(Slow updates)
He is the head boy, she is the head girl.
He breaks the rules, she follows the rules.
He likes to wander around, she likes to sit and study.
But what will happen when they start talking to each other through books?
Will they fall f...
Chupkese koi aayega... Fir meri neend churayega Fir sari raat jagayega... Ye soch ke dil ghabraye mera...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The mess hall buzzed with the usual chatter and clatter of trays, but I wasn't really paying attention. My eyes kept drifting back to the massive TV mounted on the boys' side wall. Its booming sound echoed through the room, but it wasn't the show or the news that held my attention. No, it was him.
Why was he everywhere today?
I tore my gaze away, my stomach doing an awkward flip as I focused on the brinjal curry in front of me. Normally, I'd savor it—one of the few decent things the mess served—but today, it tasted like cardboard. Maybe it was because I could still feel his gaze on me.
Is he looking at me again?
Trying not to seem too interested, I peeked up from beneath my lashes. I didn't care where he was looking, of course not, but honestly—who stares at someone while they're eating? That's just bad manners. But sure enough, he was staring, and worse, he was smiling. That cocky, self-assured grin that made me want to throw my plate at him, brinjal curry and all.
Just then, one of my seniors, who's basically like a brother to me, plopped down at a table behind him. He's always been there for me, and it doesn't hurt that he's best friends with our school captain, Veer Bhaiya. As he settled in, he caught my eye and I gave him a quick smile, scanning the room to make sure no teachers were watching us.
And just like that, Rehaan suddenly bolted up from his seat, plate in hand, and dashed out of the mess.
What the heck was his problem?
Whatever, good riddance. Now I can finally eat in peace.
Ooo
I was lounging on my bed after lunch, lost in "The Lost Child". Not exactly riveting stuff, but hey, it's school, right? I was trying to concentrate on the story—something about a kid getting separated from his parents at a fair—when Mahi, one of my housemates and classmates, strolled over. Her bed's right next to mine, so there's no real escape when she decides to pop up unannounced.
"Saher," she called softly. I glanced up from my book, trying not to look too annoyed. We were friends once, back when we first started here. Not best friends or anything, but she was the first person I befriended. Bonded over our family backgrounds and all that nonsense. She's the kind of girl who struts around in short skirts and designer shades like she's starring in her own little fashion show. I remember her confidently telling me, "Saher, we're going to be good friends. We don't have to fake anything; we have the same upbringing."
Yeah, about that.
Honestly, I couldn't care less about that whole "rich background" stuff. So, I put some distance between us. And as time passed, she started hanging out with the very girls she once warned me against. Double standards, anyone? Every time I think about it, I just shake my head. People are weird.
