Morning has always been mine. Early mornings feel like the world hasn’t fully woken up yet. There are no loud noises, just the soft whispers of birds, and the sun slowly rising above the horizon. I like knowing what I have to do during the day—the notes I need to revise. It makes me feel one step closer to everything I’ve worked for.
Westbridge University had always been my dream. I had spent numerous sleepless nights, surviving on countless cups of black coffee just to get here. And it wasn’t just about getting into this university—I had worked just as hard to secure my dream internship at Aransh Industries. Every step I had taken, every sacrifice I had made, was leading me somewhere I had always wanted to be. And now that I was here, I was determined to cherish every minute of it. I was never someone born with a silver spoon; everything in my life had to be earned.
I slipped into a baby pink short kurti, the soft fabric brushing lightly against my skin, pairing it with my usual baggy jeans—comfort with just the right hint of quiet confidence. A pair of oxidised earrings completed the look, simple yet noticeable, if anyone cared to. Flats, as always. I preferred ease over anything loud or attention-seeking.
And then, of course, there was my tote bag—my constant. Neatly tucked inside were my books and my day planner, the one thing I never stepped out without. Every hour of my day was mapped, every task accounted for. Some people called it obsessive; I called it control. In a world that felt unpredictable, planning every minute was the only way I knew how to stay steady… even if, deep down, I sometimes wondered how long I could keep everything perfectly in place.
I stepped into the university quietly, headphones on, eyes lowered. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone. As I climbed the stairs, someone covered my eyes with their hands—and I immediately knew who it was.
“Ishu, I know it’s you. You do this every day,” I said, pulling her hands away and turning toward her.
“Uff, Anu, you jus—” she was cut off as a group of girls rushed toward the main entrance.
We both knew what that meant.
Reyansh Malhotra and his friends were back on campus.
He was my senior, and yes, he looked good—but that’s not everything, right? He got everything he wanted and walked away from every consequence, all thanks to his bank account. And unfortunately, out of all the boys in the world, my best friend had chosen to have a secret crush on his best friend, Vihaan Singhania.
So before she could say anything else, I dragged her toward our respective classes.
I stepped into my English class and took my usual seat—the corner seat in the second row. I didn’t have any friends here, so I slipped into my routine: music in my ears, pen in hand, writing poetry. It was something that belonged only to me.
As I bent my head down and continued writing, I felt the weight of someone’s gaze on me. I didn’t look up, too lost in my own world—but the feeling didn’t fade. It lingered, steady and unwavering, keeping me strangely aware.
After a while, our professor, Mr. Mehra, walked in and began the lecture. I focused, taking notes, grounding myself in something familiar. When the class ended, I quickly packed my bag.
“Ananya,” Mr. Mehra called.
I turned—and froze.
How was he here?
The bad boy senior. The one everyone whispered about in corridors. The one who was never supposed to be anywhere near my world—my classroom.
And yet, there he was, sitting like he belonged. Like he always had.
For a second, I thought I was mistaken.
What is he doing here?
My thoughts stumbled over each other as I stared a second too long.
And then I realized—
He wasn’t just there.
He was looking.
At me.
My breath hitched—barely noticeable, but enough for me to feel it. His gaze wasn’t obvious, but it lingered in a way that made my chest tighten. Like he had been watching for a while. Like I had just stepped into a moment that had already begun without me.
The moment broke when Mr. Mehra spoke again, telling me I would be tutoring Reyansh since he had a backlog in English.
If I was surprised, that would be an understatement.
Reyansh Malhotra… had a backlog.
I didn’t let it show.
“Okay, sir. I’ll do it,” I replied, my voice steady despite everything.
With that, I turned and walked out, resisting the urge to look back. Even then, I could still feel it—
the weight of his gaze lingering behind me.
I had no idea that saying yes to this would change everything....
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