episode 1

The train screeched to a halt at New Delhi Railway Station, its long body groaning as though it carried the weight of every dream onboard. Among the passengers who spilled out onto the crowded platform was Saanvi Mishra, clutching a worn leather bag and a suitcase that looked almost too heavy for her slender arms.

She paused for a moment, adjusting her dupatta over her shoulder. The air smelled of diesel, fried pakoras from a nearby stall, and something faintly metallic that always lingered in big cities. Saanvi had grown up in the quiet green fields of Kandhamal, where mornings began with temple bells and the sound of cows mooing. Delhi was a world apart — noisy, restless, impatient.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: “Remember who you are, Saanvi. You are a Mishra. Don’t let the city change you.”

Her mother had cried quietly when she boarded the train. Studying law was not the usual path for girls in her village, but Saanvi’s mind had always been sharper than her needlework. She had won scholarships, topped exams, and finally convinced her family to let her chase her dream.

Dragging her suitcase through the sea of strangers, Saanvi whispered to herself, “This is it. My new life.”

Across the city, in a penthouse wrapped in glass and luxury, Yogesh Kapoor was throwing a script across the room. The golden boy of Bollywood, the face on every billboard, the man whose smile sold dreams — sat with his jaw clenched.

“Another lawsuit?” he snapped at his manager, who flinched.

“It’s not that simple, Yogesh. The tabloids are saying you broke contract with the director. If we don’t handle this legally, it could damage your career.”

Yogesh leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. Cameras loved him, but the law was a world he didn’t understand. His fame had always protected him, until now.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Get me the best lawyer.”

But his manager shook his head. “No lawyer can save your reputation alone. You need to learn how to protect yourself. Enroll in that legal studies program I told you about. Quietly. No publicity. It’ll help your image… and your case.”

Yogesh laughed bitterly. “Me? In a college classroom? That’s the worst script I’ve ever heard.”

But as the night stretched on, with city lights flickering against the glass, he realized he had no choice.

And so, while Saanvi Mishra was unpacking her books in a modest hostel room, rehearsing how she would introduce herself to her new classmates…

Yogesh Kapoor was preparing to step into the same college — not as a superstar, but as just another name on the admission list.

Neither knew that their paths were about to cross.

And when they did, nothing would ever be the same again.

The hostel room smelled faintly of fresh paint and dampness. Saanvi sat on the narrow iron bed, her fingers tracing the embroidered edge of the bedsheet her mother had packed for her. Outside the window, the honking of autos and the chatter of street vendors filled the air — a constant reminder that Delhi never slept.

She placed her law books one by one on the small wooden desk, stacking them neatly as though order could calm the storm of nervousness inside her. On the wall hung a faded notice board pinned with scribbled reminders left behind by the previous occupant. Someone had written in bold letters:

“Dream big, or don’t bother dreaming at all.”

Saanvi smiled faintly. Yes, that’s why I’m here.

That night, sleep came late. She lay awake, rehearsing her introduction: “Hello, I am Saanvi Mishra, from Kandhamal, Odisha. I am here to study law.” She whispered it into the darkness again and again, until her eyelids finally grew heavy.

The next morning, the campus buzzed like a beehive. Students hurried across stone pathways, some with coffee cups, some with earphones, some laughing in groups that already looked like old friends.

Saanvi walked carefully, clutching her notebook, her eyes wide at the towering library building with glass windows that gleamed in the sun. For her, every corner of this college was a cathedral — a sacred place where her future would be carved.

She found her classroom, slipped quietly into a bench at the side, and tried to disappear into the background.

Elsewhere, a black SUV pulled up outside the same campus. Sunglasses on, cap pulled low, Yogesh Kapoor stepped out. For once, there were no paparazzi, no screaming fans. Just students rushing past him, too absorbed in their own world to notice.

For the first time in years, he felt… invisible.

He adjusted his backpack — something he had not worn since high school — and muttered under his breath, “This is ridiculous.” His manager’s voice echoed in his ear: “Lay low. Learn. Don’t attract attention.”

The irony wasn’t lost on him. The man who couldn’t walk through an airport without a crowd was now just another student with a name on a list.

When he entered the building, he glanced at the rows of students already seated. He didn’t recognize their faces, and they didn’t recognize his. The relief was almost overwhelming.

Saanvi, seated with her eyes fixed on her notebook, didn’t look up when the tall figure in a simple hoodie walked past her to the back row. She was too nervous, too busy whispering her introduction under her breath again.

And just like that, in a quiet classroom where no one noticed, their worlds finally aligned under the same roof.

The professor entered, a tall man with silver hair and an old-fashioned briefcase. His voice was calm but commanding as he introduced himself and began to talk about the journey of studying law — about patience, discipline, and courage.

Saanvi listened intently, her pen flying across the page. Every word felt precious, like a key that could unlock the doors of her future. She was used to hard work, to silence, to listening carefully. Her seat at the edge of the classroom suited her perfectly — she could see everyone, yet remain unnoticed.

From the back row, however, Yogesh leaned lazily against his chair, one hand scribbling nonsense on the margin of his notebook. The words of the professor floated past him like background noise. He wasn’t here for inspiration or passion; he was here because he had to be.

Still, his sharp eyes noticed things others ignored: the girl in the front row correcting the professor’s quotation from memory, the boy yawning openly, the group of students already whispering like old friends. And then his gaze fell, for the briefest moment, on a girl seated near the window, her head bent low as she wrote furiously, as though the world depended on it.

Yogesh frowned, quickly looking away. Why do I even care?

When the class ended, the room erupted in chatter. Students clustered in groups, exchanging names, numbers, and laughter. Saanvi hesitated, clutching her notebook to her chest. Making friends had never been her strength; books were simpler companions.

But as she stood, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass window — nervous eyes, hopeful smile, a dupatta that kept slipping from her shoulder. She straightened her back, whispering to herself, “One step at a time.”

At the same moment, Yogesh slid his cap back on and slipped out of the room before anyone could stop him. He had learned the art of disappearing fast — avoiding conversations, avoiding recognition. Yet, for the first time, there was an odd ache in him. The classroom, with all its noise and laughter, felt strangely… normal. Something he had long forgotten.

That evening, in two different corners of the city, they reflected on their first day.

In her tiny hostel room, Saanvi wrote in her diary:

“The city is overwhelming, but I will not be afraid. Today was the first step of many. One day, I will stand tall in a courtroom, and maybe, just maybe, my parents will look at me with pride beyond measure.”

In his silent penthouse, Yogesh tossed his bag aside and stared at the city lights. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about film shoots, scripts, or cameras. Instead, he thought about the unfamiliar feeling of sitting among people who didn’t know him — people who treated him like he was no one special.

And oddly enough, that thought stayed with him far longer than he expected.

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