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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Talab Hai Tu, Tu Hai Nasha.
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J H A N V I
Next Day
The moment I stepped inside the college gates, I felt a firm grip on my wrist.
“Meera—?”
Before I could even process, she was already dragging me along, weaving through students with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to keep up.
She turned her head slightly, smirking. “To have some fun.”
That could mean anything. And with Meera, it was rarely ever something simple.
She led me toward the Department of Management Studies building on the left side of campus, a spot that wasn’t too crowded in the morning. Only when we stopped did I notice the small stash of water-filled balloons in her hands.
I blinked. “Meera, what—?”
Before I could complete my sentence, the distinct growl of an engine filled the air. My gaze snapped toward the entrance, where a Royal Enfield Super Meteor 650 rolled in smoothly. The rider—dressed in a crisp white shirt and ripped jeans—removed his helmet, running a hand through his hair as he parked his bike near the steps.
Sarthak.
The guy had the kind of entrance that screamed money and confidence, and he knew it.
Meera followed my gaze, then grinned. “Perfect timing.”
