As they began heading back toward the building, hands still sticky from the last bits of samosa crumbs they'd licked off their fingers, hearts light and full from laughter, Shruti and her friends strolled lazily, the warmth of the afternoon sun clinging to their skin.
"Those were the best samosas I've ever had," Neha declared, wiping her fingers on a tissue, though the oil stains on her dupatta told a different story.
Pragathi grinned. "Worth the elbow fights at the canteen."
But just as they reached the foot of the building's wide steps, a voice floated over, confident and smooth.
"Hey! Shruti, right?"
The group turned. A cluster of senior girls lounged on the steps like they owned them, books forgotten in their laps, phones idle in their hands. The one in the center had an undeniable presence — tall, poised, with long hair braided over one shoulder and a glint of mischief in her eyes.
"Come here," she called, lips curved in a playful half-smile. "Bring your friends."
Shruti and the others exchanged looks. Sushma raised a brow. Divya whispered, "Should we?"
Pragathi nudged Shruti lightly. "It's fine. That's Saranya. She's cool — strict but fair. Her gang gives funny dares, no creepy ragging."
Gathering their courage, the girls walked over, falling into a loose half-circle around the seniors.
Saranya crossed her arms, the sunlight catching the subtle gold threadwork on her kurti. Her gaze swept over Shruti, warm but teasing. "New girl, huh? You handled the morning's drama well. That kick? Your friend here—" she gestured at Pragathi "—has got guts."
Pragathi gave a sheepish grin. "I don't tolerate nonsense."
Saranya smirked. "Neither do I. Which is why I like your energy."
Shruti stood quietly, heart thudding, unsure where this was headed.
"Okay," Saranya continued, voice turning lilting and playful. "Since it's your first day and you've made quite the entrance, I have a dare for you."
Shruti blinked. "A dare?"
"Yes." Saranya tilted her head slightly, that glint of mischief deepening. "See up there?" She pointed subtly with her chin toward the second-floor corridor, where the breeze tugged at the curtains and rustled stray papers on windowsills.
Shruti followed her gaze — and froze.
Arjun.
He stood at the railing, leaning casually, one arm resting across the cool metal, his shirt sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his forearms, his hair tousled by the wind. He wasn't laughing, wasn't talking to anyone. His eyes… they were locked on her.
The world seemed to narrow.
Saranya's voice softened, touched with something almost fond. "That's Arjun. Our Arjun. He means a lot here. You probably figured that already."
Shruti tore her gaze away with effort. "I… I know."
Pragathi stepped closer, whispering so only Shruti could hear. "That's her. Saranya — she's the girl from that story I told you. The one Arjun defended."
Shruti looked at Saranya anew — the quiet strength in her stance, the kindness behind the teasing. And she saw it then: the way Saranya's eyes lingered on Arjun. Not just admiration. Not just gratitude. But a softness, a story untold. A wish, perhaps, that had stayed folded away like a letter never sent.
Shruti's respect deepened instantly. Here was someone who had been saved — and who, in a way, still carried that moment like a sacred memory.
Saranya's smile grew, playful again, but her tone stayed gentle. "Your dare, Shruti? Go up there. Walk right up to him… and ruffle his hair. Let's see if the great Arjun can be distracted for once."
The other senior girls giggled, clearly entertained by the idea.
Sushma's eyes went wide. "No way! He'll kill her with one look!"
Divya laughed nervously. "Or he'll faint from shock."
Shruti felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Ruffle his hair? Really?"
Saranya winked. "Really. Trust me — he won't mind. And I want to see if anyone can break that unshakable cool of his. Think of it as your welcome gift to this college."
Pragathi grinned. "Go on, Shruti. If anyone can pull it off, it's you."
Shruti bit her lip, heart pounding in her ears, glancing back at Arjun, who was still watching, still waiting.
"I swear," Shruti muttered to her friends, "if I die today, you're all coming to haunt him with me."
The group burst into laughter, the tension easing just a little, as Shruti took a deep breath, gathering the courage to face not just a dare — but the boy who already owned her heart.
But Shruti didn't move at first. She stood there, that familiar impish glint in her eye, her smirk growing wider. The seniors watched, waiting for her to take a step, but instead, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out casually—
"Arjun!"
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was just… natural. Like she'd called him a thousand times before. Like they were standing alone at home instead of on a campus swarming with students.
And in that instant, the world paused.
To be continued...