"Tumse Milke Dil Ka Hain Jo,
Haal Kya Kahein
Ho Gaya Hain Kaisa Ye,
Kamaal Kya Kahein"
~ Tumse Milke Dil Ka - Sonu Nigam
~2 weeks later~
The first day of college was supposed to be simple. Show up. Get the schedule. Leave.
I had it all planned out arrive early, grab a seat in the back, avoid eye contact, and get out before anyone tried to make small talk or, God forbid, suggest we exchange numbers for a "study group."
But does anything ever go according to your plan? NEVER!
I was running late. Of course I was. Bua (paternal aunt) was insisting on making a full breakfast. I'd barely managed to escape after promising I'd eat lunch and "try to make at least one friend."
Yeah, right like I would.
I grabbed my helmet, threw my leather jacket over my red spaghetti strapped top and baggy jeans and left the house. My bike was the one thing that never let me down. A sleek black Harley Davidson CVO Road Glide RR that I'd saved up for over one years. The moment I swung my leg over and felt the engine rumble to life beneath me, everything else faded.
The road. The speed. The wind drowning out every anxious thought in my head.
This was freedom.
I wove through traffic, taking the backroads I'd memorized over the past three years. California mornings had this golden quality to them, the kind of light that made everything look softer, kinder. I didn't buy it. The world wasn't soft. It wasn't kind.
But damn, it was beautiful on a bike.
By the time I pulled into the Westridge Central College campus, the parking lot was already half-full. Groups of students clustered near the entrance laughing, hugging, taking pictures like this was the best day of their lives.
I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, hands still gripping the handlebars.
You can do this. This isn't your first time doing this. A few hours. Then freedom.
The campus was bigger than I expected. Wide pathways lined with palm trees, modern buildings with way too much glass, and everywhere—everywhere—people. Talking. Laughing. Existing loudly.
I kept my head down, avoiding people, earbuds in, letting the music build a wall between me and the rest of the world. My hands down in my leather jacket as I headed for fashion department's main office.
Almost there. Just a few more steps.
~
I swear I'm going to kill Aadya. This girl is driving me crazy.
"Aadyant, paanch minute ruk jaa. Mujhe woh fashion designing waali building dekhni hai!" She'd been begging since we left the penthouse, and I'd been stupid enough to think she'd drop it.
(Translation: - Aadyant, just five minutes. I want to the see the fashion designing building.)
"Aadya, we're already late—"
"Arey, tum bahut badi hasti ho. Aise kaise nikal denge tumhe" She grinned and pulled me along towards the fashion designing building as if I was the younger sibling.
(Translation: - You're already a big deal here. No one's going to kick you out.)
I shot her a look, "That's not the point."
I glanced at my watch. We had fifteen minutes before the orientation starts. Fifteen minutes which Aadya was about to waste dragging me around the campus like a lost tourist.
The fashion building was on the far end of campus all glass walls and modern architecture that screamed "creative space." Students were filtering in and out, some carrying portfolios, others with fabric samples tucked under their arms.
"You picked business, remember? Because you wanted to—"
"Yeah, yeah, run the Jodhpur properties with you. I know." She waved me off. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate art."
I was about to respond when someone came barreling out of the building's side entrance—moving fast, head down, completely oblivious to everything around them.
I saw it happening in slow motion.
Aadya stepped back from the glass at the exact wrong moment, right into the person's path.
"Aadya—"
~
I wasn't paying attention.
That was my first mistake.
I'd just left the fashion department's main office after picking up my welcome packet and schedule. The lady at the desk had been way too cheerful, trying to get me to sign up for clubs and socials and all the things I had zero interest in. I'd smiled politely, grabbed my stuff, and bolted.
Head down. Music up. Standard protocol.
I pushed through the side door, already planning my escape route to the parking lot, when—
I slammed into something. Hard.
"Shit—"
My folder went flying, papers scattered across the pavement. Strong hands caught my shoulders, steadying me before I could face-plant.
"Careful!"
I looked up, ready to apologize, but froze.
The girl I'd crashed into was around my age, pretty, with long slick-black hair and an expression that was more startled than angry.
I apologized immediately, "I'm so sorry, I should have been more careful."
To which she replied, "No no, it's my fault. I only wasn't looking."
Suddenly someone beside her asked, "Umm.... Are you okay?" It him the guy who saved me.
He was... tall. Really tall. Dressed in a crisp white button-down rolled up to his forearms and dark jeans that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Hair perfectly styled in that effortless way that definitely wasn't effortless. Sharp jawline. The kind of face that belonged on magazine covers or movie screens.
And he was staring at me like I was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day.
I replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."
He asked again, "You sure? I mean the collision was—", "No, I'm fine", I cut him.
The girl helped me collect my stuff, which somehow ended up near her feet. "Here. Sorry again. I'm Aadya by the way. Aadya Rathore."
Rathore. Why the hell does it sound so familiar?
"Kashvi. Kashvi Singh," I quietly said, taking my stuff. "Thanks."
I was ready to bolt but made the mistake to glance at him again.
"I'm Aadyant", He said extending his hand. "Aadyant Rathore."
Aadyant Rathore. The name clicked suddenly. I'd seen it in the campus newsletter some big donation his family had made, something about royal lineage. A prince. Of course he was a prince. Girls drool over this guy. They die to date him. Practically he's the campus god.
I shaked his hand. His hand was warm. Firm grip. The kind of handshake that said he was used to meeting important people.
I pulled away after two seconds.
"Fashion major?" Aadya asked, glancing at my folder where "Fashion Design Department" was printed across the top.
"Yeah."
"That so cool. Hum dono business major mein hain. I guess I will see you around, maybe?" She spoke.
(Translation: - We're in business major.)
"Maybe," I replied.
Aadyant was still looking at me. I could feel it even though I wasn't meeting his eyes anymore.
"We should head for the orientation before it's too late." He said finally, but something in his tone made it clear he was talking to his sister, not me.
"Haan, chalo. Nice meeting you, Kashvi!" Aadya waved, already starting to walk away. (Translation: "Yeah, let's go.")
Aadyant lingered for half a second longer.
"See you around, Kashvi Singh."
The way he said my name, something was strange about it.
I didn't respond. Just turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.
I could still feel his gaze on my back.
~
I watched her walk away—hood up, shoulders hunched, moving through the crowd like she was trying to disappear into it.
Kashvi Singh.
"Bhai, chal na. We're actually going to be late now." Aadya tugged at my sleeve.
(Translation: "Brother, let's go.")
"Haan, coming."
(Translation: "Yeah.")
But I couldn't stop looking at the spot where she'd been standing.
I'd met hundreds of girls. Thousands, probably. At galas, events, functions, parties. Girls who smiled too wide, laughed too loud at things that weren't funny, found excuses to touch my arm or stand too close.
This girl had looked at me like I was an inconvenience. Like she couldn't wait to get away from me.
And for some reason I couldn't explain, that made me want to know everything about her.
"She seemed nice," Aadya said as we headed toward the main building.
"Yeah."
"Thoda shy tha, but sweet."
(Translation: "A bit shy.")
"Mm."
"You're doing that thing."
I glanced at her. "What thing?"
"That thing where you get all intense and broody. You only do it when something's caught your attention." She grinned. "She's pretty, hai na?"
(Translation: "isn't she?")
"I didn't notice."
"Liar."
She wasn't wrong.
There was something about Kashvi Singh. Something in the way she'd looked at me—or rather, in the way she'd avoided looking at me. The way her hands had shaken when she picked up those papers. The way she'd pulled away from my touch like it burned.
Like she was scared.
Or maybe just... guarded.
I didn't know why, but I wanted to find out.
"Chalo, rajkumar ji before they start without you." Aadya grabbed my arm again, pulling me toward orientation.
(Translation: - Come, Mr. Prince before they start without you.)
But even as we walked into the auditorium, even as I found our seats and half-listened to the welcome speeches, my mind kept drifting back to a girl in a leather jacket with walls so high I could practically see them.
Kashvi Singh.
Yeah.
I was definitely going to see her again.
~
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