Confidential

Aavya Bansal has exactly three goals:

1. Clear JEE without combusting,
2. Avoid a mental breakdown her mother would call "drama,"
3. And definitely not fall in love.

Her life is a perfectly organized disaster.
6 AM school. 6 PM coaching. 6 hours of self-loathing in between.
Her parents call it "preparation for a better future."
She calls it "burnout with extra physics."

Between hiding her burnout, her acne cream, and her mental breakdowns, Aavya wears a mask of a girl who has it together.
After all, even her classmates thinks she's rich. (She's not.)
Even her teachers think she's stable. (Definitely not.)

And then Veer Ahuja struts into her life with all the audacity of a boy who took commerce and still has peace. He doesn't believe in IITs, mock tests, or pressure-packed lives.
He doesn't know her GPA, but he knows when she needs a KitKat.
He doesn't know how to spell "valedictorian," but he knows how to wait by her scooty every evening like it's a religion.

They don't flirt. They roast.
They don't go on dates. They drive around in circles until she admits she's lost.
They don't say "I love you." He let's her lean on him when she is tired.

In a school where teachers have X-ray vision, phones are illegal, and hugging is a sin, they build a love story anyway.

But in a world where love is forbidden by school rules, parental rage, and society's hypocrisy, what do you call the bond that forms in stolen moments, shared chocolates, and late-night scooty rides?

You call it... Confidential.