The morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the classroom, bathing the room in gentle warmth, as if the day itself conspired to make Shruti glow a little brighter. The soft rays caught in her hair, highlighting strands like threads of gold. Shruti sat in her usual spot by the wall, her notebook open but untouched, the pen resting idly between her fingers. Her thoughts floated far from the monotonous lecture on Industrial Psychology. The professor's voice, steady and unchanging, became little more than background noise to the reel of memories playing in her mind.
Arjun's grin as he struggled with the console wires. The way he mock-glared when she teased him about the broken PlayStation. His quiet, unspoken support in the kitchen. The comfort of standing beside him without needing to say much at all.
"Shruti," Meera whispered, leaning in with a wicked glint in her eyes, "your hair looks like you stepped out of a shampoo commercial today."
Shruti blinked, drawn back from her thoughts, and let out a soft laugh. "It's just air-dried. And possibly the magic of actually sleeping for once."
Meera smirked, flicking a loose strand of Shruti's hair playfully. "Liar. Don't think we didn't notice the extra glow."
"Seriously," Keerthi chimed in from behind, her voice low but excited. "People were staring when you walked in. Like, 'who's this heroine making a campus entry' kind of staring. You were glowing like—" she paused dramatically, grinning, "—like a newlywed."
Shruti groaned softly, dropping her head onto her notebook for a second. "Don't you two have anything better to do than analyse my face?"
"Nope," Meera said cheerfully. "This is our entertainment."
Keerthi snickered. "Come on, admit it. You're thinking about him, aren't you? Arjun. That hair-stroking scene is still fresh in everyone's mind."
Shruti lifted her head just enough to glare half-heartedly. "It wasn't a scene. I was just fixing his hair."
Meera wiggled her brows. "With your fingers."
"And the look on his face?" Keerthi added, fanning herself dramatically. "I swear, even the seniors were shook. The boy who doesn't even blink at girls lets Shruti touch his hair like they're in some slow-mo romantic track."
Shruti tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, but failed. "You two are impossible."
"You love it," Meera teased.
Keerthi leaned forward, resting her chin on Shruti's shoulder. "Tell us, tell us—what does he text you? Is he a 'good morning, sunshine' type? Or a 'had lunch?' type?"
Shruti rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her grin. "None of the above. He mostly sends memes. Or complains about Kiran."
Both girls burst into muffled giggles.
"Memes!" Meera gasped. "That's even cuter! You've tamed the cold prince, and now he's sending memes!"
"Okay, stop," Shruti said, but the warmth in her voice betrayed how much she didn't actually want them to stop.
Keerthi nudged her arm. "So, when's the next hair-stroking session? Tell us so we can grab popcorn."
Shruti covered her face with her hands. "Please. You're going to get me thrown out of class at this rate."
Meera grinned, glancing at the lecturer who was blissfully unaware of their hushed chatter. "Relax. Even sir probably ships you two at this point."
Shruti peeked through her fingers, heart thudding with a mix of embarrassment and delight. As her friends' quiet laughter rippled around her, she couldn't help but think—this madness, this teasing, this warmth... it felt good. Like belonging. Like happiness peeking through the cracks of uncertainty.
And somewhere beneath all the blushes and banter, she knew: they weren't wrong. Arjun had slipped into her thoughts more easily than she ever intended.
---
Afternoon – Lunch Break
The campus was alive with its usual mid-day rhythm—groups gathered under trees, lunchboxes open, conversations overlapping like music on shuffle. Shruti sat quietly under the neem tree, idly picking at the lemon rice in her tiffin. Her fingers moved slowly, distracted. Her mind wasn't on food or even the noise around her—it was somewhere else entirely, tangled in the way Arjun had looked at her that morning, in the feel of his fingertips brushing hers as they passed each other the game controller last night. In the silence they'd shared that wasn't empty, but filled with something unspoken.
That's when she heard her name, soft and hesitant.
"Shruti?"
She turned. Saranya stood a few feet away, her school bag slung over one shoulder, hands clutching the strap. Her eyes weren't cold—just serious.
Shruti blinked. "Hey… yeah?"
"Can we talk for a bit? Just the two of us?"
There was no malice in her voice. Just a strange, vulnerable calm.
Shruti hesitated only a second, then nodded. She closed her tiffin, brushing off her hands and adjusting her dupatta as she stood. "Sure."
They walked away from the bustle—past the library wing, down the quieter lane behind the arts block. A side staircase led to an old corner of the building where few students lingered anymore. Sunlight slanted in through tall, dusty windows, pooling across cracked tiles and aged wooden benches.
Saranya stopped near the wall, folding her arms. She took a slow breath. "I'm sorry if this is awkward… but I needed to ask you something."
Shruti leaned against the railing, waiting.
"Do you… like Arjun?"
To be continued...