Prologue : Love in Theory

In theory, life was simple.

Aanya Sharma lived by formulas and flowcharts. Her world was one of sharp pencil lines, hospital rotations, and the quiet hum of lab instruments. She wasn’t the kind of girl to believe in grand love stories or poetic fate. To her, the heart was a muscle, not a metaphor.

Until him.

Rudra Malhotra walked into her life like a contradiction she couldn’t solve. Captain of the football team, late to every class, and still topping the popularity charts like a viral algorithm. He wasn’t her type — if she even had one. But there was something about the way he wore chaos like a crown, how he smiled like he had nothing to lose, and how he saw her… really saw her, beneath the grades and the stethoscope dreams.

She met him during a biology practical — a pairing assigned purely by chance, or perhaps, as fate would later argue, by design. He was all fidget and impatience, unable to sit still through microscope slides and cellular diagrams. She, of course, was irritated. At first.

“Can I copy your notes?”

“Do you even know what meiosis means?”

“Nope. But I know your handwriting is cute.”

He was impossible. But impossibly charming.

They started with arguments that grew into teasing, shared coffee breaks, and stolen glances in the library. Her notes began carrying doodles of tiny footballs. His water bottle had a quote from Marie Curie stuck on it — badly spelled, but clearly chosen for her. Neither knew what this was becoming. They just knew it was growing — slowly, sweetly, dangerously.

But love, like science, is never just theory.

Behind them, shadows gathered — of rival siblings who couldn’t stand each other, of friendships masked as betrayals, and families who expected perfection or nothing at all. Dev, Rudra’s best friend and Aanya’s academic rival, began to notice the closeness. Kiara, Aanya’s so-called friend, grew distant and cold, hiding jealousy behind smiles.

And then there was Aryan — Aanya’s cousin, just returned from London. A genius in cardiology, a professor before thirty, and hopelessly in love with her since forever. He knew what Rudra didn’t: that love, when left unspoken, turns into longing. He wasn’t going to let it stay unspoken much longer.

It was all getting complicated.

For now, though, under dim classroom lights and between unfinished assignments, Aanya and Rudra existed in their own quiet experiment. Neither dared to call it love. Neither knew how much it would cost them.

But every equation has a breaking point.

Every heartbeat, a pattern.

And some stories… aren’t meant to follow the syllabus.

Here's some sweet and flirty line just for my cute little butterfly and some warnings :-

Warning: This story may increase your heart rate, cause butterflies, and make you believe in love... again.

"Turn the page — I dare you not to fall a little in love."

"One girl. One golden boy. One forbidden syllabus of love."

"He was the variable she didn’t plan for… but now her heart skips a beat every time he smiles."

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