Chapter 1: The Bell, The Book, and the Boy

The morning air smelt faintly of fresh paint and chalk dust—a sign of shuffled classes, new seating plans, and the start of 12th grade. For most, it was a day of fresh beginnings. For Shweta Rathi, it felt more like being dragged back into a world she had been running from for two whole years.

She pushed open the door to Class XII-B, the smell of jasmine from the school's garden trailing behind her. As usual, she made her way to the window seat—middle row, third bench. It had the perfect angle to sneak glances at the sky while dozing off and pretending to pay attention.

She dropped her bag, plopped down with a sigh, and leaned her head against her hand. The chatter in the room barely registered. New faces. Some old. And somewhere in the back of her mind, an echo of names she hadn’t spoken in a long time—Siddharth. Mohini. Ananya.

But today was about surviving, not remembering.

The bell rang, slicing through the haze of her daydream. Startled, she jolted awake. Her notebook slipped off her lap, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

“Ugh,” she muttered, bending down to retrieve it.

But another hand reached for it at the same time. A hand—clean, fair, veined like art carved into skin. Masculine. Steady.

“Here you go,” said a voice. Warm. Slightly amused. That kind of voice that makes your stomach flip without warning.

Shweta looked up.

The first thing she saw was light. Not the sun. Him.

Tousled brown hair that looked like it belonged in shampoo ads. Deep brown eyes that seemed to hold more than a few secrets. There was something... royal about him. Maybe it was the way he smiled—like he knew exactly how much effect he had on people.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

“Uh—thanks,” she managed.

“You must be really sleepy, huh?” he said, handing her the notebook.

“Oh, yeah. Totally,” she laughed awkwardly. “I was just… excited about school.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Excited enough to fall asleep in class? That’s a new one.”

Shweta shrugged. “My sleeping schedule is a mess right now. Summer break hangover.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I can definitely see that.”

There was a small pause. Not awkward. Comfortable. Like a leaf floating on calm water.

“I’m Arush, by the way. Arush Oberoi.”

Shweta blinked again. Even his name sparkled like it was plucked straight from a movie script.

“Shweta,” she said. “Shweta Rathi.”

“Nice to meet you, Shweta Rathi.” He smiled. “I guess I’ll be your seat partner for the year.”

Oh no. No. Way.

God had a twisted sense of humor. After two years of avoiding boys, fate decided to put this guy next to her? She laughed under her breath.

“What’s funny?” Arush asked, amused.

“Nothing, just… your name. It sounds like the lead in a TV drama. You know—Arush Oberoi, heir to the Oberoi empire,” she teased.

He grinned. “Guilty as charged. Should I start practicing my slow-motion entries?”

She smiled despite herself. It felt strange—easy—but strange. She hadn’t talked like this to a guy in ages. Not since…

Not since Siddharth.

And just as the thought crossed her mind, the classroom door creaked open. A figure stepped in. Taller. Broader. Familiar in a way that twisted her stomach.

Siddharth.

His eyes scanned the room briefly, landing on her like a silent storm. Time paused. Her heart jumped—and not the good kind. He looked different now. Older. Colder.

Their eyes met.

And just like that, the warmth of Arush’s smile vanished into a sudden chill.

To be continued...

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