"Ready to take over the world, maradalu?" he asked, eyes glinting with mischief.
She smiled, heart steadier now. "Let's just start with surviving the first day."
"Fair enough," he said, steering her toward the admin block. "World domination can wait till after lunch."
"You're going to be fine," Arjun said as they neared the administrative block, his voice dropping to that familiar reassuring tone that made her nerves settle a little. "Classes will be boring. People will stare. Some seniors might act smart. Just ignore the idiots."
Shruti sighed, adjusting her dupatta. "I'll try. But if I slap a senior by accident, you're covering for me."
He grinned. "I'll print T-shirts that say My maradalu has anger issues."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.
"Also…" Arjun leaned in, his shoulder brushing hers lightly as he whispered, "Don't forget we're cousins. Don't accidentally smile at me like a wife in front of the wrong people."
Shruti blinked at him, wide-eyed, mock-offended. "But I'm your maradalu, right? I'm allowed to smile sweetly at my bava. It's culturally approved."
Arjun gave her a mock-serious look, tilting his head as if contemplating. "There's a sweet and there's suspiciously sweet. Safe zone only. No extra sugar."
Shruti smirked, crossing her arms. "Fine. I'll practice my 'bava-approved' smile. Just for you."
He chuckled. "Yes, please. And don't look at me like I saved the world every time I help you find your classroom."
She snorted. "Yes, bava," she said, dragging out the word in exaggerated sweetness that made him shake his head.
"Drama queen," he muttered fondly.
And with that, they split up for their classes — Arjun bounding up the stairs two at a time toward his second-year classroom, and Shruti clutching her file as she navigated toward the orientation hall, nerves fluttering again in her stomach.
She had barely taken a few steps when she heard it.
"Shrutiiiiiiii!"
The voice rang out above the buzz of the crowd, warm and familiar. Shruti froze for half a second, then spun around, her face lighting up in a way that not even Arjun had managed that morning.
"Pragathi!" she exclaimed.
The two girls practically ran the remaining steps toward each other and hugged tightly, swaying side to side as if to squeeze out all the months of missed conversations. Their laughter mingled with the morning air, easy and bright.
"Oh my god," Pragathi said, pulling back to scan Shruti from head to toe with a dramatic flourish. "First day of college and you look like you walked straight out of Tollywood Brides Monthly. Look at you! Miss Model!"
Shruti laughed, swatting her arm lightly. "Shut up! It's just a kurti."
Pragathi raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "That kurti is doing things, okay? And don't think I didn't notice you didn't call me last night. Betrayal! I was waiting, phone in hand like some desperate heroine."
Shruti giggled, biting her lip. "I was… busy."
Pragathi gasped, eyes wide with playful shock. "Busy? Busy?! You mean — wink wink — busy being a wife?"
Shruti's cheeks turned pink. "Pragathi! Not like that. I meant... there was so much to do — packing, getting ready, settling in…"
Pragathi wasn't buying it. She nudged Shruti's arm with a grin. "Must be fun, though. I saw him, you know. Your Bava. The guy looks like he walked out of a Telugu movie poster. I still can't believe you married him! You lucky witch."
Shruti groaned, covering her face for a second. "Can you not say it so loud? The whole corridor doesn't need to know my life story."
Pragathi leaned in conspiratorially. "Too late. People are already staring because you look like a heroine. Now they'll stare because of the mystery husband-bava combo."
Shruti peeked through her fingers, half-laughing, half-dying of embarrassment. "I hate you."
"No, you love me," Pragathi said cheerfully, looping her arm through Shruti's. "Now come on, Mrs. Secret Marriage. Orientation's going to be boring, so you better tell me everything before I fall asleep in there."
Shruti shook her head but let herself be pulled along, already feeling lighter with her friend at her side.
Behind them, a few students watched curiously.
"Who's that girl with Pragathi?" one whispered.
"No idea. But didn't she come with that Arjun senior just now?"
"Arjun's maradalu, apparently," another said, smirking. "Big family drama material."
Shruti caught snippets of the murmurs, but this time, she didn't care as much. With Pragathi teasing her on one side and Arjun's encouraging thumbs-up still fresh in her mind, she stepped into her new world a little braver than before.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the courtyard, Arjun strolled toward his group — Kiran, Ramesh, and two others, all clustered around a worn cement bench, their breakfast of oily samosas and steaming filter coffee balanced precariously on their laps. The scent of fried batter mingled with the morning air.
"Ah, look who's here — Vizag's most eligible bachelor turned family man!" Kiran declared, waving his hand dramatically like he was announcing a celebrity. "Arjun, the husband of the year!"
Arjun smirked, sliding his backpack off his shoulder. "If you open your mouth any wider, Kiran, flies might start renting space in there."
Ramesh laughed, nearly spilling his coffee. "Relax, Arjun. We're just happy to see you survived your first week of marriage. So? How's married life? Blissful? Exhausting? Are you already sleeping on the couch?"
Arjun plucked a samosa from Kiran's newspaper and took a bite. "You lot should worry about passing this semester instead of my bedroom arrangements."
Kiran clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Heartless! We plan rose-filled surprises for your wedding night, and this is how you thank us?"
Arjun shot him a look. "Rose thorns, you mean. My back looked like it had a fight with a porcupine, thanks to you idiots."
Ramesh chuckled. "That was Kiran's idea. He said it'd be romantic!"
"Romantic, my foot," Arjun muttered. He jabbed Kiran lightly in the ribs. "Next time, try creating ambiance that doesn't involve first-aid kits."
Kiran groaned, rubbing his side. "Yaar, violence is not the answer."
"Neither is sadism," Arjun shot back, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.
But as the banter continued, Arjun's attention wavered. His eyes drifted across the courtyard, where Shruti stood with Pragathi, both of them laughing at something, their heads close together. The sunlight caught in Shruti's braid, the curve of her smile warm and real. His heart softened without him meaning it to.
Ramesh nudged him, following his gaze. "There. See? Gone case. This is what marriage does. Turns strong men into softies."
Arjun didn't bother replying, too focused on the sight ahead.
But then his eyes narrowed.
Near the entrance of the Commerce Block, a group of seniors loitered with the typical air of bored mischief. One of them, tall, gym-toned, sporting a half-burnt cigarette behind his ear and a swagger that screamed trouble, peeled away from the group and sauntered toward Shruti and Pragathi.
Kiran noticed too, chewing his samosa more slowly now. "Uh-oh. Senior sighting. Should we call campus security or just watch the drama like a live movie?"
Arjun took a step forward instinctively, tension in his shoulders.
Kiran grabbed his arm. "Arrey, wait! Don't go full hero mode already. Let's see what happens. What if he's just asking for directions?"
Ramesh smirked. "Yeah, or offering them friendship bands."
Arjun shrugged off Kiran's grip gently but kept his feet planted for the moment, eyes sharp. "If he tries anything beyond 'directions,' I swear you'll see hero mode."
Kiran grinned, nudging Ramesh. "You're about to witness the great Arjun Bava transformation. From calm senior to protective husband in under ten seconds."
Ramesh mimed holding a stopwatch. "Ready? And… go!"
The senior swaggered closer, flashing a grin that made Arjun's fists itch.
"Bet he says something cheesy like 'Hi fresher, lost or just lucky I found you,'" Kiran muttered.
Arjun didn't answer — he was too focused on every step that senior took toward Shruti.
And the courtyard seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the scene to unfold.
"The senior leaned in a little too close, his breath reeking of cheap cigarettes and overconfidence. "Well, well," he drawled, his eyes shamelessly raking over Shruti. "Pink suits you. But I think you'd look even better in something shorter. Something... tighter."
Shruti froze, her pulse thudding in her ears. She took a small step back instinctively, but Pragathi moved forward like a shield.
"Move. Now," Pragathi said, her voice low, steady, and dangerous.
The senior's smirk widened, undeterred. "Oho, attitude? I like spicy girls. Makes the chase more fun."
Pragathi crossed her arms, standing her ground. "Keep liking them. From a distance."
He let out a mocking laugh, glancing over his shoulder at his gang for approval. "Why don't you come with me, huh? I'll give you a real tour of campus. You can hold my hand... or maybe more, if you're brave enough."
Shruti's hands clenched into fists at her sides. Pragathi's jaw tightened.
"Last warning," Pragathi said, her tone dropping heavier, sharper. "Turn. Around. Now."
But the senior stepped closer, his tone turning lewd. "What's the problem, babe? I'm just saying — let's have some fun. You can give me some service... mental, physical... whatever you feel like. Don't play hard to get. Let's go—"
THWACK.
Pragathi's knee shot up with precision honed by years of self-defense classes she'd never bragged about. It landed square between his legs.
The smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a strangled gasp. The senior collapsed to the ground like a deflated balloon, groaning and clutching himself, eyes bulging in shock and pain.
Across the courtyard, Kiran visibly winced, holding his samosa like it might shield him from the impact. "Bro, I felt that. Through my soul."
Ramesh let out a low whistle. "That's gonna leave a scar on his family tree."
The senior's friends, stunned for a heartbeat, suddenly snapped out of it. Their faces twisted with fury, and they started toward the girls, fists clenched.
"Eh! Who do you think you are?!" one shouted.
"Are you mad, girl?!" another barked, shoving past a bench, his tone rising with bravado as he stepped closer.
Then the air changed.
A hush seemed to fall, like the courtyard itself was holding its breath. A long shadow stretched across the girls, cutting into the sunlight. Shruti felt it before she saw it—the shift, the weight of someone stepping into the space like they owned it.
She turned slowly. Her heart skipped.
Arjun.
He wasn't rushing. He wasn't yelling. He just stood there, silent and still, his presence louder than any words. His eyes were unreadable, his jaw locked tight. The sun caught the edge of his face, casting a golden glow that made him look untouchable. Like the hero of some old story, stepping forward when it mattered most.
Shruti's breath hitched. For a moment, she forgot they were at college. Forgot the crowd. Forgot even Pragathi. All she could feel was him—solid, certain, hers.
The seniors froze mid-step. Their confidence faltered. The swagger drained from their faces as Arjun's gaze landed on them, cold and sharp like a blade.
He tilted his head slightly, the movement slow, controlled. "Take one more step toward them," his voice low, steady, and dangerous, "and I'll break every finger you ever dared point at them."
His words weren't shouted. They didn't need to be. The quiet threat in them was enough to make the seniors go pale.
One of the boys swallowed hard. "Chill, man. We don't want trouble."
The one who had barked before stepped back, his voice cracking as he muttered, "No problem, bro. It was just... a joke."
Arjun's eyes narrowed further. "I don't see anyone laughing."
The senior on the ground whimpered again, clutching himself as his friends scrambled to grab him by the arms, dragging him away. Their bravado dissolved completely, leaving behind only embarrassment and fear.
As they retreated, Arjun didn't move. He stood like a wall until they disappeared behind the Commerce block.
Then his shoulders eased—just a little. His eyes softened as they met Shruti's. His voice dropped to a murmur, warm but firm. "Go to class."
Shruti opened her mouth, then closed it, nodding because her throat felt too tight to speak. Her legs wobbled as she turned to leave, Pragathi falling into step beside her.
"Shruti..." Pragathi whispered, still half-stunned. "Your husband just looked like a mafia boss straight out of a movie. That was... cool. Like... really cool."
Shruti managed a small, shy smile, pride blooming inside her like sunshine. "Yeah," she breathed. "He's mine."
Pragathi grinned, nudging her. "Forget first impressions. You just became a campus legend. No one's messing with you after this."
As they walked, Shruti glanced over her shoulder one last time. Arjun stood where they'd left him, watching until he was sure they were safe. His fists were still clenched, his breathing slow, controlled—but inside, he felt a protectiveness so fierce, so primal, it startled even him.
Kiran appeared at his side, whistling low. "Bro... remind me never to tick you off. That look? Deadly."
Arjun didn't answer. His eyes stayed on Shruti until she disappeared into the building. Only then did he exhale, the storm in him quieting.
"She's safe. That's all that matters," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
And with that, he finally turned, his usual smirk creeping back, as if nothing had happened at all.
To be continued...