Echoes of the Field: Love's Bittersweet Symphony

The Unwanted

The alarm blares at 5 a.m. sharp, jolting Aayan awake with legs tangled in sheets and hair askew. "Aw, come to daddy," he coos to the kitten that always peeks through his window, a small moment of comfort before the chaos of the day begins.

With a quick shower, Aayan's morning takes a downturn as he discovers the shampoo bottle empty. "Well, definitely not a good start to the first semester," he mutters, resigned to the mishap. But even the inconvenience of a lack of shampoo can't dampen Aayan's excitement as he heads to the prestigious Presidency University.

Rushing through his breakfast, Aayan barely catches the bus, greeted by the frustrated Mr. Ghosh, the only conductor seemingly disgruntled by Aayan's haste. "You could have taken more time, sir," Mr. Ghosh grumbles, prompting a playful retort from Priya, a fellow student and family friend.

"Probably Delhi has better conductors," she quips, but Aayan is too focused on the day ahead to engage in banter.

Arriving at the gates of Presidency University, Aayan feels a surge of anticipation. It's not just any university; it's a place where dreams are nurtured and futures are forged. For Aayan, it's also a sanctuary where football reigns supreme, a passion that has guided him through the trials of college life.

Navigating the corridors, Aayan can't help but feel the weight of eyes upon him. He's used to the attention, but today it feels different, almost suffocating. As whispers follow his every step, Aayan sighs inwardly.

"Here we go, right," he murmurs to himself, steeling his resolve to face the day ahead.

Amongst the throng of students, Aayan stands out like a beacon, his towering frame and striking features drawing the gaze of every passerby. With luminous eyes that seem to sparkle with mischief and long, tousled hair that falls in waves around his chiseled jawline, Aayan exudes an aura of effortless charm and undeniable appeal.

"Nah... why is he so tall?" one girl whispers to her friend, earning a sharp rebuke. But Aayan pays no mind, his focus fixed on finding his way to the field as a freshman.

Approaching a group of girls, Aayan hesitates before asking for directions. The response is a flurry of fumbled words and nervous glances, leaving Aayan none the wiser.

Just as he begins to feel lost, a hand reaches out to guide him, and Aayan is led towards the field by none other than Asfa Siddiqi, the President of the Student Council.

Tall and confident, Asfa exudes an air of authority as she introduces herself to Aayan. She's dressed in a crisp white blouse paired with a brown pleated skirt that sways with each confident step. Her outfit is completed with a delicate gold necklace that glimmers in the sunlight, adding a touch of elegance to her ensemble.

"You can call me Asfa," she says with a smirk, relishing the opportunity to catch Aayan off guard.

"But don't you dare trespass the ladies' gym area again," she adds, her smirk widening into a grin. "You might find naked girls having a steam."

"No problem, ma'am. I will take care of it," Aayan replies calmly, earning a surprised chuckle from Asfa. "Haha, I'm not your ma'am," she declares, her grin turning mischievous. "I'm the President of the Student Council, Asfa Siddiqi. You can call me Asfa."

With a nod of gratitude, Aayan sets off towards the field, leaving Asfa in stitches at his unexpected response. She watches him go, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes, perhaps enjoying the playful banter more than she let on.

As Aayan disappears into the distance, a mysterious figure emerges from the shadows, their gaze lingering on the bustling corridor. With a thoughtful expression, the figure watches Aayan go about his day, a sense of quiet determination in his demeanor. Who is this mysterious observer, and what role will they play in the unfolding story of Aayan's journey at Presidency University?