Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night,
My baby's fit like a daydream,
Walkin' with his head down,
I'm the one he's walkin' to.

Aahana:17
Reyansh:18

Delhi

"Aahana beta, we've reached." my driver uncle murmurs, his gaze flicking to me through the rearview mirror, worry darkening his features.

I sit in the back seat, feeling the cold weight of my own expression-pale, like tragedy has already claimed me.

It has.

The moment my parents said we were moving to Delhi—
yeah, that was it.
The final nail.

I’ve spent my entire life being molded, carved, edited.
A checklist of dos and don'ts taped to my back like a label I never agreed to wear.

“Aahana, don’t wear that.”
Too loud. Too bold. Too you.
“Aahana, don’t eat that.”
Because liking things is dangerous.
“Aahana, don’t watch that.”
God forbid I see the world beyond these four walls.
“Aahana, don’t make friends.”
Isolation makes for an obedient daughter.

And the one that never stopped echoing—
“Aahana, don’t you dare touch colours.”

As if colour meant chaos.
As if touching red or blue or yellow would set me on fire.
As if they knew that the second I let a little light in,
I’d never go back to living in their dark.

So I stopped.
Let them draw the lines and I stayed inside them.
Let them drain the colour and I didn’t fight back.

Now, I exist in black and white.
A frame. A filter. A version of myself they can stomach.

From the outside? It’s all clean lines and tragic beauty.
But inside?
It’s suffocating.
It’s a scream pressed between clenched teeth.
It’s a girl disappearing in slow motion—not because she wants to,
but because no one ever taught her how to stay.

He looks at me with pity in his eyes.I don’t return it.
I just turn to the window as the car stops in front of my new school.

The sky is grey, not quite rain, not quite clear.A middle ground.Much like me.

It’s funny how no matter where I go,it never feels like home.
This place, that place—it’s all just... space.
A roof over my head, but nothing to make it mine.

They say time heals.
But time only drags on when you’ve never had anywhere to belong.

What's the one thing everyone fears when changing schools?

Losing friends, a quiet whisper echoes in the back of my mind.

I don't have any, so I don't care about that. What worries me isn’t the school itself.
It’s the kind of crap I’m about to deal with once I’m inside.
Will it feel like a fresh start,
or will it be just like my house?

Will this school be any different?
Or is it just another version of hell?
Guess we'll find out.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my bag from the seat beside me. I offer uncle a smile-reassuring, both for him and for myself-before stepping out of the car.

“I’ll be fine. You can go.”
The lie slips out smoother than it should, my voice steady even as everything inside me trembles.
He hesitates, the worry in his eyes cutting deeper than I expect—gentle, unwavering, almost paternal. He’s always seen me, even when the ones who should’ve never looked away did.

I've learned to care only for those who care for me, and I don't regret it.

Hesitant, he leaves, and I watch the car until it disappears from sight.

My gaze shifts to the gate of my new hell. Why does it feel like it's only getting worse instead of better?

For a few seconds, I watch the groups of students walk by, laughing and joking with their friends. 

Does it feel good? To have real friends? Ones who actually see you?
Guess I’ll never know.

Come on, Aahana. You just have to survive one year. You always did. You’ve survived worse. One damn year. Just bear it.

In an instant a tap on my shoulder makes me flinch. I turn quickly, and there he is-none other than Nishant Singhania, the "creep" son of my father's friend , staring back at me.

"Should I give you a tour of the school?" he asks, a familiar creepy smile playing on his lips.

I bite back a laugh.
This guy seriously thinks I’m the same Aahana he sees at those business parties—shy, quiet, and on my best behavior because my parents are around.

Does he really think I’m going to play sweet now, too?

This isn’t my home, my parents aren’t around, and the sweet Aahana? She’s not here.
The Aahana standing here now doesn’t care about being nice.

I’ve put up with his crap because my parents warned me not to misbehave. But honestly? His cringey lines don’t make me feel anything but disgust.

"Have your parents stopped funding your existence, so you are offering tours for a living now?" I raise an eyebrow and give him a glare.

He freezes as students pass by, laughing. Guess I was too loud. Do I care? No.

I don't spare them a glance, eyes locked on the guy in front of me.

I can practically feel the anger radiating off him as he glares at me, dangerously.

Does he think he can scare me? What an absolute idiot.

I scoff at him and turn toward the entrance, leaving him there like the joke he is.

3 hours later..

“It’s games period. Line up and head to the ground.” the teacher’s voice slices through the room, yanking me out of my almost-nap.

Finally, the torture is on break for now. First, the teacher's unbearable. Then there are the students-especially the girls, and by that, I mean my deskmate-who haven't even looked my way, let alone smiled or greeted me.

Just a few minutes ago, I asked her about a math problem from the previous class that I couldn't solve, and she straight-up ignored me. Like, what the hell?!

And it's not just her. The girls sitting in front of me have been whispering and giggling about boys nonstop since I walked in.

It's honestly exhausting. I don’t vibe with that at all. But at least now I know exactly who to avoid.

There was this one name that kept coming up... ugh, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Whoever he is, the way they were going on about him, you’d think he was some kind of serial heartbreaker or something.

Apparently, another girl is supposed to confess to him today.

Honestly, I kind of want to see what all the fuss is about—what kind of so-called Greek god has everyone acting like they’re in a teen drama.

Everyone around me gets up and leaves, and I just sit there, letting everything that's happened since I walked into school this morning sink in.

If the first day is like this, I can't even imagine how the rest of the year is going to be. The suffocation in my chest gets worse the more I think about it. I need to take a deep breath and just get through it.

I force myself to stand up and head toward the playground. The school is huge, and I'll probably get lost, but I've got time. Plenty of time.

I roam aimlessly through the corridors, and with my luck, I somehow end up at the playground within five minutes. Fucking great.

How bad I wish I could figure out my life problems as easily as I found my way to this damn playground.

Now that I'm here, I see my class isn't the only one having games period. There's a huge crowd. Where the hell am I supposed to go? Are the teachers here insane? Who leaves a newbie on their own on the first day? Do they even care about the new students?

With no way left, I make my way toward the crowd. With every step closer, I feel this weird nervousness creeping in, and I have no idea why. As I get closer, my vision clears, and I see a football match is going on.

What now? Should I just go to the front to see it better? I don't even know where the other people from my class are. You know what? Screw it, no one even cares where I am.

I push through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, and finally reach the front.

"This is a good spot."

"Can you hold this for me? I'll be back in a minute." The voice comes from beside me, and I turn to find my deskmate standing there.

My eyes move to the water bottle in her hand. It's not hers-it's one of the packed ones. As I glance around, I see several more lined up on the table at a distance.

"Sure." Although I'm a bit hesitant-can't she just leave it on the table? It's sealed, after all. And she blatantly ignored me few minutes ago. Why should I help her out?

Whatever. I don't hold grudges.

She hands me the bottle and walks away.

Well, I'm thirsty too. I'll just take a sip from this, there are plenty on the table, she can grab one of those. I crack open the seal and take a sip.

Suddenly, everyone screams, and my heart nearly stops, making me flinch. I choke on the water, coughing it down. What's going on? Did they win the match?

My eyes drift over the players on the field, half laughing and hugging, while the other half makes their way towards the corridor I came from, their heads down. Nishant's one of them. Did he lose? He deserves this anyway.

Just as I start to look away, I feel it-his gaze. One player, moving toward me, eyes fixed on mine.

My heart skips a beat, pounding harder with every step he takes. Why is he coming toward me? With each step, time seems to stretch, and all I hear is the thudding of my heart.

His messy hair, sweat trickling down his neck onto his black jersey, and his nearly 6'0 frame move towards me, his eyes fixed on mine without hesitation.

The intensity in his gaze feels almost like he's unable to look away. Go on, Aahana, my mind taunts, daring me to break the stare.

When he's almost in front of me, I realize-

He.has.fucking.Honey.Brown.Eyes.

The kind that glow under the sun, so warm and deep, so intense, that they hold me captive. I can't look away. I don't even want to. My face stays frozen, unreadable, but inside? Inside, everything is burning.

Finally, he steps right in front of me, his eyes still locked on mine, an intensity I can't escape. Do you plan to kill me with those eyes of yours Mr. Black jersey?

Before I can even open my mouth, he takes the bottle from my hand without a word. It's like I'm frozen in place, watching in disbelief as he casually gulps it down.

But I already drank from that-why is he drinking from it? My eyes widen, my heart stutters, and my body screams at me to say something, to stop him, but all I can do is watch. In a matter of seconds, the bottle is empty, and he places it on the table with a soft clink.

Then, as if the universe isn't already mocking me, he pulls his jersey up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, and my breath catches in my throat.
I blink once. Twice. Thrice.

Now, why would you do that? Every little move he makes sends my heart racing.

In the blink of an eye, someone across the field calls out, and he walks away without even glancing my way. Wait... that's his name?

Reyansh?

HE IS THE ONE!!!

He’s the serial heartbreaker, and now I see exactly why.

I watch him until he’s out of view, my cheeks on fire and my heart racing so fast I can practically hear every beat in my ears.

When I finally snap out of it and turn to make my way towards the classroom but then I spot her. My deskmate, standing there with a bouquet of roses, pure anger practically radiating off her.

Shit . Shit . Shit.

Is she the girl who was going to propose to him today?

She takes a step toward me, and when I say her eyes are bloodshot—I mean it. The rage in them is raw, almost unhinged.

"How does it feel?" she asks.
"What?"
"That split second of attention he gave you. Does it feel good now? Do you feel special?"

So she really is the one who was going to propose. But why is her anger aimed at me? It’s not like I told him to grab the bottle from my hand.

"I don't know ask him." I say, stepping toward her, my eyes locked on hers.
"What?"
"How he felt after the split second of attention I gave him."

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