The morning sunlight trickled through the window, golden and kind, spilling warmth across the tiled floor. The soft glow kissed the edge of the bed, casting delicate patterns on the sheets. A new day. A new chapter.
Shruti blinked awake, the faint melody of birdsong mingling with the distant hum of early traffic below. For a moment, she lay still, letting the peace of the morning settle over her. Then she turned her head slightly, gaze falling on Arjun.
There he was — sprawled across the bed as if he'd fought a war in his dreams. One arm draped lazily over his face, his hair sticking out in all directions like a boy who'd tried to comb it with his hands and given up. His breathing was slow, steady, almost musical.
She smiled without realizing it, warmth unfurling inside her like sunlight through clouds. Just days ago, this sight would've felt alien. Awkward. But now… now, he felt like home.
Shruti propped herself on one elbow, watching him a moment longer before speaking, her voice soft. "Arjun."
No response. Just a soft snore that made her grin wider.
"Arjun," she tried again, a little louder this time, stretching the word playfully. "Wake up. It's college day."
A low, reluctant groan came from under his arm. He wriggled deeper into the mattress as if it might save him. "Five more minutes… just five…"
Shruti giggled under her breath. "You said that twenty minutes ago."
"Mmm… time is a social construct…"
She rolled her eyes fondly, poking his back gently with two fingers. "You promised to drop me off, lazy boy. Don't make me drag you out of bed."
Arjun flopped onto his back dramatically, peeking at her with one bleary eye. "What if… what if you drop me off instead? I'm delicate today. Emotional damage from yesterday's horror game."
Shruti's grin widened. "I knew you'd bring that up. That ghost didn't even touch you. You screamed before it appeared."
"That's called preemptive defense," he said, trying to sound serious but failing when his lips twitched at the corners.
"Okay, okay," she said, snatching the pillow from beneath his arm and holding it hostage. "If you don't get up now, I'll tell everyone at college — seniors included — that you screamed like a little kid at a VR game."
His eyes flew open fully this time. "You wouldn't."
She raised a brow. "Try me."
"Traitor," he muttered, but finally swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his face with both hands. "You're ruthless in the mornings. I'm filing a complaint."
"File all you want. But get moving, sleepyhead." She laughed, tossing the pillow back at him.
Arjun caught it clumsily and stood, stretching like a cat. His T-shirt was wrinkled from sleep, and he scratched the back of his head, yawning like the world had betrayed him by expecting him to wake up.
As he shuffled toward the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, voice still thick with sleep, "Tell college I was attacked by a ghost in my dreams. That's why I'm late."
"I'll tell them you fainted at the sight of a pixelated ghost," she teased, opening the wardrobe.
He groaned. "You're evil."
Shruti picked out her outfit carefully — a soft sky-blue cotton kurti with delicate white embroidery along the hem, fresh and modest. She held it up, examining it, then glanced at the mirror. "Not bad, right?" she asked aloud, though Arjun was already in the bathroom, water running.
His muffled voice floated out, playful despite the distance. "You'll look perfect. As usual. Now stop fishing for compliments and hurry up — I'm supposed to be the slow one today!"
She laughed, holding the kurti against herself one last time before setting it on the bed. The morning felt lighter already — full of teasing, soft threats, and something that felt a lot like joy.
By the time Shruti tied her hair into a neat braid and pinned her crisp white dupatta in place, Arjun emerged from the bathroom, toweling his damp hair. His dark green shirt clung slightly to his shoulders, sleeves rolled just below the elbows, paired with slim-fit jeans that looked both casual and put-together.
She glanced at him, eyeing the outfit, and raised a brow in approval. "You look surprisingly decent," she said, arms crossed, voice playfully teasing.
Arjun paused mid-rub, lowering the towel to stare at her with mock offense. "Decent? Decent? Madam, this shirt cost me my will to live. And a whole day of suffering at the mall."
Shruti burst into soft laughter, adjusting her bangles as they clinked lightly. "And yet, so worth it. Because today, you're taking your maradalu to college. You have an image to uphold."
He groaned dramatically, flinging the towel onto the chair. "The sacrifices I make for this great mission. Secret husband. Secret chauffeur. Secret bodyguard."
She grinned. "And don't forget secret personal shopper. You're doing a fabulous job."
He smirked, grabbing his watch from the table. "Glad my suffering brings you joy."
Shruti stepped closer, tilting her head thoughtfully. "You remember our story, right? Bava. Guntur. New to the city. Simple."
Arjun fastened the strap of his watch, eyes twinkling. "Say it again. I want to hear how smoothly you lie now."
With exaggerated pride, she placed a hand over her heart. "I am your beloved maradalu, straight from the mighty land of Guntur. Here to study, eat, and generate unnecessary drama in the colony."
He chuckled, slinging both their bags over his shoulder. "Brilliant. You're getting full marks in our secret-marriage syllabus."
She mock-pouted. "I better. I've got a lifetime of practice ahead, don't I?"
"Lifetime probation," he said, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "Come on, little drama queen. Let's get this undercover mission started."
They made their way downstairs, the hum of morning life filling the air — the soft scrape of a broom as a neighbour swept her porch, the echo of utensils from a kitchen window, the rhythmic honk of an auto weaving through the narrow lane, a tea seller's voice rising above it all: "Chai, chai, garam chai!"
Arjun handed her a sleek black helmet. "Here. Helmet first. Guntur girls have to follow city safety rules too."
Shruti took it, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "Look at you. Responsible and decent-looking. Is this a trick?"
He fastened his own helmet, grinning. "Every day with me is a surprise package."
She adjusted the helmet over her braid. "I'm bracing myself already."
As he swung his leg over the bike and kicked it to life, the engine's low rumble filled the air. Arjun glanced back at her, eyes kind beneath the visor. "Ready?"
Shruti swallowed the nervous flutter in her chest, inhaling the cool morning breeze. "Ready-ish."
He laughed softly. "Close enough."
She slid onto the seat behind him, her hands hesitating a moment before resting lightly on his shoulders. As the bike rolled onto the street, the wind tugged at her dupatta, the cool air brushing against her cheeks, the city unfolding before them — bustling vendors, students with bags slung over shoulders, the scent of fresh idlis from roadside stalls.
Shruti closed her eyes for a heartbeat, heart steadying.
New city. New college. New life.
But with him — the boy she barely knew, yet somehow trusted — the unknown didn't feel quite so terrifying.
As they neared the college gates, the campus came alive in bursts of sound and color. The air buzzed with familiar excitement — bikes honking as students weaved in through the entrance, friends calling out to one another across the quad, laughter ringing between the sunlit buildings. The chatter, the rush, the chaos of the first bell not yet sounded.
Shruti felt the weight of it all settle onto her shoulders. She tightened her grip on Arjun's shirt for a second without even realizing it.
"I feel like everyone's going to look at us weird," she whispered, voice barely audible over the noise.
Arjun shot her a quick glance, amused. "They will."
Her heart jumped. "What? Why?!"
"But not for the reason you think," he added, smirking.
Shruti's brows knit together. "What reason then?"
"Because you'll look like a terrified fresher clinging to a calm senior. They'll assume I'm either mentoring you…" — his grin widened — "or emotionally blackmailing you into writing my records and assignments."
Despite the nerves churning in her stomach, she let out a shaky laugh. "Thanks for the reassurance. Really helpful."
As they rolled into the parking area, Arjun skillfully maneuvered the bike into an empty slot beneath a wide peepal tree. The morning sun dappled through the leaves, casting patterns on the ground.
Shruti unclipped her helmet, fingers fumbling a bit as she slid it off, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears.
Across the lot, a group of guys — seniors by the look of them — lounged lazily on a low boundary wall, half-eaten sandwiches and mobile phones in hand. The moment they spotted Arjun, interest flickered in their eyes.
"Arrey Arjun!" one of them called out, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "New girl aa? Who's this?"
Shruti froze mid-step. Heat crept up her neck. The first real test.
Arjun didn't hesitate. Cool as ever, he slung one arm casually over her shoulder, pulling her just a little closer, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
"My maradalu, ra," he said with that easy confidence that made her want to both glare at him and thank him at the same time. "Just joined. First year. Guntur batch."
The boys exchanged looks.
"Ohooo!" one of them whistled, nudging the guy beside him. "Guntur batch! Special import, ah?"
Another laughed. "Bro, Arjun bringing maradalu as a fresher — what a start to the year!"
Shruti shot Arjun a sideways look, half mortified, half curious. "Did he just whistle at me or you?"
"At me," Arjun said immediately, deadpan.
"Clearly impressed I managed to bring a maradalu who doesn't run away from me."
She snorted. "If they knew the truth, they'd be interviewing me for bravery awards."
"Hey, don't ruin my street cred." He grinned, removing his helmet and running a hand through his hair.
As they walked away from the bike, Shruti could feel eyes following them. A few students paused in their conversations, watching the pair with open curiosity.
"Who's she?" someone whispered near the entrance.
"Some Guntur girl, I heard. His maradalu apparently."
"No way. Since when does Arjun bring relatives to college?"
"Maybe she's more than just maradalu, ra. See how protective he looks?"
Shruti's ears burned at the hushed commentary. She kept her eyes ahead, trying to focus on the steps leading up to the building, but the weight of their stares clung to her like humidity.
A girl sitting on the edge of a planter nudged her friend. "She's pretty. But quiet. Poor thing looks terrified."
"I would be too, if I walked in with him," the friend giggled.
Shruti muttered under her breath, "I'm going to get famous on my first day for the wrong reasons."
Arjun caught it, smirking. "Infamous. There's a difference. And this is me being subtle, by the way."
"Subtle?" She rolled her eyes. "If this is subtle, I don't want to see you in full form."
"Full form involves at least one public declaration of how amazing my maradalu is. I'm saving that for week two."
She groaned. "Arjun!"
They passed through the main gates, the campus opening up before them — trees swaying in the breeze, students clustered near the canteen, lecturers striding purposefully toward the departments.
Shruti took a deep breath, feeling the nerves settle just a little.
Everything was big. Everything was new. But beside her, Arjun walked like he belonged. Like this place was his second skin.
And somehow, with every joke, every nudge, every easy grin — he made her feel like maybe she could belong too.
To be continued...