Memories

4

Shivani

If I had to describe my state of mind in one word, it would be madness. Pure, unfiltered madness.

Two things were driving me insane. One—the festival. Months of planning, sleepless nights, back-to-back committee meetings, and now the D-Day was finally here. Every student, every teacher, and even the principal was counting on us to make this annual youth festival the biggest one our college had ever seen. No pressure, right?

And two—my boyfriend. Or rather, my Bollywood superstar boyfriend who had casually dropped a bomb in his latest interview by admitting, on national television, that he had a girlfriend. Not only that—he had gone into details. A law student. Final year. Couple tattoos.

He might as well have held up a neon sign with my name on it.

Ever since the interview aired, the media had gone berserk. Instagram, Twitter, YouTube—everywhere I looked, people were speculating about who the mystery girl was. Fan pages were posting theories, paparazzi were dissecting old photos, and gossip sites were running wild.

The only thing saving me right now was that Karthik's public Instagram account had some pictures of us together where—thank God—my face was either turned away, blurred, or hidden behind his hand. At the time, I used to sulk that he never posted a proper couple selfie with me. Now I was thanking every deity that he hadn't.

Still, my nerves were shot.

After watching that interview, I'd tried calling him, but his phone was switched off. I spent the night tossing and turning, imagining worst-case scenarios. By morning, when my phone finally buzzed, it was a FaceTime call.

The second I saw his stupidly perfect smile filling my screen, my heart betrayed me and softened.

"Hey, baby," he grinned. "So... what should I wear?"

Of all the things. Here I was, ready to scold him, and he was busy treating me like his personal stylist.

"I should be mad at you," I said, narrowing my eyes, though the corners of my lips threatened to curve up.

Instead of looking guilty, he leaned closer to the camera and whispered dramatically, "But someone looks happy."

"Not happy," I corrected, rolling my eyes. "Just... excited. Big difference."

He chuckled, holding up two t-shirts. "Okay, verdict time. White or black?"

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "White. With black jeans. And wear your black leather jacket with those favourite sneakers of yours."

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted playfully. "But hey—you didn't tell me what you're wearing. We should match."

"Nope. Not telling." I smirked at his pout. "You'll have to find out yourself."

"Pretty please?"

"Nope."

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll survive the suspense."

"Good. Now bye—I have a thousand things to do."

Before he could argue, I cut the call, slipped my phone into my pocket, and rushed to get ready. My hands shook as I fastened the tiny silver pendant around my neck—a gift from him. I told myself it was just nerves, but deep down, I knew it was more. Today wasn't just the festival. It was the day my two worlds were going to collide—Shivani the law student, and Shivani the secret girlfriend of India's heartthrob. The college auditorium was already buzzing with chaos by the time I got there. Streamers being fixed, sound checks being run, volunteers rushing back and forth. Maria, our ever-bossy coordinator, stood at the centre of it all like a general commanding her army.