The morning sun fell softly across St. Xavier's College, a place where dreams and debates shared the same corridor.
Students moved in a rush — banners, pamphlets, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.
Amid the chaos stood Ananya Menon, dressed in a plain white kurta, her dupatta fluttering as she pinned a charity poster on the notice board:
"Blood Donation Drive – Together We Can Save Lives."
Her calm eyes reflected sincerity, not ambition.
To her, helping people wasn't politics. It was purpose.
"Ananya! You're early again," her best friend Meera called out, carrying two cups of tea.
"You should run for the student council this year. You actually care!"
Ananya smiled. "Politics divides people, Meera. I just want to help without choosing sides."
But that year, choosing sides wasn't optional.
A loud cheer erupted from the opposite end of the corridor.
A group of boys entered, holding flags of the Youth National Front (YNF) — the student wing of the ruling party.
At the center of it all walked Aarav Rathore — tall, sharp-featured, dressed in black jeans and a confident smirk.
His voice carried command, his presence demanded attention.
"Tomorrow's debate will decide who controls this campus," Aarav announced. "No more fake idealism. We represent power — real change."
Ananya looked up, recognizing the surname Rathore.
Her father, MLA Harish Menon, had been a political rival of Minister Rajveer Rathore — Aarav's father.
The two families had never shared a meal, only headlines filled with accusations.
When Aarav's eyes met Ananya's for the first time, it was brief — cold, assessing.
She didn't flinch. He wasn't used to that.
Later, as Ananya distributed leaflets for her charity event, a YNF member sneered, "Menon's daughter doing charity — is it publicity or pity?"
Before she could respond, Aarav's voice cut through.
"Let her do what she wants. Some people need attention to survive."
Her heart stung — not from his words, but from the arrogance behind them.
She turned, looked him straight in the eye, and said softly,
"Some people use power to silence others. I use kindness to remind them they're still human."
For a moment, his smirk faltered.
The war had begun — not of parties, but of principles.