_______________________________

[15 April: Me? Staring at her?

THE YUG MALLICK? Staring at a rock would be much better.]

______________________________

Nishchit's pov

I sat beside Ira and Nishi on the window seat, half-listening, half-scrolling through my phone while the two of them discussed something from the mysterious realm of girl talk.

Ira, as usual, wasn’t saying much—just quietly absorbing every word Nishi threw at her. Silence had become her default setting, and honestly, it said more about her past than anything else.

I’d never imagined my pishi—my own bua—could be like that.

Like someone who’d slowly tighten the walls around a child until she forgot there even existed an outside world.

Even now… Ira has only been with us for a year.

And a year is nothing.

A year can’t fix the kind of wounds she walked in with.

I looked at her—listening, nodding, pretending everything was fine.

Some instinct inside me kicked in.

My hand reached up before I could think.

She turned to look, and before she could flinch away, I pinched her cheeks.

Rosogolla.

Ekdum fresh waale.

Garam garam.

Perfect softness.

I swayed her cheeks left and right, ignoring the way she glared at me like I was committing crimes against humanity.

She’s younger than us—three months or something—but she calls me bhaiya and Nishi didi, and that alone is enough for us to treat her like a child we have to protect.

Plus, she is a cutie.

And pishi can go to hell if she ever tries to steal even one inch of this child’s smile—

A smile I haven’t even fully seen yet.

“Bhaiya… can you please stop—” Ira finally muttered, trying to sound stern but failing adorably.

“Nope.”

I pinched harder.

Instant karma arrived in the shape of my sister.

Nishi slapped my hand away.

“Bolchhe na, koro na! Why are you still doing that?” She scolded me, pulling Ira’s face gently toward her. “Look at her cheeks, they’re completely red now.”

(She said, to stop!)

She soothed Ira’s cheeks while glaring at me like I was the villain in Ira’s healing journey.

And… maybe I deserved it.

But will I stop?

Never.

I stuck my tongue out at Tanishi like the mature, responsible elder brother I am, and reached out again to pinch her already-red cheeks—

“Nishchit. Behave.”

My mother didn’t raise her voice, but that tone was enough.

I dropped my hand instantly and sat straight like a soldier caught slacking off.

This time Nishi turned towards me, stuck her tongue out in victory, and went back to pampering Ira’s poor cheeks as if she was healing the wounds of war.

“Nishchit, I think I have good news for you.” Dad said from the driver’s seat, slowing the car.

“Yug is waiting for you outs—”

I didn’t even let him finish.

Door khola, seatbelt uda, I flew out of the car like I had been shot out of a cannon.

I could hear my mother shouting my name behind me, but honestly… priorities.

Friends before sanity.

“YUGHESHWAR BHAI!!!” I waved dramatically like a politician greeting his public.

“CHITTI!!!” Yug copied me with the same stupidity. “Happy New Year!” he shouted.

“Happy New year nahi bolte usse, gadhe!” I smacked his arm. “Usse shubh… shubho… shub—”

Even I forgot the correct word.

“Shubho Noboborsho, padhe-likhe gawaaro.” Yug’s mother corrected us as she stepped out of their car with the puja thali.

She looked like the perfect Bengali poster woman—pastel off-white saree, red border, and elegance for days.

“Tum dono toh Bengali hi bhi?” she said, immediately grabbing my hair and ruffling it like she always did.

“Aunty ji— please! Bohot time laga ke set kiye tha!” I escaped her assault, traumatised.

“Haan haan, ab toh aunty bhi buri lagegi” she teased. “Bachpan mein toh aunty aunty karke kaise peeche bhagta tha.”

Yug snorted.

I turned to him slowly.

“What are you laughing at?”

He took one cautious step back.

“Wait, let me fix your hair too,” I threatened, lunging at him.

“NO—”

He ran.

I ran behind him.

We may be seventeen.

But the world can say what it wants—

We’re always going to be kids, at least with each other.

Tanishi's pov

Jangli jaanwar.

Yes, that is the perfect description.

The longer they stay away from each other, the calmer they act.

The moment they’re in a fifty-metre radius?

Bas.

Madness unleashed.

“Nishu, go and grab that good-for-nothing brother by his hair and drag him here,” Ma said, stepping out of our car.

She was joking.

(I hope.)

“Nisha!” Yug’s mother walked towards us, and both the ladies hugged each other like they hadn’t met in five years—even though they literally met last week.

“Tanishi, you look soooo beautiful,” she said, eyeing my kurti and earrings like a proud auntie.

I flashed a grin. “Aunty, you’re looking pretty too!”

Just then, Ira slipped out of the car and came to stand beside me.

Yug’s mother blinked. Blinked again. And then—

“Oh?” she said, pleasantly surprised.

“So you are Ira?”

She cupped Ira’s face instantly, squishing her cheeks like they were national property.

Poor girl.

At this point, she needs armour—full metal armour—on her cheeks.

“Yug talks so much about you,” aunty continued, still fondling her face.

“I actually thought you were a boy! But look at you… ki mishti dekhte! So sweet-looking!”

Ira stood there stiffly, cheeks pulled into a forced smile, eyes screaming for help.

And I—

well, I just stood there, shaking my head.

Welcome to our circus, Ira.

There is no escape.

She finally let go of Ira’s already-swollen cheeks.

“Yug doesn’t disturb you, right?” she asked, casually draping her arm around Ira’s shoulder and steering her towards the temple stairs like she was escorting a VIP guest.

Ma, Papa and I followed behind.

But my eyes were busy scanning the place for something else.

And there they were—

the bunch of tiny kids running around the little park beside the temple, shrieking, laughing, fighting over a broken bat.

A smile climbed onto my face before I could stop it.

I looked at Ma with my best pleading expression.

“After the pooja, Tanu,” she said immediately.

Of course she knew.

I had to visit those kids whenever I came around.

Inside the temple, Yug and Nishchit were already taking pictures for the thousandth time.

Same temple, same pose, same stupid smiles.

Some traditions truly never die.

“Tanishi!”

Yug yelled suddenly, waving his hand like a traffic police.

“Tuio aayi! Fast!” (You come too! Fast!)

I grabbed Ira’s hand—she was standing there like someone who accidentally joined the wrong family—and pulled her along.

“But… I don’t like getting my pictures clicked—” she protested weakly.

Too late.

Yug had already swooped in, grabbed her other hand, and together we dragged her into position like she was being recruited for a photoshoot she never signed up for.

“It’s okay,” Yug said, fixing her hair like a proud stylist. (A/n- bro hesitation?)

“Side mein khade hi toh hona hai, itna bhi kya sharmana.”

Poor Ira looked like she was being prepared for a punishment instead of a picture.

Dada clicked a few selfies, barely giving us time to breathe between shots.

Just then, Yug’s mother walked toward us with the confidence of someone who had declared herself the official photographer of every family event.

“Let me click your pictures—give me the phone,” she said, holding out her hand expectantly.

Author’s POV

Nishchit immediately handed over his phone, and hurried back to stand beside Tanishi as Rhea (Yug's mother) positioned herself like a seasoned director.

She lifted the phone, adjusted the angle, stepped back a little, squinted—finding that one perfect frame that would settle into memory before anyone realized its weight.

The four of them stood together—shoulders touching, smiles half-formed, sunlight spilling over the temple steps.

A moment so ordinary it almost went unnoticed.

A moment that would later become the first picture Yug would paste in his diary under a date circled twice.

Rhea clicked.

Then another one.

And one more—just to be safe.

She lowered the phone and checked the picture… and a slow, knowing smile warmed her face.

Because in that captured moment—

for the first time ever—

Yug wasn’t looking at the camera.

His gaze was tilted slightly to the side, toward the girl standing beside him.

Toward Ira.

And on his lips, the ghost of a smile—uncontrolled, unguarded—lingered like he didn’t even know he was smiling.

A beginning that only a mother would notice first.

Rhea smiled down at the picture, and for a heartbeat, her expression softened into something almost secret.

Just like her—her son seemed to have found his person too.

In high school, the same place where she met Yug's father.

“Ma, how’s the picture?” Yug called out from a distance.

“It’s good,” she replied, tucking the warmth in her voice away before he could hear it.

Then she lifted the phone again.

“Let me click more."

After the enthusiastic mini photo shoot, everyone gathered for the pooja.

The parents stood at the front, doing the aarti, while the kids lined up behind them—hands joined, heads bowed, eyes closed like well-trained students on annual day.

Well… except one.

Yug peeked—because of course he did—and found Ira standing with her hands at her sides, staring straight ahead as if she wasn’t in a temple but in an empty classroom during free period.

He leaned sideways, lowering his head to match her height.

“Why are you not praying?” he whispered.

She gave him the fastest, driest glance known to humanity.

“I am an atheist.”

“Hain?” Yug choked out, as if she’d declared she was secretly a lizard.

Ira lifted a brow, unimpressed.

“Why? Girls can’t be atheists?”

“Uhh—I mean—no—haan—matlab—”

For the first time in his seventeen years of existence, Yug Mallick was stammering.

Panic lived rent-free in his eyes.

“All the girls I’ve ever seen… you know… they are… uh…”

He snapped his fingers softly, trying to grab the right word out of thin air.

“Faithful to God! Yes—that one!”

Ira’s glare sharpened enough to slice his overconfidence into thin wafers.

“What kind of presumption is that?”

She rolled her eyes and looked away.

And just like that—

a strange déjà vu wrapped itself around Yug.

A few days The junior head girl also did that.

Am I that annoying?

He thought.

Arnav’s POV

(In his house)

Boring Sunday.

Boring morning.

Boring life.

I stared at the physics book in front of me.

It stared back at me.

I glared at it.

It glared back harder.

Ughhhh.

Why is physics sooooo difficult??

What did newton had to sit under some stupid apple tree? Did he even know about something called, 'minding your own business'?

Apple gira toh khaa leta, bewda kahika.

“Ahhhhhh this is sooo good.”

A dramatic whisper-scream came from behind me.

I spun around in my revolving chair and found Vanya—my Vanya—rolling in my bed like some Bollywood heroine, clutching a book to her chest.

She was blushing.

Actually blushing.

Over a book.

A fictional man in a fictional situation.

Meanwhile, the real man in the room (me) was getting zero blushes. Zero.

I deadpanned, “Tum padhne aayi thi, by the way. Reminder du kya?”

She didn’t even look at me. “Haan toh?”

“‘Haan toh?!’” I mimicked dramatically.

“Batau tumhari mumma ko? Ke madam physics ke naam pe pyaar vyaar ki kitaabein padh rahi hain?”

I stood up and marched toward the bed like a disappointed father.

She sat up straight, annoyed. “Am I disturbing you? Tum jaake apne numericals karo na—”

I snatched the book.

“ARNA—”

I flipped to the page and read the first line out loud:

“‘His hand landed a hard spank on my bu—’”

The universe froze. I started reading the line again, because sure my eyes were betraying me. It still read the same.

Before I could read further, she snatched it back like a ninja.

“ARNAAAAVVVV!!!” She shrieked.

My soul left my body.

My jaw hit the floor.

My brain stopped functioning.

My eyes saw God.

VANYA READS P*RN???

Miss "I only read classics"

Miss "Romance is silly"

Miss "Studies over boys"

It was all porn??!

Next thing I know—

THWACK!

She smacked the book on the back of my head.

Hard.

Loud.

Even My ancestors felt it.

“You can’t just snatch my book, okay?! It’s bad manners, ullu ke pathe!”

She huffed, threw that X-rated scripture aside, and grabbed another book.

Chemistry.

I think.

But it was upside down.

I gulped.

Speechless.

Because this…

THIS was not the Vanya I signed up for.

And suddenly…

Physics wasn’t the most complicated thing in my life anymore.

I sat on the edge of the bed, still trying to process what my innocent eyes had just witnessed.

The words were still echoing in my brain. A hard sp— no. Nope. Not going there again.

I turned my head toward Vanya.

She was sitting cross-legged, pretending to read her upside-down chemistry book, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile.

She’s cute—

No.

Wake up, Arnav Rajawat.

This girl was reading unholy literature, not poetry. She is not cute.

“Book ulti hai, maate,” I muttered.

Her eyes shot wide. She quickly turned it right side up and gave me this painfully fake smile.

“Ha—ha—ha.”

The kind of laugh people give before HR fires them.

We just sat there.

Awkward silence.

Eye contact.

Regret.

I shook my head. She shook hers.

The tension in the room could’ve powered a 100-watt bulb.

“It’s really not that deep, Arnav,” she said finally, trying to sound convincing.

“Not that deep?!” I pointed dramatically at the book lying beside her.

“That book has traumatized me in one paragraph, Vanya!”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on—”

“You mean to tell me,” I interrupted, “you’ve been reading these kinds of books while I’ve been helping you hide them from your mom all these years?!”

I pointed at the scandalous book lying beside her like it had committed a crime.

“You’re telling me you read these types of books— and I’ve been supporting your little ‘study sessions’ all these years?!”

I clutched my chest in mock betrayal. “Itni ashleel ho tum?!"

And suddenly, my phone rang on the study table like it had been waiting its whole life to ruin my peace.

I sighed, dragged myself across the room, and picked up the call.

Nishchit.

Of course. The human loudspeaker.

The moment I picked up, his voice blasted out on speaker,

“Abbe ooo suar, kya kar raha hai?!”

I FLUNG the phone toward my ear like it was a grenade.

“Abbey gaali khane waale kaam matt kiya kar!” I hissed.

“Ghar par hoon main. Mummy sun leti toh aaj mujhe chaar din ka upvaas lag jaata!”

He paused.

“Ghar par hai??”

Translation: he’d just realised his volume could crack windows.

“Chal phir movie dekh kar aate hain,” he said casually.

“I need a haircut too. My ma is calling me Mowgli.”

In the background, I heard Yug laughing like a hyena who’d found free Wi-Fi.

“Woh gadha bhi aayega?” I asked.

“Ha aayega. Tanishi aur Ira bhi aayenge.

Ask Vanya to come too.

And PLEASE fast. I don’t want to be late.”

Last time we watched the hero die, revive, confess, break up and die again before we even entered the hall.

“Chal chal chal,” I said. “Aa raha hoon.”

I cut the call and turned around.

Vanya was staring at me with innocent confusion—

Like a small kid trying to understand income tax.

“Movie?” I asked.

Her face lit up instantly—literally like a 100-watt bulb just got voltage.

“OFCOURSE!” she squealed.

Then she jumped off the bed, sprinted out of the room and flew downstairs toward her quarter at a speed that violated three laws of physics.

And she left that goddamn scandalous book with me.

I stared at it.

It stared back at me.

The tension was worse than my midterm results.

Vanya's POV

I wanted to leave that room AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Because seriously—why did he have to flip right to THAT page and read it out loud like an audiobook subscription I never ordered?!

Ahhhh, it’s so embarrassing!

I sprinted straight to my room, zooming past my mother and brother without even checking if they were alive.

They’re usually busy in their own world anyway.

Not like I would care.

I yanked open my cupboard and started rummaging through the piles of outfits like a raccoon discovering a treasure chest.

Hmm. Movie means… cute-but-not-trying-too-hard outfit.

Kurti it is.

I grabbed my phone from the study table and dialed Shivika.

She picked up by the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hiiiiiiiiii!!!” I practically sang. “What are you doing? Busy??”

“Not really… just homework and all,” she replied, sounding like homework personally ruined her childhood.

“Movie dekhne chale?” I asked while wriggling into my kurti.

“Movie?” she repeated.

“Haan, Arnav and others are coming too.”

I finally pulled the kurti down over my head without suffocating to death. Victory.

There was a pause. Then:

“By others, you don’t really mean that bastard, right?” she asked, already annoyed.

“Oh, you mean your boyfriend? Yup, he’s coming too.”

I grinned. This was my Roman Empire—teasing her about Nishchit.

“Boyfriend meri jooti,” she snapped. “Ghar ka pet dog bhi na banaaun usse main!”

Oho.

Let’s add more fuel to the fire.

“Then I guess you won’t be coming?” I sighed dramatically, like I was sacrificing her for the nation.

“I won’t come? Because of some do-kaudi ka banda?? Hell with him—aa rahi hoon main!”

And she cut the call like a warrior charging into battle.

I giggled.

There’s nothing more satisfying than teasing her with Nishchit’s name.

It brings peace.

It brings joy.

It brings meaning to life.

As for me?

Mera kya—

Main toh single ki marungi.

Just like Newton.

We hail in the name of Newton!

Vanya's outfit



I came out of my room fully dressed, adjusting my hair with the confidence of someone who totally did not just traumatize herself in front of Arnav by reading spicier-than-expected literature.

“Ma! Main movie dekhne jaa rahi hu!” I yelled while searching for my shoes.

“Movie?” she called back from the living room.

“Haan, with my friends,” I replied, slipping into my sneakers.

Silence.

The dangerous, familiar, no-as-soon-as-you-step-in-the-hallway silence.

Oh god, here we go.

I marched into the living room and saw her sitting on the sofa, watching TV with that expression mothers get when they’re about to ruin your plans for character development.

“Don’t. Lunch karna hai—” she began the moment she looked up.

“Arnav’s also coming,” I announced, casually dropping my UNO reverse card on the table.

She blinked once.

“Arnav?”

I nodded.

One tiny beat.

“…okay, I guess.”

And her eyes went straight back to the TV like nothing happened.

Ha!

Mentioning Arnav always works.

He is literally the green tick mark my mother needs before approving any outing.

My personal Aadhaar OTP.

I grabbed my phone and stepped out—only to find Arnav already standing outside, looking around like a man who lost his dignity in broad daylight.

Arnav's outfit



I frowned. “Ab kya kho gaya iss baar?”

“My watch—” he started.

And I immediately smacked the back of his head.

“Tumne Mujhe diya tha last time, yaad hai???” I dug into my jeans pocket—thank god I wore the same pair—and pulled out the watch.

He rubbed his head, pouting like a kicked puppy.

“Isme maarne waali kaunsi baat hai bhala?”

“Saari,” (sorry) I said, handing him the watch. “Chalo, let’s go!”

Shivika's pov

I threw my phone on the bed and stormed downstairs through our mansion like a full-time nuisance.

“Ma! Ma! Mummy! Maata ji!!!” I yelled, echoing through all three floors.

My mother lifted one cucumber slice off her eye without even flinching.

“Lagta hai bhook lagi hai. Chappal khaogi?” she said in her usual sweet-but-deadly tone.

I ignored her—genetic roughness exists and I am living proof.

“Main cantt jaa rahi hu!” I announced dramatically.

“Cantt?” she repeated, gesturing her manicure lady to pause.

The poor woman froze mid-cuticle.

“Haan, Vanya is going for a movie,” I said, like it was the most innocent thing in the world.

Not mentioning that bandar, of course.

“Sirf Vanya?” my mother smiled, the kind of smile that sees through my soul and exposes all my sins.

I smiled back nervously.

“Uhh… Arnav… Yug… Tanishi… Ira… and…”

My voice died like a cheap Bluetooth speaker.

Nishchit?” she finished, way too calmly.

I nodded.

She placed the cucumber slice back and reclined like a queen on vacation.

“Please murder matt karna uska,” she said casually. “Aur tum khud bhi marr matt jana, request hain meri.”

She returned to her dual manicure-pedicure session as if she hadn’t just not given me legal permission to commit homicide and suicide.

Murder?

Qatal hoga uska.

Agar usne zara bhi irritate kiya—

main uski clean shave permanently kar dungi.

It didn’t even take me half an hour to get ready—main fast hoon, bas duniya slow hai.

Her outfit



I grabbed my essentials, walked out of the mansion, and found driver uncle standing primly with the car door open.

“Kahan chalengi aap?” he asked.

“Cavelier Auditorium,” I said, sliding in like I was entering Cannes.

He nodded, shut the door, and zoomed off.

On the way, I clicked a few selfies—good hair, good lighting, good mood.

Posted two on Instagram; deleted one because it didn’t match my grid vibe.

Within minutes, the car entered the cantt, lush greenery everywhere like some Bollywood army movie set.

“Bas bas bas, yahin,” I said as we reached the shopping complex area.

I stepped out. “7:30 pm — I’ll be at Vanya’s place. Pick me from there.”

Another nod. Another zoom.

I tucked my phone in my pocket and walked toward the auditorium complex.

Listen, I’ll give you one truth: army shopping complexes are OP.

Gift shop. Stationery. Clothes store. Bakery. Sweet shop.

You name it, they have it.

Ek choti parallel universe.

But right now—priority: hairdresser.

We needed to revisit our last tragic incident.

Last time, I said “do whatever you like,”

and man took it personally.

Turned my hair into a broomstick with feelings.

This time I would be specific.

Crystal clear.

Contract-based.

I pushed open the glass door of the salon.

“Areyyy bete!!” he chirped as soon as he saw me.

I glared. “Bete?

The feminist inside me got alarmed.

His face fell. Then he revived himself. “Beti! Beti!!”

“Very good. Aur aap jeet gaye 7 crore!” I announced like the game show host.

We laughed way too hard for a joke that stupid.

“Chalo batao, what can I do for you?” he asked, finally straightening up.

“I don’t want anything right now, but after a month—listen, PLEASE iss baar inspo pic follow karna. Main haath jod ke bol rahi hoon.”

I joined my hands like a victim seeking mercy.

“Arrey batao toh sahi pehle,” he shrugged. “What type of haircut?”

I pulled out my phone, opened my Pinterest board, and showed him.

“I want a wolf cut, with medium to short layers, and good face frammi—”

And then—

“Yeh tumhe achanak se bhediya kyu banna hai?”

A voice.

A familiar, irritating, unnecessarily opinionated voice.

I stopped.

The hairdresser stopped.

Even the ceiling fan stopped out of trauma.

I turned around.

And there he stood.

Nishchit.

The dog.

Stray dog.

Yug's pov

Yug's outfit



“Aap sach-mein nahi aaogi, Ma?” I asked, staring at my mumma who was driving with full confidence, hands on the steering wheel and shoulders literally dancing to Uchi Hai Building.

“Nope,” she said, perfectly in tune with the song, “I invited the Chatterjees for dinner. Nisha(twin's mother) will come to our quarter for the preparation too.”

Great.

Even the background score is mocking me.

I sighed and looked outside the window.

I am an atheist.

Ira’s flat, emotionless voice echoed in my head like some sad documentary narrator.

In the past few days, I’ve noticed one thing about her—

She is always sad.

Not the normal sad… like…

There’s something inside her holding her back from smiling, reacting, existing.

No matter how many stupid jokes I crack—

Nothing.

No grin.

Just a nod and back to solving her textbook questions like her life depends on it.

I mean, there’s a whole world outside books!

Meme pages exist!

Pizza exists!

I exi—

Shut up Yug!

I sighed dramatically and leaned back—

And that’s when I spotted two familiar silhouettes walking on the pavement.

“Mumma, slow down!!! Arnav aur Vanya hain woh!” I yelled.

She hit the brake slowly, and I stuck my entire head and upper body out of the window like a very enthusiastic Labrador.

“OYE KHOTTO!!” I screamed, waving my hand. (Donkey in Punjabi)

It took them a full second to realise it was me, and then, after confirming it was indeed the extremely handsome, universally adored, future-heartthrob Yug Mallick—

they ran to the car.

“Jaldi jaldi, get in the car!” I ordered like we were on a mission.

They hopped in.

“Thank you aunty ji!!” Vanya chirped, making herself comfortable—

But my eyes widened at the silver flash of a car zooming past us at the speed of light.

“W-was that… Shivika’s car?” I pointed, traumatised.

Both Arnav and Vanya stuck their heads out again like meerkats and confirmed:

“Haan ussi ki,” Arnav said.

“Itni mehengi car aur kiski ho sakti hai?”

Valid point. Valid trauma.

My jaw dropped.

My mother’s jaw dropped.

We both turned to each other, fear in our eyes.

“Mummy!!! JALDIIIIIII! Nishchit will reach before us!!!” I shrieked.

“Reach before us!? He must have ALREADY reached!” she yelled back, slamming her foot on the accelerator like she was racing for national pride.

“Humein murder rokna hai, Raaj Mata!!!” I panicked, clutching the seat.

“They should NEVER be alone!!! HOMICIDE ho jayega!!!”

The car shot forward like a missile.

Mission: save two teens from committing murder.

By the time we reached, there was already a full-blown commotion outside the salon.

I didn’t even wait for the car to stop properly—

I jumped out like a soldier on ground operation and sprinted towards the shop.

Arnav and Vanya ran behind me like it was the Olympics.

And the moment we entered—

“Ek ulte haath ki khaoge—!!” Shivika screamed.

“Kyu? Seedhe haath par mehendi lagi hai kya? Bhediya kahiki!” Nishchit barked back, absolutely fearless for someone with zero survival instincts.

Tanishi and Ira were standing at the side, frozen like background characters who accidentally walked into the wrong movie.

Before any of us could blink, Shivika reached for the scissors kept near the mirror.

“SHIVIKAAAAA!!!”

Vanya and Tanishi dove at her like security guards in a celebrity wedding.

“Chhodo mujhe!! Aaj toh iski ARTHI uthegi! Nahin toh mera naam bhi Shivika nahi—!!” she roared, thrashing in their grip.

“Toh NAAYA naam abhi se soch lo,” Nishchit replied calmly,

“Ganji Chudail is perfect.”

I swear even the hairdresser gasped.

“Abey SHUT THE HELL UP!” Arnav slapped a palm across Nishchit’s mouth like he was silencing a malfunctioning Alexa.

“Kya hua?!” I yelled, stepping between them like a peace ambassador.

“Why are you two fighting AGAIN?!”

“He started calling me bhediya, just because the haircut name was wolf cut!” Shivika pointed her finger so dramatically, even the salon lights dimmed.

I rubbed my face.

I am SO. DONE.

With these two.

Every outing turns into WWE.

“Ha toh? Who the hell named it wolf cut? Rename it to bhediya cut!” Nishchit yelled, finally dragging Arnav’s hand off his mouth like he was ripping tape.

“Now you will decide what to name a girls’ haircut?!” Shivika threw back, voice sharp enough to slice through the air.

“I’m only trying to make sense!” Nishchit barked again—because obviously he doesn’t value his life.

“BOTH OF YOU! SILENCE!”

My voice boomed before my brain could process it.

And suddenly—quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

I swear I could hear a leaf drop in slow motion somewhere outside. Even the saloon aunty froze mid-threading.

Both of them stood stiff, mouths shut, eyes wide. The kind of fear only I could put in them.

I dragged a hand down my face.

Kutte billi ki tarah ladte hain dono… for god’s sake.

“One more word,” I said, lowering my voice to that dangerous calm everyone knew too well,

“and I’ll have you both suspended from school.”

Wrong use of head boy powers?

Maybe.

But at this point, I was on the verge of suspending myself from dealing with them.

They backed off immediately—like someone pressed the mute button on their souls. Heads low. Arms folded behind. Model students suddenly.

There’s a reason the principal didn’t kick me out of the head boy position—even after a whole year of me terrorizing her with pranks.

Leadership qualities.

Or delusion.

Depends on whom you ask.

“We are here to watch a movie,” I announced, dusting my hands like I just solved India’s biggest political crisis,

“and I would like to watch it in absolute, divine, blessed peace.”

Vedang's pov

Vedan

g's outfit



“Bhaiya, jaldi!!!” Vedant burst into the bakery like someone had declared free chocolate for life.

Black forest cake. The only thing that could make him this dramatic. The cantonment bakery made it best—and he worshipped it.

Vedant's outfit



I followed at a slower pace, feeling almost peaceful—

“OH! Vedang!!!”

My entire skeleton froze.

Please no.

Not them.

Not them-not them-not them-not them—

I slowly turned my head.

And of course.

Fate hates me.

There they were.

The chaotic group of our school. The human equivalent of earthquakes.

The kind of people every sane student avoids… and somehow I am forced to sit among.

Tanishi beamed at me, walking over like she carried sunshine in her pockets.

“You’re here too? For the movie?” she asked cheerfully—like we were close friends.

Which, technically, we were.

From her side.

One-sided friendship, my specialty.

Vedant returned to me, eyes wide. “Bhaiya, who is thi—”

Before he could finish, his brain had already solved the mystery.

“Tanishi didi!!!” His face lit up as if he met a celebrity.

I stared at him.

Fourteen years of brotherhood, and this was the first time I witnessed that expression on him.

“Oh, Vedant!” Tanishi ruffled his hair. “Wait—you two are brothers?”

She asked the world’s most obvious question.

“Hanji!” Vedant answered instantly, enthusiastically, shamelessly.

“Aap mere bhaiya ko jaante ho?” he asked her.

“Uhh… we’re… benchmates?” she replied, smiling a little too hard.

Her face clearly screaming,

‘So you don’t tell your brother anything that happens in school??’

I looked away.

“Ohhh.” Vedant looked at me with a matching expression:

‘You didn’t tell me you sit with a girl?’

I looked away again.

As if life wasn’t embarrassing enough, the rest of the gang approached.

“Oh isn’t it our new student?” Arnav—the sports captain—placed a hand on my shoulder casually.

I glared.

He removed it faster than a mosquito fleeing from Odomos.

“Are you here for the afternoon movie?” he asked, suddenly shy.

“No, hum pastry lene aaye the,” Vedant answered for me.

Everyone nodded like it was breaking news.

A synchronized chorus of “oh”.

“Sirf pastry? Movie bhi dekh lo na,” Nishchit suggested gently—like a dog who’d just been yelled at by its owner.

“Haan, we’re all here for the movie. Come join us,” Yug finally spoke, voice calm, authoritative, too mature for this circus. Which was not the usual him.

Vedant tugged my finger.

His eyes—hopeful, pleading, shining.

And just like that, whatever resistance I had left dissolved.

“…Well then… I guess,” I replied.

Vedant grinned.

The gang grinned.

I mentally prepared myself for chaos.

“Tanishi didi! Sit beside me!” Vedant patted the seat next to him.

Or should I say—right between the two of us.

I blinked.

Is he… serious?

Why would she sit between us—

“Of course!!” she said, dropping into the seat happily.

I stared at her, judgment radiating from every cell in my body.

“What?” She raised a brow. “Your brother and I are friends. Last year we talked a lot during the annual sports function. You should’ve told me earlier, khadoos kahike.”

She turned away with fake attitude.

Wow.

Just… wow.

I looked around, suddenly noticing the pattern.

Of course it was the same as school seating.

Yug with Ira.

Arnav with Vanya—whatever her name was.

Shivika sitting three seats away from Nishchit as if they fight even through air.

Perfect.

The same chaos, just a different location.

I think I should consult a doctor.

I’m genuinely getting a migraine.

(A/n- bro talks like he has lived half a century, I swear 😭 he is just an year older than everyone 🥀)

Yug's pov

Popcorn.

Popcorn.

POPcorn.

I need popcorns. Immediately.

I didn’t even know which movie was playing, but apparently it was sci-fi—and suddenly my entire skeleton was vibrating with excitement. Once the movie starts, I’ll forget everything that happened before we walked inside.

Not like I was seriously scolding them anyway. Bas khauf banaye rakhna chahiye. What’s a head boy without a little dictatorship?

A soft cough dragged my attention.

I turned left.

Ira was shrinking into her seat like a terrified kitten.

The AC was blowing like we were sitting inside Antarctica.

Cool. Amazing. Just perfect.

Should I… give her my jacket?

Gentleman rule number one, right?

But she would definitely refuse. Obviously. She refuses everything. Even oxygen probably.

Still, I took my jacket off.

Worst case? I embarrass myself. That’s fine.

Main daily karta hoon.

Aur minus aura toh saath lekar hi ghoomta hu.

“Here,” I whispered, placing the jacket softly over her shoulders.

She looked up at me—surprised. Big eyes.

And then… she accepted it.

Silently.

Oh.

OH.

OHHHHHHH.

Character development???

I pretended to be calm, sat back like this was normal behaviour for me.

“Tumhe jaldi sardi lag jaati hai, I guess,” I said, trying not to sound like my heart was doing backflips, but a mature person.

She just nodded.

"Bohot kharab immune system hai tumhara. Hari sabzi nahi khaati tum?”

I said casually.

Her face fell.

Like that wilted rose emoji. (🥀)

Great.

Amazing.

Khud ka aura, khud ne hi minus kar diya.

Iss rate se sigma toh kya, main lowercase sigma (σ) bhi nahi ban paunga.

Ira's pov

I was genuinely shocked when Tanishi di casually mentioned that she visited the park beside the temple to meet the orphan children under the army’s care.

I always thought she was pure chaos. Turns out she’s chaos and a walking ball of kindness.

We played with the kids for a while. They were adorable—sticky fingers, loud voices, unlimited energy. The adults stood by the parking lot discussing something that looked very important but also very boring.

Yug, meanwhile, was on the marigold roundabout with five kids hanging from his arms and legs like he was some kind of heroic banyan tree.

Suddenly he yelled, “Chalo movie dekh kar aate hain!”

I almost dropped the kid I was holding.

Movie?

Movie?

In fifteen days of school I have never seen him near a book.

After school he practically kidnaps Nishchit bhaiya for “patrolling,” which—everyone knows—is just awaragardi with branding.

Naturally, I refused politely.

Naturally, he ignored me even more politely.

Then he convinced Nishchit bhaiya in 0.2 seconds, and suddenly it became a democratic decision where only my vote didn’t count.

I panicked for a moment. My mother usually calls around that time.

But bhaiya said he’d handle it, and after I explained the plan to the adults, Mama ji assured me my mother wouldn’t call—he’d talk to her himself.

We left the temple.

Yug’s mother diverted for fuel.

Nishchit bhaiya ran off for a haircut.

And… whatever happened in the salon is something I’ll pretend was a hallucination caused by incense smoke.

🥀

I catch colds at the speed of a Japanese bullet train.

If breeze even looks at me, I sneeze.

April here is still chilly, so when Yug draped his jacket over me, I accepted it immediately.

Not because of him.

Because survival.

The movie started.

Arnav and Shivika made the ultimate sacrifice and went to fetch snacks.

They returned like warriors—hands full, pockets full, popcorn overflowing.

It had been ages since I last watched a movie. Maybe after 10th boards.

I don’t have a favourite genre, but this one seemed nice.

Halfway into the first half, my spine started complaining, so I stretched and cracked my neck a bit, turning side to side—

And froze.

Yug was staring.

At me.

Full concentration.

Like the movie was behind my head.

“Movie saamne chal rahi hai, Mr. Mallick,” I said, judging him with full confidence.

Did I have something on my face? Dust? Popcorn? Life problems?

He muttered something under his breath and looked away quickly.

Because the sound system was too loud, I couldn’t hear it clearly.

But judging by the speed with which he looked away, it was probably something… bad.

He must be annoyed sitting next to me.

I don’t know how to act like other people.

I don’t laugh loudly, or react much, or talk non-stop.

I’m just… me.

Quiet.

Boring.

Can’t help it.

Author's pov

“I have freaking lost it,” Yug muttered, forcing himself to look away from her.

He told himself he was enjoying the movie.

He repeated it like a mantra.

He even leaned back in his seat as if distance could cure whatever this… problem was.

But then one glance—just one—at her relaxed face, the faint ghost of a smile resting there, and he was gone again.

He peeked.

Then peeked again.

And then pretended he wasn’t peeking.

Greedy?

Very much.

The boy who always lived in his own bubble, too untouchable, too cool, too busy being the school’s resident menace to notice girls—he never cared.

Other than his two or three permanent girl friends since childhood, he didn’t even acknowledge that the species existed.

He was happy like that.

Perfectly content.

Until he saw her.

And now?

He was getting greedy without even knowing it.

🥀

On the other side, Arnav’s heart was about to exit his body and go on a solo spiritual journey.

Vanya’s shoulder brushed his—barely, lightly, accidentally—and his entire bloodstream turned into a stampede.

He was breathing like he had run a marathon, silently begging his heart to behave.

She, of course, was completely unaware of the disaster she had caused.

His focus wasn’t on the movie at all.

It was on the exact millimetre of skin contact between them.

If someone paused time and asked him the plot, he would fail instantly.

🥀

Meanwhile, Tanishi had found a willing victim—Vedang’s brother, Vedant.

They were talking nonstop about how great the movie was even though the movie had barely begun.

Vedang pretended to watch the screen, but his eyes kept flicking to them.

Curiosity, annoyance, confusion—he was experiencing all three in high definition.

Were they really talking about the movie?

Or was he just out of the loop again?

Even he didn’t know.

🥀

And lastly, Shivika had finally calmed down.

Not because she regretted picking up a pair of scissors and attempting to yeet them at Nishchit.

Oh, absolutely not.

She still believed he deserved it for mocking her haircut.

Nishchit, on the other hand, sat as if none of the chaos concerned him.

His entire focus was on the movie—no guilt, no fear, no shame.

Just popcorn and peace.

If ignorance was bliss, he was the king of it.

How was the chapter?