The first day of college smelled like wet notebooks and nervous ambition.
Arjun arrived early, not because he was disciplined, but because anxiety had woken him before his alarm.
He walked into the lecture hall and chose a seat near the window — a safe place. From there, he could look outside if things became overwhelming.
Students trickled in like scattered rain.
Laughter too loud. Introductions too eager. Friendships forming at unnatural speed.
He pretended to scroll his phone.
Then she sat beside him.
No warning. No ceremony.
Just a girl dropping her bag on the desk and exhaling like she'd outrun the world.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked — after already taking it.
Arjun blinked. "No."
"Good," she said. "I hate sitting alone."
He nodded, unsure if a response was required.
She turned to him, smiling like conversations were her natural habitat.
"I'm Mira."
"Arjun."
She extended her hand. He hesitated a second too long before shaking it.
Her grip was warm. Confident.
"You look terrified," she observed casually.
"I'm not," he lied.
She laughed.
"You're shaking."
He looked down. His fingers were, in fact, trembling.
"This place is too loud," he admitted.
She leaned closer and whispered:
"Then we'll make our own quiet."
The sentence settled between them like a secret pact.
The professor arrived. The room surrendered to silence.
But Arjun barely heard the lecture.
He noticed the way Mira took notes — fast, messy, determined. The way she tapped her pen when thinking. The way she pushed her hair back absentmindedly every three minutes.
Small details.
But small things build futures.
Halfway through class, she slid her notebook toward him.
Written in the margin:
Surviving?
He wrote back:
Barely.
She drew a tiny victory flag beside it.
Something in his chest loosened.
For the first time that morning, the room didn't feel hostile.
It felt shared.
After class, chaos resumed. Students rushed out like a dam breaking.
Mira stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.
"Well," she said, "we didn't die."
"Success," Arjun replied.
She grinned.
"See you tomorrow, window seat partner."
Before he could respond, she disappeared into the crowd.
But the space beside him remained warm.
He sat there a moment longer, staring at the empty chair.
Strange, he thought.
How quickly a stranger can rearrange a day.
Outside, the campus buzzed with beginnings .
Inside, something quieter had already started.
Not love.
Not yet.
Just recognition.
The rare comfort of finding someone who makes a new place feel less new.
And sometimes,
that's where every great story begins.