popped up at the top, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Ishayra—Don't even think about sending a 'Hey' or a 'Hello' like a typical nerd. I know you're staring at the screen right now.

I physically jumped, nearly dropping my phone on my face. How did she do that? Was she telepathic? Or was I just that predictable?

My heart was doing triple-time now. The "typing..." bubble appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared.

Ishayra— And for the record, I only accepted because I need the photos Kabir took of the decoration list. Don't let it get to your head.

A slow grin spread across my face. There she was. The tension in my shoulders vanished, replaced by that familiar, sparky energy she always brought out in me.

I deleted my long, formal draft and typed back with one hand, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Me—Wow. Not even five minutes and you're already making excuses for why you followed me back. It’s okay, Ishayra.🥀

I hit send before I could overthink it.

Ishayra—The only thing I'm honest about is that you’re a menace. Anyway, are you ready for tomorrow? The Principal looked like he was ready to hide us in the basement archives if a single flower is out of place.

I leaned back against my headboard, the glow of the phone the only light in my room.

Me—I’ve already memorized the checklist. But if we do end up in the basement, at least there won't be any nursery rhymes playing on loop. Just us and the spiders🧚🏻

Ishayra—Bold of you to assume I’d let the spiders hang out with us.

I laughed out loud, the sound echoing in my quiet room.

Ishayra—Also, I was thinking... since you're so good at 'memorizing,' I hope you memorized the way you looked in the class today. Because even the spiders would’ve noticed how red you got. It was almost... cute.

My heart did a full-on backflip. Cute? Did she just use the C-word? I actually put the phone face down on my chest and took a deep breath, trying to steady my pulse. She was flirting. Like, actually flirting.

No because the only C word she ever called me was ‘chomu’

I picked the phone back up, my fingers trembling slightly as I typed.

Me—Cute? I think the word you’re looking for is 'chomu.'

I bit my lip, wondering if that was too much. But then, the notification popped up almost instantly.

Ishayra—cant you digest that I called you cute !!

I groaned into my pillow, a massive, uncontrollable grin plastered on my face. She was definitely doing this on purpose. 

Me—You’re a menace, Ishayra Kshetri. Honestly.

Ishayra—Maybe. But not with everyone, you know. Sojaaoooo and don't dream about biology…there are other beautiful things to dream about..iykyk.

Me—will dream about the most beautiful thing in the world (iykyk) 🤸🏻

I stared at the screen long after the "Active Now" light went off. My face felt like it was on fire. I rolled over, hugging my pillow, feeling like I was floating somewhere between the ceiling and the clouds.

She is so different right now. And tomorrow was going to be very, very interesting.

Me—good night from your bhonduuu !

I plugged my phone in, the 1% warning flashing just as I hit the pillow. I stared at the ceiling, the silence of the room feeling much warmer than it had an hour ago.

🫀

Author's pov–

Morning rays of the sun splendid across the school ground. Some seniors were moving around to make sure the Mike system is plugged in properly. The choir students were practicing and laughing with eachother in the music room. The speaker of every classroom was blaring with the announcement of calling the students downstairs.

Amongst this, Nirvan was helping as a school prefect, to make sure the kindergarten kids were standing in a straight row and not intervening the line of first standard students.

“Mam, I don't think it's possible for them to stand here in this blazing heat. Is there any alternate option?” He asked one of the teacher.

“We will see. I'll send some volenteers from eleventh grade, after that please visit the first floor and check each washroom to make sure no student is bunking.” He nodded his head to the command.

After a few minutes.

Mahira and Aahana walked into the main ground together, both officially reporting for volunteer duty after a frantic call from the coordinator.

Aahana scanned the crowd, her eyes landing instantly on Nirvan, who was standing near the pillars looking far more dressed up than usual. She nudged Mahira, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and leaned in close to her ear.

"Enjoy, girlypop," Aahana whispered with a wink.

Before Mahira could even sputter a response, Aahana was already jogging toward the small auditorium, waving at a group of kindergarteners who were currently trying to manage their props.

Mahira stood there for a second, feeling the sudden warmth in her cheeks as she looked at Nirvan. He was already looking at her, his usual authoritative student persona slipping just enough to let a soft, genuine smile through.

Mahira stepped forward, her smile widening as she reached him.

"Chalo?" she said, gesturing toward the main building gate.

Nirvan didn't move immediately. He just watched her for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his nape in a gesture that was completely uncharacteristic of him.

"After you," he replied, his voice dropping to that low, gentle tone he only ever seemed to use when the two of them were in their own quiet bubble.

Mahira started walking, feeling his steady presence right behind her. She didn't need to look back to know his eyes were on her.

As they passed the flower station where Reehan and Ishayra were still bickering over a garland, Nirvan purposefully looked at the ceiling, trying to maintain his dignity while his sister suppressed a very loud, very obvious giggle.

Nirvan and Mahira moved through the corridors with a shared sense of duty, though their pace suggested they weren't in any particular hurry to finish their sweep of the empty classrooms.

"All clear in 302," Nirvan said, checking the room off a mental list as he pulled the door shut. He turned to her, a small, playful glint in his eyes. "You know, I used to be the one hiding in here during these events. It feels strange to be the one doing the hunting."

Mahira laughed softly, the sound bright in the sterile hallway. "I can’t imagine you bunking, Sir. You probably stayed behind to solve extra integration problems just for fun."

Nirvan winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nahi yaaawr main utna nahi padhta hun.. sometimes I just want to bunk this school…what about you?Were you a rebel?"

"Not a rebel," Mahira replied, her voice dropping to a giggly tone as they checked the girls' washroom entrance. "But I did once hide in the art room for two hours because I was too embarrassed to give a speech in front of the primary kids. I just sat there painting tiny ladybugs on my fingernails."

Nirvan stopped walking, looking down at her with a look of genuine surprise and amusement. "Ladybugs? Really?"

"Don't judge! They’re cute," she defended, her cheeks turning a soft pink. "I like small, cute things. Like those tiny keychains that squeak when you squeeze them, or when you see a puppy wearing a sweater for the first time. It’s impossible not to smile."

Nirvan leaned against the wall, his formal posture finally melting away completely. "A puppy in a sweater? That’s your weakness?"

"It’s a universal weakness," she countered, looking up at him. "What’s yours? Don't tell me it’s just physics and complex equations."

Nirvan looked away for a second, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. "I might have a collection of those miniature fountain pens. The ones that are only two inches long. I don't even use them. I just... I like how small and precise they are."

Mahira let out a delighted giggle, her eyes crinkling. "Miniature pens? Yahan bhi dikha diya ki aap kitaabi keede hi ho."

"Hey, you started it with the ladybugs," he said, his voice dropping to a warm, intimate whisper. He stepped a bit closer, the silence of the empty wing wrapping around them. "I guess I just like things that are... subtle. The things most people don't bother to notice."

Mahira felt her breath catch. The way he was looking at her made it clear he wasn't talking about pens o

r puppies anymore.

"I notice," she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The air in the quiet corridor felt suddenly thick, the distant sounds of the school choir rehearsing for Guru Purnima fading into a soft hum.

Nirvan stepped a fraction closer, his shadow overlapping hers on the linoleum floor. The talk of miniature pens and ladybugs vanished, replaced by a tension that made the space between them feel electric.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Nirvan’s gaze dropped to her lips and then back to her eyes, his expression a vulnerable mix of longing and hesitation. He looked like he wanted to say something—something that had nothing to do with coaching or physics and Mahira felt herself leaning in, drawn by the magnetic pull of him.

"Mahira..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The sound of his voice, so close and so soft, acted like a sudden wake-up call. The reality of the brightly lit hallway, the 'Staff Only" signs on the doors, and the fact that they were in the middle of a school building crashed back into her mind.

Mahira blinked, her heart hammering a rhythm against her ribs. She took a quick, shaky step back, her fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her shirt.

"The... the downstairs washrooms," she stammered, her voice breathy and high-pitched. "We still haven't checked the downstairs wing. The teacher... She'll be looking for the final report."

Nirvan froze, his hand half-extended as if he’d been about to reach for her. He pulled it back quickly, stuffing it into his pocket as he cleared his throat, his face flushing a deep, visible crimson.

"Right. Yes. The downstairs wing," he repeated, his voice returning with a shaky edge. "Check tha-t"

Mahira didn't wait for him to recover his composure. She gave him a quick, shy nod, her eyes darting toward the floor. "I’ll go check the primary block. You take the lab corridor?"

"Yeah," he managed, nodding stiffly. "Good plan."

She turned and practically bolted down the hallway, her footsteps echoing a bit too loudly in the silence. She didn't look back, but she could feel his gaze on her the entire way.

As she rounded the corner toward the stairs, she leaned against the cool wall for a split second, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks.

It was too close. Way too close for a Tuesday morning at school.

🍡

Ishayra was already doubled over by the time she reached the flower-decorated pillars, her laughter echoing through the corridors. Reehan, who was busy adjusting the VVIP name cards on the front row chairs, looked up with a mix of confusion and genuine concern.

Both of them were dressed in their finest traditional wear for the occasion—Ishayra in a leafy green suit and Reehan in a deep, rich violet kurta that looked incredibly sharp, even if he was currently scowling.

"Itna kyu hass rahi ho? Kuch phook liya hai kya?" Reehan asked, holding a stack of programs. When she didn't stop, he leaned in, lowering his voice. "Are you drunk? At a school function?"

Ishayra finally managed to catch her breath, though her shoulders were still shaking. "Tum... tum mujhe baigan jaise dikh rahe ho!"

Reehan’s jaw dropped, his ego clearly taking a direct hit. "Whaattt!!"

She let out another loud chuckle, pointing at his chest. "Look at your violet kurta! It just needs a green dupatta on your head and you’ll be a literal baigan." She looked down at the bright green fabric draped over her own shoulder and her eyes lit up. "Oh wait, haha!"

Before he could protest, she reached out and pulled her green dupatta over his head, draping it like a leafy stem atop his purple base She stepped back, folding her arms across her chest as she admired her handiwork.

Reehan stood there, draped in her green dupatta, looking like the most stylish vegetable in the history of the school. He let out a dramatic huff and pouted, his dark eyes narrowing. "Ek bhindi dusre insaan ko baigan bulati hui achi nahi lagti, Ishayra."

Ishayra’s laughter stopped instantly. She looked down at her own green outfit, then back at him, her hands on her hips. "Do I look like a bhindi to you?"

Reehan didn't answer immediately. He turned away, pretending to focus on the stage, but as he moved, he didn't hand the dupatta back. Instead, he let it slide down to his shoulder, the soft fabric catching a lingering scent of her vanilla perfume. He took a sharp intake of breath, the sweet, warm scent making his head spin for a second.

"Bhindi is my favourite sabji, you know," he said, his voice dropping to a low, quiet mumble as he kept his back to her.

"You!! Ruko, tumhare baigan ka bharta banati hu!" Ishayra shouted, her face a mix of laughter and mock fury as she lunged toward him.

Reehan didn't wait. He took off down the hallway, the green dupatta still trailing off his shoulder "Eww, that sounds so wrong!" he yelled back over his shoulder, his laughter echoing against the lockers.

Ishayra stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping as she processed his comment. "Chiii! Tumhare dimag mein kachra hai kya?" she yelled, pointing a finger at him while her face turned a shade of red that definitely wasn't from running.

Before Reehan could mount a defense, a stern-looking teacher rounded the corner, clutching a heavy DSLR camera.

"You two," she barked, thrusting the camera into Reehan’s startled hands. "Since you have so much energy, go to the back of the auditorium where the speakers are. Take care of the sound levels and take  pictures from that angle. No more running!"

They both stiffened, nodding in unison like dolls. "Yes, ma'am," they muttered simultaneously.

The walk to the back of the auditorium was a silent one. The playful chaos had simmered down into a heavy awareness. As they reached the dark corner near the massive black speakers, the vibration of the bass from the soundcheck thrummed through the floorboards.

Reehan adjusted the camera strap around his neck, finally letting the green dupatta slip off his shoulder and handing it back to her. His fingers brushed against her palm as she took it.

"So," Reehan whispered, leaning against the speaker stack so he was level with her ear.

Ishayra took the dupatta and wrapped it firmly around her neck, the vanilla scent from the fabric wafting between them again. She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the dim stage lights. "I know I'm pretty but Click their pictures."

Reehan raised the camera, but instead of pointing it at the stage, he framed her face in the viewfinder for a split second, a secret smile tugging at his lips.

She smacked his hand.

The sun was scorching, beating down on the back of the auditorium where the overflow of students spilled into the open courtyard. For thirty minutes, Ishayra had been dutifully snapping photos of the primary kids stumbling through their dance, but the heat was starting to make the air shimmer.

An idea struck her—a mischievous idea. She wanted a memory of the baigan in his natural habitat. Grinning to herself, she swung the heavy DSLR around, framing Reehan’s face in the lens.

But the joke died in her throat the moment she saw him through the viewfinder.

Reehan wasn't laughing anymore. His eyes were squeezed shut against the glare, and his skin turned  a deep, angry crimson, far more intense than any blush. He looked like he was swaying slightly on his feet.

"Are you okay?" Ishayra asked, her voice dropping the teasing tone instantly as she lowered the camera.

Reehan didn't look up, his gaze fixed on his shoes. "Yeah. It's fine. My skin just burns badly under the sun if I stand too long. Heat sensitivity, I guess."

Ishayra’s eyes widened. She reached out, her hand hovering near his arm. "Oh idiot! Why are we even standing here then? You look like you're about to melt. Let’s go inside right now."

Reehan blinked, trying to focus on her through the haze of the heat. "What about the speaker? The teacher said we have to stay here and monitor the audio levels. If the sound cuts out during the Chief Guest's speech, we're dead."

Ishayra looked at the massive, vibrating black box and then back at Reehan’s pained expression. She didn't hesitate for a single second. She grabbed his wrist, her grip firm and surprisingly cold against his burning skin.

"Oh, hell with the speaker! It’s not that important," she snapped, already pulling him toward the shaded side entrance of the main building. "I’ll stay in detention for a few more days if I have to. I'm not letting you turn into actual baigan bharta out here."

Reehan stumbled after her, too exhausted to argue. As they stepped into the sudden, blissful cool of the stone corridor, he let out a long, shuddering breath. The transition from the scorching sun to the shadows felt like diving into cold water.

Ishayra didn't let go of his wrist. She led him to a bench near the empty chemistry lab and pushed him down.

"Sit. Don't move," she commanded, her face set in a look of fierce protectiveness that Reehan had never seen before. "I’m going to find some cold water. If you try to go back to that speaker, I will personally beat you with chappal."

Reehan leaned his head back against the cool wall, a weak laugh escaping his lips. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," she whispered, her eyes softening as she lingered for a moment, her thumb unconsciously brushing against the pulse point on his wrist.

Ishayra came back a few minutes later, pressing a chilled bottle of water against Reehan’s burning cheek before handing it to him.

"Tum sach mein bhondu ho yaar," she muttered, watching him gulp the water down. "Is this school really that much important to you? Standing out there like a statue while you're literally roasting?"

Reehan wiped his mouth, leaning his head back against the cool stone wall. "Eww, no. It’s not about the school."

"No, it seems that it's more important than you are," she countered, her voice sharp with genuine worry.

Reehan threw his hands up in the air, a helpless look on his face. "Okay, I give up. I just... I don't know how to say 'No' to something once I'm assigned to it. It’s a habit."

Ishayra looked at him, genuinely startled by his admission. She sat down on the bench next to him, her expression turning intense. "Reehan, yeh log tumhare ghar aake tumhe apne haath se paani nahi dete hai, aur na hi apne haath se tumhare bartan dhote hai. They don't do anything for you personally! So it’s just an easy process to say N-o."

Reehan stared at her for a second, then mockingly bowed his head. "Jai Ishayra."

She held her palm out toward him in a blessing gesture. "Sada suhagan raho, beta."

And let out a loud snort, the tension breaking instantly.

"You talk so differently in real life than in text," Reehan said, looking at her with a lopsided smile.

Ishayra’s laughter faded. She blinked, looking confused. "Yeah, true... but how do you know that?"

Reehan rolled his eyes. "Because we texted? Duh."

"What a joke, haha," she said, shaking her head as if he’d said something ridiculous.

"Joke?" Reehan’s smile faltered.

"Of course it's a joke, because we never texted each other," she said firmly.

Reehan shifted on the bench, looking at her with genuine concern now. "Ishayra, don't mind, but do you have bhulne ki bimari? Like, short-term memory loss?"

"I’m fine! But do you have something wrong with your head? Because I really never texted you," she shot back, her voice rising in defensive confusion.

"Kuch bhi!" Reehan exclaimed.

Ishayra folded her arms across her chest in mockery, her eyes narrowing. "Acha, we texted. Kab?"

"Kal," he replied instantly.

Ishayra stared at him for a long second, her heart doing a weird little jump as she prayed this wasn't actually she was thinking. "Kahaan?"

"On Instagram, of course!" Reehan said, pulling his phone out to prove it.

The moment the words left his mouth, Ishayra started laughing. A hysterical, maniacal cackle that echoed through the empty hallway. She clutched her stomach, tears actualy leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Reehan..." she wheezed, trying to point at him but failing because she was shaking too hard. "Oh my god... Reehan... you... you actually..."

Reehan sat there, clutching the water bottle, looking completely baffled as she continued to lose her mind.

"What? Why are you laughing like that? I have the screenshots!"

Ishayra was still gasping for air, clutching her stomach as she slid down the bench to sit right beside him. Reehan just stared at her, his face a mixture of confusion and growing dread.

"Kyaaaa?" he demanded, his voice cracking slightly. "Why are you laughing like I just told you the earth is flat?"

Ishayra wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. "Kabhi socha nahi tha tumhare liye itna sorry feel karungi, but hahahah!"

She took a deep breath, finally calming down enough to look him in the eye. "Reehan, listen to me carefully. Actually, I don't have any Instagram ID."

Reehan’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. The realization hit him like a physical weight. He slowly raised his hands, covering his entire face with his palms as a low groan escaped his throat.

"Aahana, Mahira, and Kabir made a fake ID for me," Ishayra explained, her voice still trembling with suppressed giggles. "They post my pictures, and people think it's me, but they always end up talking to one of them instead. It's like their favorite hobby."

"No wayyyyyy," Reehan muffled into his hands, his voice sounding small and defeated. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"Mujhe second-hand embarrassment ho gayi!" Ishayra teased, leaning in and patting his shoulder in a fake-consoling way. "It’s okay, Reehan. It happens to the best of us."

Reehan didn't move. He kept his face buried in his hands, He hadn't been flirting with her but  he’d been flirting with his  friends.

"Par tum un logon se aankhein kaise milaoge?" Ishayra continued, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Kabir is literally in your house every day."

Reehan finally peeked through his fingers, his face so red it looked like he’d been back out in the sun for another three hours.

"I'm traumatized," he whispered, horrified.

Ishayra lost it again, her head falling onto his shoulder as she howled with laughter. "They probably have a group chat, Reehan! They probably have shared stickers of your convo!"

"Shut up," he groaned, though a tiny, reluctant smile started to break through his embarrassment. "This is your fault for being a dadi amma and not having an app like a normal teenager.”

"Acha batao toh kya baat kari thi?" Ishayra asked, her eyes sparkling with a dangerous level of curiosity as she leaned toward him.

Reehan straightened up, his face still flushed. "Not at all. Never. I am taking those secrets to my grave."

"Arey, mujhe samajh ke hi toh ki thi! Now tell meeeee!!" she insisted, tugging at the edge of his violet sleeve.

"No," Reehan said firmly, though his voice lacked any real authority.

Ishayra gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. "Haww! Kyun? Itni gandi gandi baatein kari?"

"Chi! Nahi yaawr," Reehan defended, looking genuinely scandalized. "Main ache ghar ka ladka hun, okay? My flirting is... sophisticated."

Ishayra laughed. "Ji, Mishra ji. Humne dekh li aapki sophistication."

Reehan sighed, a small, defeated smile playing on his lips. "Actually, bataane layak nahi hai. I thought I was being smooth. It turns out I was just being a joker for Kabir’s entertainment."

Ishayra stood up, dusting off her green kurti, and Reehan stood up with her. The cool air of the hallway had done its job he looked much more like a human and less like a sun-dried tomato now.

"I will take the remaining pictures," Ishayra said, taking the heavy DSLR from his hands. "But you sit here, okayy? No more sun for the 'baigan' today."

Reehan nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment that the conversation was ending. She turned around to head back toward the auditorium, but then she stopped.

"Ek second," she murmured.

She hurried off toward the nearby staff room, returning a moment later with a black permanent marker she’d managed to scavenge. She walked back to him, stopping when there were only inches left between them. Reehan’s breath hitched. He could smell the faint, sweet scent of her vanilla perfume again, mixed with the sharp scent of the marker.

He felt like he’d lost the ability to breathe as she reached out. She looked up into his eyes for a split second, a small, knowing chuckle escaping her lips. Then, she reached for the white silk scarf he had wrapped loosely around his neck.

She pulled the fabric taut, smoothing it out exactly over the left side of his chest—right where his heart was currently drumming a violent, frantic rhythm against his ribs. It was so loud he was certain she could hear it.

Ishayra leaned in, her forehead almost touching his chin as she began to write. Reehan stood perfectly still, his hands hovering at his sides, afraid that if he moved, he’d break the spell. He felt the slight pressure of the pen moving against his chest, a slow, deliberate scribbling.

After a long moment, she stepped back, capping the pen with a satisfying click. She looked at her handiwork and smiled, a mischievous yet soft expression.

"Sorry for ruining your dupatta and your—"

Before she could even finish the sentence, Reehan’s filter failed him completely. "And my heart?"

Ishayra froze for a heartbeat, then she poked his chest right where she’d been writing. "Hatt, bhondu!! I was going to say ruining your future, because your matashri will see this scarf someday, no? Good luck explaining that to her."

She let out a final, teasing laugh and turned away, heading back toward the noise of the program without looking back.

Reehan stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at her retreating figure until she vanished around the corner. He slowly looked down at his chest, pulling the white fabric of the scarf up so he could see it.

In neat, bold numbers, she had scribbled her phone number right over his heartbeat. Underneath the digits, in tiny letters, she has added—

For real this time. Just us.

🧚🏻