"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.
A hush fell over the grounds. The clatter of dishes in the canteen, the shuffle of feet, even the cawing of a crow on a nearby tree seemed to fade into silence. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Conversations died mid-sentence as every person within earshot turned to look—first at her, then up at him.
On the second-floor balcony, Arjun froze. His hand was halfway through pushing up his sleeve, fingers stilling mid-motion. His brows drew together in confusion, lips parting slightly.
His eyes scanned the crowd like he wasn't sure he'd heard right. Then he pointed to himself, the smallest, almost comical gesture.
"Me?" his voice was quiet, but the disbelief rang clear.
Shruti grinned and nodded, eyes twinkling. "Yeah. You. Come here."
A low murmur rippled through the students like a wave gaining momentum.
"Is she mad?"
"Did she just summon Arjun like he's her personal assistant?"
"Bro… I need to sit down. I'm gonna faint."
Saranya's teasing smile faltered into something more stunned. Even she, queen of harmless dares, hadn't seen that coming.
Pragathi's jaw dropped before she clamped a hand over her mouth to hide her giggle. She leaned in toward Shruti, whispering fast, "I'm telling you, you just made the highlight reel of college history. They're gonna talk about this till we graduate."
Arjun blinked, trying to process. His ears turned a shade of pink as the weight of dozens of eyes settled on him. But, composed as ever, he straightened his shirt, adjusted his sleeves, and began descending the stairs.
His pace was unhurried — calm on the outside, but his heartbeat thundered in his chest. Every step echoed like a drumbeat. The whispers grew louder, excitement crackling in the air.
"She called him like that?"
"Dude, this is better than Netflix."
"I'm not missing this for anything."
By the time he reached the last step, the entire courtyard felt like a theater where the spotlight was firmly on them. Arjun stopped just a foot or two from Shruti, gaze locked on hers.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice soft, trying and failing to hide the warmth flooding his cheeks. His eyes flicked around—students openly staring, some pretending to look at their phones while sneaking glances, lecturers watching from a distance with raised brows.
Shruti tilted her head, all mock innocence. "Bend a little."
He lifted a brow. "You're short."
"Arjun!" she hissed under her breath, though the edges of her mouth quirked in amusement. "Don't make me jump and do it. That'll be more dramatic."
He exhaled slowly, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips despite himself. "You're unbelievable," he muttered, but bent slightly anyway.
Shruti lifted her hand with a kind of tenderness that made his heart stutter. She brushed back the strands of his hair the wind had tousled, her fingers warm against his temple, her touch gentle but sure. The world fell away in that small gesture.
"There. It looked messy," she said softly, as though they were the only two people on earth.
Arjun swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "Messy, huh…"
Her fingers lingered a heartbeat longer, smoothing down the last stubborn lock.
"You can go now," she added, smiling up at him like this was just another morning at home. That smile — it could've melted steel.
Arjun straightened slowly, his ears red, his mind spinning. He nodded, words failing him for once, and turned, making his way back toward the steps. His friends at the top of the balcony watched in stunned silence before breaking into wild grins.
"Bro, what just happened?!" Kiran called, barely able to contain his laughter.
Pragathi elbowed Shruti lightly as the crowd began to buzz again, everyone bursting into chatter. "You… are a queen. An actual queen. Did you see his face?"
Shruti folded her arms, cheeks warm, heart racing, but her grin didn't falter. "I saw it. And I'll see it again tomorrow."
And as Arjun climbed the steps again, students patting his back and teasing him mercilessly, he couldn't wipe the dazed, foolish smile off his face.
"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered, but the warmth in his chest told him — he didn't mind one bit.
Someone gasped—loud enough to make heads snap around.
Another girl near Saranya choked on her drink, sputtering, "WHAT?! No, no, no, rewind. Did that just happen?"
"I think…" one girl clutched her chest, voice shaky, eyes wide as saucers, "I just witnessed the female lead moment of the year. The decade. No, ever."
"Did she tame Arjun?" another whispered like she was speaking of a mythic beast. "Did I really see that?"
The guys at a distance weren't spared from the shock either.
"Bro…" one muttered, voice filled with disbelief, "did she… did she just fix his hair?"
"And he let her?" another echoed, as if trying to confirm that the earth still spun the right way.
"No, man. No way. That guy doesn't even let his friends touch his bike without glaring at them. His hair?! His hair?!"
Back near the seniors, the usually unshakable Saranya blinked, caught in a rare moment of visible surprise. Her cool composure cracked just enough for the awe and confusion to seep through.
Her voice dropped lower, softer, as she studied Shruti like seeing her for the first time.
"…How is he related to you?"
Shruti, still calm despite the storm she'd unleashed, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, straightened her shoulders, and met Saranya's gaze head-on. There was no malice, just a sweetness laced with quiet pride.
"He's my bava," she said, her voice as gentle as it was earth-shattering.
For a second, all sound seemed to vanish.
And then—
"HER WHAT?!" a girl shrieked, clutching her friend's arm like she might fall.
"No. No. I'm not hearing this right. Tell me I didn't hear that right!"
"She said bava. She said bava," another girl whispered in horror, as if repeating it would change the truth.
"Like… cousin-bava?" one girl croaked, eyes darting between Shruti and the stairs Arjun had just ascended.
"Like… marriage-material bava? Childhood-friends-turned-lovers bava? Tollywood-dream-plot bava?"
"I CAN'T!" someone wailed, dramatically collapsing onto the lawn. "Why is life like this? Why is the universe so unfair?!"
"I've been crushing on him since first year!" one senior groaned, smacking her forehead. "I would've sold my soul just to get a smile. A smile! And she—she brushes his hair back like they're already married. Help me, God."
Another girl shook her head in wonder. "He looked like he belonged to her. The way he came down those stairs? That wasn't bava vibes. That was possessive husband energy. I swear."
"Arjun's a whole Tollywood hero in real life, and she's got the lead role," someone muttered, sounding both impressed and heartbroken.
Pragathi, cool as ever, casually popped the last piece of samosa into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and leaned toward Shruti's ear. Her grin was pure mischief.
"You… sadist," she whispered, eyes twinkling. "You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you? You unleashed a storm for fun."
Shruti bit down on her lip, trying—failing—to hide the victorious smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. But her eyes gave her away, sparkling like a girl who held the best-kept secret in the world.
Saranya, meanwhile, stood still, her gaze lingering on Shruti. For a long heartbeat, no one spoke. The buzz of the crowd faded in the background. In Saranya's eyes, there wasn't jealousy anymore. There was something deeper—an understanding, a recognition, maybe even respect.
She inhaled slowly, let out a quiet breath, and nodded, almost to herself.
"…I get it now," she murmured, voice so soft only Shruti and Pragathi could hear.
Pragathi raised a brow, watching her with new curiosity.
The chaos around them continued—girls gossiping in rapid Telugu, boys whispering and gawking, juniors taking mental notes, seniors shaking their heads in amused disbelief—but in that small circle, a strange new peace settled.
Saranya gave Shruti a final, lingering smile. Not one of defeat, but of silent acceptance. A small, almost sisterly acknowledgment.
"You're braver than I thought," she added, then turned away, blending back into her group, leaving behind a swirl of whispers and awestruck stares.
And Shruti? She stood tall, a storm in her wake, knowing Arjun would always come when she called.
And with that, the bell rang again — sharp, insistent, like the universe itself decided it was time for an intermission, a pause before the next act of this unexpected drama.
The spell broke. The murmurs and stares didn't stop, but Shruti's friends wasted no time. They grabbed her arms, tugging her away from the steps, their excitement spilling over like soda shaken too hard.
"Shruti!" one of them gasped, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered curiosity. "How long have you known him? Tell us everything. Right now. I need details!"
Another clutched her by the wrist. "Do you guys always talk like that at home too? Like... like some cute couple in a web series?"
A third one, nearly tripping over her own feet as they hurried inside, asked, "Does he always listen to you like a trained puppy? That was unreal. He came down the stairs like you rang a magic bell."
Shruti tried to laugh it off, her cheeks warm. "It's not like that! We just… we're close. That's all."
Pragathi snorted, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Close? Girl, if that's 'close,' I don't want to imagine what your definition of 'madly in love' looks like."
One of the girls spun in front of them, walking backward so she could face Shruti. "Wait, wait, wait. Is he single or not? Are you two… you know… a thing?"
Shruti opened her mouth, searching for the right balance of truth and the story they were sticking to. "He's my bava. That's all."
"That's all?!" someone squealed. "Do you know how many of us dream of a bava like that?! Are you sure you're not secretly engaged?"
Pragathi held up a hand like a traffic cop. "Okay, enough. Let the girl breathe, people! She just survived the biggest first-day headline this college has seen all year."
Then, turning to Shruti with a teasing grin, she added, "But you're buying us samosas tomorrow. Minimum two plates. As payment. For keeping your precious secret safe from the rumor mills. Deal?"
Shruti finally let herself grin, the weight of the moment giving way to the lightness of their chatter. "Deal. Samosas on me. But if Arjun finds out you're blackmailing me for food, you're explaining it to him."
Pragathi winked. "Oh, I'll explain. Over tea. While plotting your next public display of bava power."
Their laughter echoed down the corridor, and as they walked back to class, the chaos they left behind felt less like gossip and more like glitter — a trail of wonder in their wake.
To be continued...