Beneath His Obsession
When Sparks Met Fire
Location: Chandigarh, India — One of Asia’s Top Universities
The beginning of something unexpected.
She arrived with a heart full of dreams and a suitcase full of books. The golden sun kissed the polished grounds of the most prestigious university in India—Chandigarh's crown jewel.
She stood there, a vision of light.
A white top, tucked neatly into blue bootcut jeans. Her long dark hair fell like soft waves over her shoulders. On her wrist, a simple black watch ticked—sharp against the softness she radiated. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and her smile? It could melt the worst kind of day.
Her name was Siyara Banerjee.
From Bengal. Innocent by heart, brilliant by mind. A topper. A dreamer. Confident in class, but shy with strangers. The kind of girl who said thank you to waiters and still believed in love stories.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She clutched her folder, looking around, slightly lost but still smiling—like everything was a new adventure.*
He was laughing with his friends near the bike stand—dark shades pushed up into his hair, one hand casually resting on his bike. Yuvraj Singh Rathore. The name echoed in college gossip circles like a legacy. Rich, ruthless, ridiculously good-looking. Girls called him the “prince of Banaras.” Guys called him trouble.
He had kissed too many lips. Broken too many hearts. And believed no one could surprise him anymore.
No loud makeup. No attention-seeking drama. Just this girl, looking around with wide eyes and a hopeful smile like she belonged to a softer world.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(to himself):
“She looks… untouched by all this. Like a poem that hasn’t been read yet.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
Siyara (to herself, giggling slightly):
“Wow… everyone’s so stylish here. And that guy looks like a film star(*Noticed Yuvansh*). Focus, Siyara. You’re here to study!”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He walked toward her, intrigued.
Not because she looked like the others.
But because she didn’t.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(smirking softly):
“New face. Lost?”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(cheerfully):
“A little. But I have a map in my bag. I will figure it out."
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He blinked. That wasn’t the answer he expected.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“You’re not from here.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(beaming):
“Nope! I’m from Bengal. I’m Siyara. Nice to meet you, Mister…?”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“Yuvraj Singh Rathore.”
She extended her hand without hesitation. He shook it. Soft fingers. Warm heart.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Curiosity.*
And just like that…
The player met purity.
The past met a future he never saw coming.
The Seat Beside Her
Setting: First Lecture Hall — Department of Computer Science
The room hummed with nervous energy. New faces, whispered introductions, the awkward clatter of chairs being dragged. Students were finding their places, shuffling in with books, laptops, and dreams.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She sat near the window, sunlight hitting her hair just right. Siyara Banerjee—fresh-faced and bright-eyed, her white top still crisp, her black watch ticking quietly as she lined up her pens in perfect order. Her notes already had titles. Her smile was soft, natural, effortless.*
*She was excited for her first class. Eager. Unaware that the seat beside her was about to become her universe.*
*Yuvraj (walking in with slow confidence):
Black shirt. Rolled sleeves. A sleepy smirk playing on his lips as if he didn’t need to impress anyone—yet somehow, he did. A buzz followed him, subtle and constant, like the sound of a coming storm.*
Boy (whispering):
“That’s Yuvraj Rathore. Heard he topped in sports and parties back home.”
Girl:
“I heard he never dates the same girl twice.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He scanned the room lazily, like he was searching for something he didn’t know he was missing—until his gaze landed on her.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
There she was again.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(thinking):
“That girl from earlier... what’s she doing in my class?”
He walked past the other empty seats and stopped right beside her.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(smirking):
“This seat taken?”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(smiling):
“Nope. But it comes with class notes and high expectations.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“High expectations? Good thing I’m a fast learner.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He dropped into the chair, leaning back with that signature arrogance while she sat up straight, focused, pen in hand.*
As the professor entered, students scrambled to settle.
Professor:
“Alright, welcome to your first semester of hell—I mean, Computer Science. Roll numbers don’t matter. Who knows the difference between a compiler and an interpreter?”
Until a soft voice answered clearly from the second row.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
“A compiler translates the entire code at once, while an interpreter does it line-by-line.”
Heads turned.
Yuvraj raised a brow, impressed.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(leaning closer, low voice):
“Looks like I chose the right seat.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(grinning without looking at him):
“Let’s see if you can keep up.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(smirks):
“Don’t worry, Siyara. I always finish… top of the class.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(light laugh):
“Let’s hope you’re not all talk, Mr. Rathore.”
He looked at her, amused and a little thrown off. She didn’t flirt—she challenged. And that? That was something new.
And he didn’t know it yet…
But this girl was going to become the exam his heart would fail a hundred times over.
The Glimpse Through Her Balcony
Setting: Siyara’s Flat, Early Evening | Side Street Outside College
The auto rattled to a stop as the golden hour bathed the streets of Chandigarh in a soft glow. Siyara stepped out, adjusting the dupatta slung around her neck. A paper bag full of groceries hung from her arm, and her black watch reflected a little beam of sunlight as she walked up the steps toward her building.
Their small 1BHK flat wasn’t fancy, but it was home—full of warmth, love, and the comforting smell of her maa’s cooking.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She unlocked the door, slipped off her shoes, and called out cheerfully.*
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
“Maa! I got the turmeric you needed!”
Paromita Banarjee.FL MOM.
(from the kitchen)“Good girl! Wash up and keep the rice ready. I’ll be done with the curry in ten!”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Smiling, she slipped into her routine, tying up her hair, organizing the groceries, humming a Rabindra Sangeet under her breath.*
Aarush Banarjee.FL Elder Brother.
(from the living room):
“You took ages! I was about to eat the couch cushions.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(laughing):
“You survive on maggi and memes. Don’t pretend you care about food.”
Aarush Banarjee.FL Elder Brother.
*He gave her a dramatic eye-roll, lounging on the sofa with his mech books spread out.*
Aarush Banarjee.FL Elder Brother.
“One day I’ll be a millionaire engineer and replace all your coffee with green tea.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(mock horror):
“Blasphemy!”
Later, in her favorite oversized tee and cotton pants, she stepped onto the small balcony with a cup of steaming black coffee in hand. The wind played with her hair as she closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the peace.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“You live here?”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Her eyes snapped open.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*He was standing below—beside his bike, black shirt unbuttoned at the top, helmet under his arm, an amused expression on his face like fate had thrown him the best surprise of the day.*
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(startled):
“Yuvraj?! What are you doing here?”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(grinning):
“Calm down. I wasn’t following you. I have a friend nearby. But turns out, luck parked me right under your balcony.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(raising an eyebrow):
“Or maybe your luck’s just nosy.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(laughing):
“Could be. But hey, seeing you in that pink tee, sipping black coffee like a boss—it’s kinda cute.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(blushing slightly):
“This is my chill outfit. Not for judgment.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“Who said I’m judging? I kinda like the chill version better.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She looked away, hiding a soft smile behind her cup.*
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
“You should head back before someone thinks you’re here to cause trouble.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(with a smirk):
“Too late for that. I already am trouble… just yours, specifically.”
Before she could respond, he put his helmet on and started his bike.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(looking up):
“Bye, Miss Banerjee. I’ll try not to get lost again… but no promises.”
He rode off, and Siyara stood still, staring at the empty street below.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt something stir quietly inside her chest—like maybe trouble wasn’t always a bad thing.
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