Her name was vamika.
She was the kind of girl who laughed easily — loudly, freely, without thinking twice. Always surrounded by friends, always joking, always teasing someone or the other. Life, for her, felt light at that time. Or maybe she just knew how to hide heaviness behind laughter.
Vamika was a junior. And like most juniors, she had opinions about seniors — most of them not very respectful.
Especially about Arav.
He was a senior everyone seemed to know. Calm, composed, and always watching more than speaking. Vamika and her friends often laughed about him, made harmless fun, copied the way he talked, the way he walked — never cruel, just careless. For vamika, he was just another senior. Nothing more. Nothing worth thinking about.
What vamika didn't know was that while she laughed, someone was noticing.
Arav had seen her long before she noticed him. The way she laughed with her friends. The way she spoke without fear. The way she filled a space without trying. Her jokes reached him too — and strangely, he never minded them.
She didn't know he listened when she spoke.
She didn't know he smiled when she laughed.
She didn't know she had become interesting to him.
For vamika, this was just another ordinary phase — friends, fun, and laughter.
For Arav, it was the beginning of paying attention.
And sometimes, that's how stories start —
one person laughing,
the other already watching.