The classroom buzzed with chatter and laughter—until the head boy and head girl stepped through the door. In an instant, the noise died down and everyone sat up straight. They all knew better than to test Saransh when he was in his head boy mode—strict, sharp-eyed, and terrifyingly focused.

"Class, make a line for assembly," Sara instructed, her voice firm but calm.

Without a word, the students stood and quickly formed a neat line, shuffling out of the classroom and heading toward the assembly hall.

Saransh glanced around, then turned slightly toward Sara. His voice was low, but carried the usual seriousness.
"Uh... you should go to the 8th and 9th classes to make their lines," he said, avoiding direct eye contact.

Sara paused for a beat, surprised he was addressing her directly. They weren't exactly friends—not yet. Their conversations were usually limited to duty updates or quick instructions. This moment hung in the air with a quiet awkwardness.

"Okay," she replied simply, giving a short nod before walking off, her steps brisk but composed.

Saransh watched her go, then turned back to the line, expression unreadable. He wasn't sure why it felt weird talking to her. It just did. 

After completing their duties, both Saransh and Sara returned to the assembly hall and stepped onto the stage, microphones in hand.

Saransh cleared his throat, then spoke into the mic—his tone soft but steady.

"Hello, students. Good morning, everyone. I hope your day goes well. Let's begin with the prayer."

The students straightened their postures, and a calm hush fell over the crowd as the familiar words of the school prayer began to echo through the hall.

After the prayer ended, Sara stepped forward and raised the microphone to her lips.

"Hello, hello..." she said, then tapped the mic gently with her fingers.

Nothing. No sound. Just a faint crackle.

She glanced sideways at Saransh, eyebrows slightly raised. The microphone still wasn't working.

A few students at the back giggled quietly, earning a sharp glance from a nearby teacher. Sara, staying composed, gave the mic one more tap, then lowered it slightly.

"It's not working," she whispered to Saransh, a hint of frustration in her voice—but she didn't lose her calm. 

"Use mine," Saransh said, his voice calm and steady.

Sara froze for half a second. Her heart skipped a beat—not because of the mic, but because of him. He held it out to her without hesitation, his expression unreadable.

She reached for it, her hand brushing his ever so slightly as she took the mic from his grasp. Her fingers trembled, just a little. She hoped no one noticed.

"Thank you," she murmured, barely audible over the low hum of the assembly hall.

Sara took a deep breath, steadying herself. The mic in her hand still felt warm from Saransh's touch.

She glanced out at the sea of students, their faces calm and expectant. Then she lifted her chin and spoke clearly, her voice echoing through the hall.

"Let's begin the pledge, followed by the national anthem."

The students straightened once more, ready to follow her lead.

The words of the pledge echoed through the hall, followed by the familiar tune of the national anthem. Voices rose in unison, filling the space with disciplined harmony. Teachers stood at the sides, watching attentively, while a few latecomers slipped in quietly, trying not to draw attention.

As the anthem ended, silence returned.

Sara stepped back and handed the microphone to the teacher-in-charge. Her fingers brushed against Saransh's once more, but this time she didn't flinch. She kept her expression composed, but inside, her thoughts were racing.

They stepped down from the stage together, walking side by side toward the exit.

"Thanks," she said quietly, without looking at him.

Saransh gave a small nod. "No problem."

There was a beat of silence between them—not uncomfortable, but uncertain. Neither of them knew what to say next, or if there was even anything to say. 

Behind them, the hall was slowly clearing out as students returned to their classes, footsteps echoing in the now-quiet corridor. The energy from the morning assembly lingered faintly—half-forgotten announcements, muffled giggles, and whispers about the new student council pairing.

Aarav, leaning casually against the wall near the back, watched the two prefects—Sara and — Saransh leave the stage side by side. His arms were crossed, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, but his eyes were sharp.

His gaze followed them with a curious intensity, his smirk deepening as held the door for Sara  and she—barely—thanked him.

Interesting, he thought.

Not the kind of interesting that got him curious in a classroom sense—God, no. It was the kind of interesting that made him think something was up. And Aarav always had a nose for drama. Especially the kind that wasn't his... yet.

The bell rang, jolting the moment.

A ripple of movement followed as students groaned and started climbing the narrow stairs to the fourth floor.

"Why are we in 12-B again?" Riha groaned, dragging her feet beside Sanchi. "Who put an actual classroom in the clouds?"

"Maybe the principal wants us to suffer," Sanchi replied, half-laughing, half-wheezing. "Like, emotional and physical trauma. And homework is just the cherry on top."

Behind them, more complaints echoed—students panting halfway up the stairs, a few sitting dramatically on the steps like they'd just summited Mount Everest.

By the time they reached the fourth floor, half the class looked ready to collapse.

Aarav entered last, strolling in like the stairs hadn't affected him at all. His friends Kabir and Pranav, on the other hand, flopped into seats and clutched their chests like they'd just barely survived.

"Bro, I think I'm out of breath. Am I going to die?" Kabir gasped, dramatically.

Pranav chuckled, tossing his bag onto the desk in the second row. "You say that every time we climb these stairs."

"Because I mean it every time," Kabir wheezed. "It's not just breath loss—it's a personal attack."

Laughter scattered around the room as the class slowly settled down, still breathless. Some students dropped their heads onto desks; others peeled off their blazers like they'd been through a battlefield.

Then the classroom door creaked open, and Sara walked in.

Back straight. Hair neatly tied in a low ponytail. Prefect badge still gleaming.

Some students straightened up immediately. Others waved. Sara smiled and waved back, her usual calm energy following her into the room like a breeze.

"Saru yaar, jaldi aa!" Riha called out the moment she saw her.

Sara beelined toward Riha and Sanchi, sliding into the empty seat beside them and setting her bottle on the desk with a soft thunk.

Right behind her, Saransh slipped in too—just a few seconds late, but enough to stir whispers.

"Always the dramatic entrance," someone muttered under their breath.

He nodded at a few people, then made his way to the row behind Sara and sat down .

Aarav raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping across his face. He leaned forward slightly in his chair and whispered to Kabir and Pranav, "So... are you getting this?"

Kabir blinked. "Getting what?"

"You know," Aarav tilted his chin subtly toward Sara and Saransh. "Before things get... spicy."

Pranav snorted. "You're imagining things again."

"Am I?" Aarav drawled, his eyes fixed on the scene ahead.

Sara had her notebook open already, pen in hand, completely ignoring Saransh behind her. Meanwhile, Saransh casually rested his chin on his hand, solving the question while tapping the pen on the desk .
"I know chemistry when I see it," Aarav muttered. "And that right there? That's an unsupervised lab just waiting to explode."

Kabir rolled his eyes. "You've been watching too many teen dramas."

"I live a teen drama," Aarav replied smugly.e."

Sara had her notebook open already, pen in hand, completely ignoring Saransh behind her. Meanwhile, Saransh casually rested his chin on his hand, solving the question on the board while tapping his pen rhythmically against the desk.

"I know chemistry when I see it," Aarav muttered. "And that right there? That's an unsupervised lab just waiting to explode."

Kabir rolled his eyes. "You've been watching too many teen dramas."

"I live a teen drama," Aarav replied smugly.

Just then, the door burst open with a loud thud.

All heads turned.

Mr. Batra, their Physics teacher—tall, stern, and permanently annoyed—strode into the room like a military commander. His glasses slid halfway down his nose as he scanned the class.

"Settle down," he barked. "I don't want a single sound. This isn't a fish market."

Someone snorted. Riha buried her face in her elbow to muffle a giggle.

"I heard that," Mr. Batra snapped without even looking. "Laugh again, and you can explain ohm's law to the entire school assembly."

The room went silent.

He scribbled a few equations on the board with his signature screechy handwriting. The markers squealed in protest.

"Today's class is going to be different," he announced, capping the marker with a dramatic click. "We're doing partner work. You will solve these problems together."

Groans erupted across the room.

"And before you start choosing your best friends and plotting who gets to do nothing," Mr. Batra continued, "I will assign the pairs." His lips curled into a faint smirk, like he genuinely enjoyed this tiny taste of power.

"Oh no," Riha whispered, gripping Sanchi's sleeve like a horror movie victim. "He's gone full dictator. Main bas acche se ke pass baith jaun, koi chomu naa mile."

Sanchi bit her lip to hide a laugh.

Mr. Batra started reading names.

"Zara and Ayush. Priya and Nikhil. Aarav and... Sunali. Pranav and... Riha. Kabir and... Sanchi."

Kabir blinked. "Lucky me," he mumbled.

Sanchi gave him a businesslike nod, the kind of nod you give someone when you're about to co-manage a project you already know will go off the rails.

Mr. Batra flipped the page in his register with all the drama of a reality show host announcing a season finale twist.

"Sara and... Saransh."

The air in the classroom instantly changed. You could practically feel the collective inhale.

A dozen heads turned in unison, slow and dramatic, like it was a scene straight out of a Bollywood movie.

Sara's grip on her pen tightened. Saransh looked up, eyebrows raised, expression unreadable.

Aarav inhaled sharply, like someone had just handed him popcorn and said "watch closely."

"Oh, this is getting spicy," he whispered.

Sara and Saransh made eye contact for half a second—silent agreement passed between them—and then, wordlessly, they picked up their notebooks and sat beside each other.

Across the room, a hand shot up.

"Mr. Batra, may I switch?" Riha asked sweetly.

Mr. Batra didn't even glance up. "No. Life doesn't come with a skip button. Learn to deal with it."

Kabir choked back a laugh. Aarav looked like he was trying to record the whole thing with his brain.

Reluctantly, Riha grabbed her notebook and walked over to the desk next to Pranav, her lips pressed into a tight line. She didn't look at him, just sat down and opened her book like she was preparing for battle.

Pranav pushed his notebook slightly toward her side of the desk.

"I won't bite," he said after a long silence.

"I'm not worried," Riha said flatly, eyes locked on the problem set in front of her.

"You're acting like I have a contagious disease."

"Do you?"

"Only my charm."

Riha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly dislocated something. "That line expired in 2012."

Behind them, Zara and Sanchi exchanged wide-eyed looks, trying hard not to burst out laughing. Aarav was now completely turned in his seat, his head bobbing between the pairs like a commentator analyzing a high-stakes game.

"What's going on between them?" Kabir whispered, nodding toward Riha and Pranav.

Aarav shrugged, eyes still gleaming. "I don't know. But the potential is thrilling."

Up ahead, Sara tapped her pen against the desk, glancing at the problem again.

"Saransh," she said, not looking at him but her was voice was louder than expected, "what if we split the questions? Like—you take the first two, I'll take the next. It'll be quicker. And efficient."

Saransh tilted his head slightly. "That would be easier, yeah. But..."

He gestured toward the board, where Mr. Batra had scrawled across the top in all caps:
"SHOW FULL STEPWISE SOLUTIONS. NO SHORTCUTS. NO DIVIDING WORK."

"...we have to follow the board," he finished, his voice quiet, almost unreadable.

Sara sighed, her pen pausing mid-air. "Right. Of course. God forbid we save time."

Saransh cracked a faint smile. "Efficiency isn't Mr. Batra's thing. Torture is."

Sara couldn't help the very, very slight twitch of a smile at that.

"Okay then," she said, flipping to a clean page. "Let's solve it together."

He leaned slightly closer, both of them silently focusing on the same equation now, their arms nearly touching but not quite.

For a moment, the classroom noise faded—there was just the scribble of pens, the low hum of murmured discussions, and the unsaid things between old friends who hadn't really spoken since... well, a while.
Meanwhile.....

"Bro," Pranav muttered, scribbling something in his notebook, "you do number two. I'm not touching that projectile motion crap."

Riha raised an eyebrow. "It's literally the easiest one. That's just basic substitution."

"You do it then."

"I will," she shot back, already halfway done. "Honestly, what would you even do without me?"

"Probably flirt with the wrong girl and fail Physics," Pranav said, not missing a beat.

Riha blinked. "...Did you just admit that?"

"I said probably. Don't quote me."

She rolled her eyes, but the edges of her mouth curled up slightly.
"Sunali mere pass bhi hai short method," Aarav said, nudging his partner gently with his elbow, "are you sure you don't want to hear my very innovative, extremely illegal shortcut method?"

Sunali didn't look up. "Aarav, please. Just solve the damn problem."

He put a hand on his heart. "Why does no one appreciate brilliance anymore?"

"Because your brilliance gets us extra assignments and punishment "

Kabir turned from his own work long enough to mutter, "Facts."

Aarav raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll solve it the boring way. But just so you know, my illegal method had style."

By now sara and saransh were on the last second question.

Their hands moved in sync on their respective pages, working out the same solution. Occasionally, their pens bumped. Once, they reached for the same eraser, fingers brushing for a fraction of a second.

Sara froze. So did he.

They both pulled back at the same time, and neither said a word.

But the silence between them was different now. It wasn't awkward. It was loaded.

"You're left-handed," Sara said softly after a beat.
"yeah ." He chuckled.

She didn't react.

Until he pointed at her second equation.

"You missed a negative sign," he said quietly.

She frowned, looking down. Damn. He was right.

"I was testing you," she muttered dryly.

Saransh tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Congratulations. I passed."

Behind them, Pranav and Riha were locked in a silent standoff over a calculator.

"Just give it to me for one question," Riha said, snatching it halfway across the desk.

Pranav sighed. "You're really not a team player, are you?"

"I am the team," she replied, solving furiously. 

Mr. Batra clapped his hands sharply.

"Alright, time's up. Pass your sheets forward. And if I find even one copied solution, both students get a zero. I have eagle eyes."

A few students groaned. Some scrambled to add last-minute steps. Others were already halfway asleep.

Sara and Saransh quietly handed their papers forward without exchanging a word.

She slowly gathered her pens, then paused just for a heartbeat.

"Good work," she said, her voice low, not quite meeting his eyes.

Saransh gave a small nod. "You too."

Their eyes met—just for a second.

It was brief, but enough. Enough to send a flicker of warmth rushing through both of them.

They quickly looked away, cheeks flushing just a little.

And that was it.
They both quickly looked away, cheeks warming, as the classroom buzzed around them. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, and the bell rang sharply.

Students began packing up, the familiar rush to leave filling the room.

Sara and Saransh gathered their things quietly, their usual distance now tinged with something unsaid.
The bell rang, signaling the start of lunch break.

Students erupted from their seats, eager to escape the confines of the classroom.

Riha lunged over to Sara, eyes wide with anticipation. "Bhai, lunch mein kya hai? Jaldi bata!"

Sara looked up calmly, slipping her notebook into her bag. "Pohe."

Riha blinked, then groaned dramatically. "Seriously? Again, Nasheele pohe? I was hoping for something exciting today."

Sara just smiled quietly. "Because I love poha."

Meanwhile, Saransh and his friends were opening their lunchboxes, chatting and laughing. But Saransh's attention drifted as he overheard bits of their conversation about Sara—how she liked poha.

He caught himself listening a little longer than usual, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Yaar, Agastya aur Anwesha kab aarhe hain? Kaafi time ho gaya, lambi vacation par gaye hain woh dono," Kabir said, stuffing a parantha into his mouth with a mouthful grin.

"Unki families to dost hain na? Toh woh dono out of the country gaye hain—Anwesha ke cousin ki destination wedding ke liye," Pranav explained, and the group nodded in agreement.

Aarav took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before asking, "Bhai, voh dono to bachpan se saath hain, right?"

"Haan bhai, voh dono bohot acche dost hain," Pranav confirmed, shrugging.

Kabir frowned, curiosity getting the better of him. "Phir school mein voh dono baat kyun nahi karte?"

Saransh leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Bachpan mein Agastya ke papa ka transfer ho gaya tha, tab se unki dosti tut gayi thi. Ab Agastya ke papa ka transfer fir yahan ho gaya hai."

Pranav added, "Uske baad Agastya thoda introvert ban gaya, toh dono zyada baat nahi karte."

The group fell silent for a moment, each lost in thought about childhood friendships, changes, and the quiet distance that sometimes grows between even the closest of friends. 

After finishing their lunch, the group started making their way toward the canteen. Just as they were about to move, Riha called out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

"Oye, mere liye kuch le aana, haan? Main baad mein paise deti hoon. Washroom ja rahi hoon," she called, waving them off with a grin.

The gang exchanged amused glances before nodding, already plotting what snacks to grab for their ever-hungry friend.

But Pranav wasn't exactly thrilled. He groaned, "Kyu bhai, kyun laaye hum?"

Kabir laughed, nudging him. "Arey, tu itna drama kyun karta hai? Ek-do baar ke liye toh chalega."

Pranav rolled his eyes but shrugged, knowing resistance was useless.
"Fine."

Everyone cheered in agreement as they started moving.

"Tum logon ke liye lana hai kuch?" Saransh asked, glancing at the rest of the girls—his gaze lingering for a second longer on Sara.

Sara shook her head politely. "No, I'm good."

Saransh nodded and turned to leave with the others, not bothering to ask anyone else again. The boys exchanged quick amused looks behind his back, picking up on the not-so-subtle moment.

Aarav leaned slightly toward Kabir with a grin.
"Selective service, huh ."