No, it can’t be true.

How can this even happen?

Boys barely talk to me. I’ve never even received a confession like other girls do. And now, out of nowhere, the bad boy and the most popular guy has a crush on me?

No. Absolutely not. I must be reading all the wrong signals.

What if he just needed a dance partner for the annual function? That’s it. Nothing more. Maybe I’m overthinking this whole thing.

Gosh, Kiara planted this idea in my head, and now I can’t stop spiraling. She just had to say it, didn’t she?

I shook my head, trying to distract myself. “Focus, Ishita!” I muttered, then looked around my room for something to paint.

Wait. Where are my poster colors?

I clearly remember keeping them in my drawer yesterday.

Panic set in as I opened every drawer, every shelf. Nothing.

Arghh! Did I mention how angry I get when someone touches my painting stuff?

I bolted downstairs, yelling, “Mom! Did you see my poster colors?”

From the kitchen, she calmly replied, “No. Why?”

“I kept them in my drawer, and now they’re gone!”

“Check properly. They’ll be there.”

“No, Mom. They’re NOT there!” I said, frustration building.

And then I heard it.

Music. Loud, obnoxious music blaring from my brother’s room.

Oh no.

If he dared to touch my colors, I swear I’d make him bald.

I stormed towards his room, flinging the door open dramatically.

And there he was.

Dancing like a complete monkey, holding—wait. Is that my brush?

And... he’s using my poster colors to paint his stupid T-shirt.

Is He Serious?!

“What the hell!” I screamed, rushing in.

He froze mid-dance, holding up the T-shirt like it was some masterpiece. “What? I’m being creative!”

“CREATIVE?! You used all my poster colors! Do you even know how expensive they are? One drop could last for months, and you used it to make—” I snatched the T-shirt from him. “This?! What even is this? A tree? A dog? It looks like a mutant chicken!”

“It’s abstract art,” he said, blinking innocently.

By now, the entire house had gone silent. My mom peeked in from the doorway, and behind her, my dad stood, looking mildly amused but also cautious—probably knowing what was about to happen.

I glared at my brother, who was blinking at me, gulping like he knew he was doomed.

“Do you have any idea how mad I am?” I shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at my brother, who was now trying to back away like a guilty criminal.

He laughed nervously, clutching his poorly painted T-shirt. “Come on, it’s just colors—”

That did it. The last thread of my patience snapped.

I lunged at him, grabbing his hair like a wrestler ready to end the match. “You’re dead!” I screamed.

“BACHAO!” he yelled, gripping my hair in retaliation. And just like that, World War 3 erupted in our house.

(HELP)

My mom burst into the room, her hands flying to her head in exasperation. “Stop it! Both of you!”

Meanwhile, my dad peeked in, sighed, and muttered, “Gosh, these kids,”.
Thanks for the support, Dad.

The chaos continued—screaming, yelling, hair-pulling, and my brother trying to escape my wrath while still defending his “masterpiece.”

“You used my expensive poster colors on that?” I shouted, pointing to the mess on his T-shirt.

“It was for my art project!” he screeched, wriggling like a worm caught on a hook.

“Art project? This looks like a blindfolded chicken dipped its feet in paint and did Zumba on your T-shirt!”

“It’s called creative freedom!” he yelled back.

Mom finally forced her way between us, prying me off him like I was a wild cat. “Enough, Ishita!”

“But Mom—”

“No buts!” she interrupted, glaring at both of us.

I crossed my arms, fuming. “What about my colors, huh? They’re ruined!”

Mom sighed and turned to my brother. “Apologize to your sister. Now.”

“But—”

“Now!”

He crossed his arms, muttering, “Fine. Sorry.”

“Sorry? That’s it? What about replacing my colors? Do you even know how expensive they were?”

He pouted like a scolded puppy. “Fine, I’ll get you new ones!”

I raised an eyebrow. “With what money? You’re broke!”

Dad inteuppted. "Ishita. I’ll get you new ones, Can we have peace in this house now?”

I stomped back to my room, still fuming. How could one person be so annoying and untalented at the same time?

Finally settling at my desk, I opened my sketchbook to calm down. Just as I picked up a pencil, my phone buzzed.

A notification popped up:

Ahaan Malhotra liked your post.

I blinked, staring at the screen.

“Great,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair. “Because clearly, my day wasn’t chaotic enough already.”

The next day, as usual, I left for school, not knowing how the day would unfold. Honestly, after the series of events recently, I couldn't trust my destiny anymore. Anything could happen.

And just like that, it did.

As I walked through the corridor, Sangita ma’am, our biology teacher, called me over. Her smile was sweet, but I knew it wasn’t for a friendly chat.

“Ishita, could you do me a small favor?” she asked.

I nodded hesitantly, bracing myself for whatever this “small favor” was.

“Can you lend this copy to Ahaan? And also tell him to complete the portfolio for the annual biology project?”

My mind screamed,

Say no, Ishita.

Just say no!

Make an excuse, fake an emergency, pretend you’ve lost your voice—anything!

But what came out of my mouth? “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled in relief, handed me the copy, and walked away.

And that, my dear life, is exactly why I don’t trust you. This is also the biggest curse of being an introvert—I just cannot say no, even when my brain is screaming in protest.

Now, how on earth was I supposed to tell Ahaan anything? My heart sank as I realized I had no choice.

Sighing in defeat, I made my way to class. The moment I stepped in, my eyes darted to the last bench.

And, of course, there he was—Ahaan Malhotra, leaning back with his AirPods in, looking every bit like the bad boy girls write in their diaries about.

He didn’t even notice me walk in.

Great, I thought. Now I have to approach him and somehow not make a complete fool of myself.

Clutching the copy like it was my last hope for survival, I forced my feet to move toward him. Why, Sangita ma’am? Why me?

I took slow, calculated steps toward the last bench, silently praying he wouldn’t notice me until I was already standing there. But, of course, destiny wasn’t on my side.

Halfway there, he looked up, pulled out one AirPod, and arched an eyebrow at me. His sharp, curious gaze locked onto mine, and I froze.

“Hey, Miss Topper,”

he said casually, as if we were best friends.

“What brings you here?”

I cleared my throat, my voice refusing to cooperate. “Uh… Sangita ma’am… she asked me to… um, give this to you,” I stammered, holding out the copy like it was radioactive.

He smirked, leaning forward slightly, making my nerves skyrocket.

“Oh, really? She sent you to deliver it?”

I nodded furiously, my words still stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

He took the copy from my trembling hands, his fingers lightly brushing mine in the process. “Thanks,” he said, his voice smooth.

“And she said…” I started, trying to get this over with quickly. “She said you need to… um, complete the portfolio.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course, she did. Anything else, Miss Topper?”

I shook my head, my eyes firmly fixed on the floor. My brain screamed at me to leave, to escape this awkward situation, but my legs felt like they were glued to the ground.

“You’re blushing again,”
he said, his voice teasing.

My head shot up, and I glared at him in panic. “I-I’m not!”

He leaned back in his seat, a smug grin on his face. “Sure you’re not.”

I wanted to vanish. Right there, right then. Gathering whatever courage I had left, I turned to leave. But before I could take a step, his voice stopped me.

“Ishi” he called, his tone suddenly softer.

I turned around, reluctantly meeting his gaze. I hummed

“Thanks,”
he said, his eyes holding something unreadable.

I nodded quickly, mumbling a “uhh....welcome,” before practically running back to my seat.

Wait, he called me Ishi.

Wow, it sounded so... sweet.

I placed a hand over my chest.

And... crap. My heart was pounding like crazy. “Shh, calm down,” I whispered to myself, stealing a glance at him. What if he could hear it?

He wasn’t as bad as people said. He looked dangerous, sure, but he talked to me so nicely. Almost like he cared.

Should I just say yes?

But how?

Before I could spiral any further into my thoughts, the sound of heels clicking on the classroom floor caught my attention.

Kiara walked in, and—wait—was that a romantic smile on her face?

Was I hallucinating? Or dreaming?

I rubbed my eyes dramatically, but nope, there she was. Kiara Sandhu, grinning like she just stepped out of a romantic Bollywood movie.

And the bigger shock? She was here early. EARLY! The class was practically empty—just me, Ahaan (still lost in his AirPods), and Kiara.

She strolled past me, smiling to herself like she was floating on air.

“Is she sleepwalking?” I muttered under my breath before grabbing her hand.

“Oh hello, madam! Your station is right here,” I said, stopping her from walking straight behind me.

Kiara snapped out of her trance and blinked at me, her smile faltering for a moment. Then she lightly slapped her own forehead.

I frowned, leaning closer. “What happened? Did you hit your head or something?”

She gave me an embarrassed look, and I felt a tinge of concern. What was going on?

I sighed, stealing another glance at Ahaan. Still zoned out with his music. Great, no witnesses to her weird behavior.

Kiara finally sat on the empty front bench, still looking like she was on another planet.

“Bro, tera accident hua hai kya?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

(BRO, have you met with an accident?)

Her head shot up, and she looked shocked. “HOW do you know?!”

I blinked. “Wait—WHAT?! Accident?!”

She nodded seriously. “Haan, bro. Accident toh hua tha kuch time pehle.”

(Yes, BRO. The accident had happened some time ago.”)

Now I was completely confused. “What happened? Are you okay?!”

She leaned in dramatically, lowering her voice.

“The author will tell you the whole scene.”

Flashback

Kiara was heading to school in her car, still processing how she managed to wake up so early. Maybe it was that dream—the one she had in the morning.

A dream where she met someone.
A guy. But his face was a mystery.

Shrugging it off, she reached school, grabbed her bag, and headed toward the gateway. As usual, she was humming her favorite idol Vedi’s song, lost in her own little world.

And that’s when it happened.

Her foot twisted unexpectedly, and she completely lost her balance. She was about to land face-first on the ground.

Just as she braced herself for impact, a firm grip saved her.

No, not on her waist. Not the cliché movie moment.

But her bag.

Someone had grabbed her bag from behind like she was a toddler about to topple over.

In one swift motion, the person pulled her upright, steadying her.

Kiara blinked, stunned. She turned her head to see who her savior was, and the moment her eyes landed on him, her brain short-circuited.

The guy in front of her had a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. His fair skin, perfectly styled hair, and those grey eyes were straight out of a dream.

And to add the cherry on top? He was wearing glasses.

Glasses!

Hot and cute, all wrapped into one.

Kiara froze. She didn’t blink. She didn’t breathe. She just stared.

But the guy didn’t even glance back at her. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

He just... walked away. Like nothing happened.

Kiara was still standing there, dumbfounded. Her mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but her voice failed her.

She finally gathered her senses and tried to call out, “Hey, thanks!”

But by the time she mustered the courage, he was gone.

She whispered dramatically, flipping her hair for added flair, “Kaun hai yeh? Jisne doobara mudke mujhe nahin dekha... Who is he?”

(And yes, it was full-on K3G Poo style).

(Let me Tell you one thing kiara is the biggest fan of Kareena kapoor)

Flashback end

I said, “Wow, that’s…filmy.”

She sighed dreamily. “Exactly! I mean, I don’t know what happened to me, but he is so attractive.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but who is he?”

“That’s the problem—I don’t know! Maybe he’s a new student?”

“Yeah, could be…”

Before I could finish, Kiara suddenly shot up from her seat like she’d seen her future husband walk into the room.
I yanked her back down. “What now?”

She whispered loudly, her eyes wide as saucers, “Bro! He’s the same guy who saved me! Is he a new student? What’s he doing in our class? Oh my God, is he going to be our classmate?!”

I followed her gaze, feeling curious myself. And then I froze.

She was talking about… RUDRA.

I turned to her, half-shocked, half-confused. “You’re talking about Rudra?”

She looked at me and asked, “You know him?”

I gave her the ‘are-you-serious-right-now?’ look.

“Wait…don’t tell me you don’t know Rudra,” I said, disbelief dripping from every word.

She blinked at me, genuinely confused.

I stared at her like she’d grown two heads. “Bro, did you seriously hit your head or something? Rudra has been in our class since, like, 5th or 6th grade! And you never noticed him?”

Kiara stood up again, completely flabbergasted. “WHAT?!”

The entire class turned to look at her, including Ahaan.

This girl was going to be the death of me. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back into her seat before she could cause more drama.

“How did I never notice him?” she asked, more to herself than to me.

I shook my head, feeling equal parts amused and exasperated. “Yeah, well, sometimes we don’t notice things…like how I didn’t notice Ahaan either.”

And that’s when I realized I’d said too much.

Kiara smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, ho ho. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

I groaned inwardly. I had just dug my own grave.

It was the first period when our class teacher, Mrs. Olivia Mathew, entered the classroom. She carried her usual aura of authority—strict yet fair.

She was our maths teacher, and honestly, because of her, our class had gone from the worst to the best. Her presence alone was enough to silence even the loudest chatterboxes.

As she walked in, we all stood up and greeted her in unison, “Good morning, ma’am.”

She nodded, her sharp gaze scanning the class. “Good morning. Sit down and open your books to page 64.”

The period flew by as she went through quadratic equations with her trademark no-nonsense approach. At the last minute of class, she paused, looked at us, and said, “Before I leave, I have an announcement.”

The class immediately fell silent, everyone paying attention.

Mrs. Olivia continued, “Regarding the upcoming annual function, there will be a dance program. If you’ve already chosen your partners, you can write down your name, your class, and your partner’s name and submit it to me by the end of next week. For those who haven’t decided yet, take your time. But remember, no partner means no participation.”

She glanced around the room, her piercing gaze making some students squirm. “Any questions?”

No one dared to raise their hand.

“Good,” she said, her tone final. “That will be all. Class dismissed.”

As she left, the classroom exploded with chatter. Everyone was either discussing potential dance partners or panicking about the deadline.

And here I was, sitting in my seat, feeling completely lost.

What should I do?

My mind was a mess. The thought of dancing in front of the entire school was nerve-wracking enough, and now there was the added pressure of choosing a partner. Ahaan’s offer replayed in my head, his casual but surprisingly sweet smile flashing in my memory.

But could I really do this?

I sighed, resting my head on my desk. One week. I had one week to decide.

Lunch Break

You remember how I said this morning that anything could happen? Yeah, I was right.

Kiara and I were walking back to class from the corridor, chatting and minding our own business. We were just passing by Class F when I heard someone call out:

"Ishita!"

I stopped in my tracks, confused. Kiara turned to look too.

And would you believe it—it was Rahul.

Oh. My. Gosh. RAHUL.

Not only did he know my name, but he actually noticed me. He said my name! My crush called me! No, wait—this can’t be real. Maybe he was calling someone else?

But then I saw him walking straight toward me.

Kiara muttered under her breath, loud enough for me to hear, "Yeh langoor yaha kyun aa raha hai?"

(Why is this langoor coming here?")

Good question, Kiara. I wanted to know too.

He stopped right in front of me. His friends were watching from the corner, whispering and snickering, but I didn’t care. My entire focus was on him.

And then he spoke.

"Would you like to be my dance partner?"

...

I swear, this dance program is turning my life upside down.

If you’re enjoy this journey, please show your love and support! Every vote, comment, and share means the world to me. Thank you for joining me on this story, and I hope you’ll continue to follow Ishita and Ahaan’s journey! Your support truly motivates me to keep writing and sharing their world with you. 💖

Thank you 🫶🏻

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