𝐕𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐚𝐣𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐗 𝐉𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧.
In a world that screams, I stand in despair,
My voice drowned out, lost in the air.
Chains of tradition tighten each day,
I long to escape, but I'm forced to stay.
Each breath I take feels...
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The library was my escape. A quiet corner, a book, and the comforting smell of old pages—that was all I needed to block out the chaos of the world. I flipped through Principles of Corporate Finance, trying to focus on capital budgeting, but my thoughts kept drifting.
Vivaan Rajvanshi. Twice. Twice in one day, he managed to crash into my life—literally and metaphorically.
This morning, he almost turned me into roadkill with his flashy car. And as if that wasn’t enough, he later tried to “apologize” in class, only to end up irritating me even more. It was like fate had decided that today was “ruin Jhanvi’s peace” day, and Vivaan was its chosen weapon.
I tapped my pen against the book’s edge, glaring at the case study as though it were his fault I couldn’t concentrate. Rich boys like him think the world revolves around their charm and wallets, I thought bitterly.
He wasn’t even sorry—at least, not in a way that mattered. Sure, he said the words, but the smug look on his face completely ruined it. And that grin? Who does he think he is, smiling like that while I’m mad at him?
I slammed the book shut and leaned back in my chair, groaning quietly. No matter how hard I tried, his stupid face kept popping into my head—the way his hair fell over his forehead, that calm expression as if my anger was amusing to him.
The library’s silence did little to calm my frustration. I peeked out the window, hoping for a distraction, and there he was again. Standing outside, laughing with his equally obnoxious friend.
Probably plotting their next move to annoy me.
What on earth I’m thinking?
Why would he plan to annoy you Jhanvi?
I rubbed my temples. Why am I even thinking about him this much? He’s just another spoiled rich kid who thinks the world is his playground.
I reopened the book and forced myself to focus. Numbers and theories made sense; people like Vivaan didn’t. I didn’t hate him—I barely knew him—but something about his carefree attitude grated on my nerves.
