"Bas ho gaya, ab main thak gaya bhai. Kya dikkat hai in school walon ko?" He flopped onto the ground while everyone looked at him seriously.

"Tune kiya hi kya hai, bhai, jo tu itna pareshan hai? Jab se kabhi mere paas shanti se baitha hai ab pit jayega tu." Pranav slapped his forearm, making him squint at him.

"Saransh, isko samjha le. Pit jayega ye bakri ka bachha mujhse," Pranav groaned in frustration.

"Mere papa ko bakri bola? Teri toh.." He elbowed Pranav in the stomach.

"Ahhh! Tu pagal ho gaya hai kya, bhai? Pit jayega mujhse tu!" Pranav yelped in pain and glared at him.

"Chup karo, gadhon. Bewajah kyun lad rahe ho, kamino?" Saransh adjusted his glasses, looked back at his iPad, and continued figuring out how to decorate the practical file while the other two kept arguing.

"Tum log ja rahe ho yahan se ya nahi? Mere kaam mein help karwane ki jagah lad rahe ho dono. Bhago yahan se isse achha toh main khud hi kar loon." Saransh rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Aww, mummy gussa ho gayi." Pranav hugged him from the side, while Saransh scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Mujhe ye samajh nahi aata ki term first mein practical files kyun banwani hoti hain, jab boards mein number sirf lab manuals se hi milte hain," Agastya pointed out, frustrated.

"Padhai ke alawa sab kuch karwa lo inse. Aur kal map bhi le jaana varna SST wali teacher kachcha chaba jayegi," Saransh reminded them, cutting paper into a strange, unrecognisable shape.

"Bhai, kachre ka project nahi bana rahe. Tu rehne de. Saaf-suthri file bana le—apna talent idhar mat dikha," Pranav snatched the scissors and paper.

"Ab dikhata hoon kaise kaat-te hain paper." He focused on cutting a star shape, but it ended up looking like a mouse had chewed on it. He glanced at Saransh and gulped.

"Dikha diya apna talent. Ab chup-chaap baith—ye sabse bada kaam karega tu," Saransh said with a tight-lipped smile.

"Theek hai. Waise bhi mujhe bhookh lagi hai. Main neeche jaa raha hoon kuch khane." Pranav sprinted downstairs.

The room was unusually quiet, broken only by the faint sound of paper brushing against paper.

"Tu bata... tera kya chal raha hai uske saath?"
Agastya asked casually, but his eyes were fixed on Saransh. He pressed the picture carefully onto the page, smoothing the edges as if afraid it might tear—just like the boy sitting beside him.

Saransh didn't reply immediately.

He adjusted the glue stick, capped it, uncapped it again—anything to avoid answering.

"Nothing," he finally said, his voice flat.
"Do din se ignore kar raha hoon. As usual."

His face remained blank, practiced, emotionless. But his eyes—his eyes lingered a second too long on the picture lying in front of him. They were glassy, unfocused, carrying a weight he didn't have the courage to speak aloud.

Agastya stopped working.

Slowly, he turned towards him and sat down beside him.

"Bhai... chhod kyun nahi deta usko?"
His tone wasn't harsh, just tired.
"Tujhe bhi pata hai na she's just playing with you."

Saransh let out a small, humourless breath. His fingers traced the corner of the photograph—their first date. Both of them smiling. Back when things were simple. Back when she still pretended to care.

"I can't, bro," he whispered.
"I love her so much that I'd rather stay... even when she hurts me."

He swallowed.

"Itna hurt karti hai ki koi aur hota na, toh kab ka toot chuka hota."

For a moment, his voice cracked. Just slightly. Enough to make Agastya clench his jaw.

"Bhai, meri baat sun," Agastya said, leaning closer.
"Please ek baar selfish ban ja."

He shook his head, anger creeping in.

"She doesn't deserve a man like you. Tu Kohinoor hai. Aur woh ladki—"
He scoffed.
"Gobar se nikli hui makkhi hai. Naali ki cockroach hai."

Agastya scrunched his nose, as if even saying her name out loud disgusted him.

Just then 

"Isko cockroach se compare karke cockroach ki beizzati mat kar."

Pranav's voice echoed from the living room entrance.

He walked in dramatically, half a sandwich stuffed in his mouth, crumbs falling onto his hoodie. Without ceremony, he slid a plate of sandwiches onto the table.

"Attention-seeker kahin ki. Puri gold digger hai," he continued, shaking his head.

He plopped down beside Saransh.

"Wahi behench*d jab bhi message karti hai, paise hi maangti rehti hai."
Pranav rolled his eyes aggressively. "Itni hi kangaal hai toh sadak pe katora leke baith jaaye."

Then his tone softened just a little.

"Why is she disturbing my Saransh baby, haan?"

He wrapped his arm around Saransh's bicep possessively.

Saransh immediately shoved him away.

"Kya hai, chilgoze?" he snapped, shifting farther. "Door reh mujhse."

But even as he said it, his lips twitched just barely.

"Chal, chal sandwich kha. Bohot tasty hai," Pranav said, forcefully pushing the sandwich toward Saransh. "Uski baat karke apna mood kharab nahi karte."

Before Saransh could protest, Pranav had already stuffed half the sandwich into his mouth. Saransh blinked in surprise, then sighed in defeat and started chewing slowly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Agastya snorted ,"Bhukkhad kahin ke."

Despite himself, Saransh let out a small chuckle.

They ate in comfortable silence crumbs on the table, plates scraping softly, Pranav complaining about the lack of ketchup while Agastya stole his fries shamelessly.

Once the plates were empty, books were pulled out again.

Glue sticks rolled across the floor. Papers were exchanged. Someone kept stealing someone else's ruler. Pranav messed up more than he helped, earning constant scoldings from Saransh and sarcastic comments from Agastya.

Time passed without them realising.

Three hours slipped by filled with laughter, arguments, dramatic reactions to wrong answers, and endless taunts.

By the time they finally leaned back, their practical files lay neatly stacked, homework completed, chapters revised messy handwriting, crossed-out lines, but everything done.

Saransh looked at the files, then at his friends.

The heaviness in his chest wasn't gone but it wasn't crushing anymore.

For now, this was enough.

The clock on the wall ticked past 2:30 a.m.

The room looked nothing like it had earlier—papers scattered everywhere, empty plates stacked carelessly, glue sticks without caps, pens rolling off the table every few minutes. The air smelled faintly of bread, ink, and exhaustion.

Agastya was the first to give up.

He leaned back against the couch, eyes half-closed, arms crossed.
"Bas... meri battery khatam," he muttered, already drifting off.

Pranav wasn't far behind.

He lay sprawled on the floor dramatically, one arm flung over his eyes.
"Kal agar koi pooche na aaj kya padha, main bolunga files" he said lazily.

No one replied.

Saransh sat cross-legged near the table, staring at the last page of his practical file. Everything was done. Perfectly aligned. Clean handwriting. Just the way teachers liked it.

Yet his fingers didn't move.

Slowly, his gaze shifted to his phone lying face-down beside him.

Silent.
No notifications.
No message.

He swallowed.

Without thinking, he flipped the phone over.

Nothing.

His thumb hovered over her chat—then stopped.

He turned the phone face-down again, pressing it lightly into the mattress as if that might quiet the ache rising in his chest.

Do din ho gaye, he thought.
Aur phir bhi aadat nahi jaa rahi.

From the floor, Pranav peeked through one eye.

"Oye," he said quietly, not joking for once. "Mat dekh."

Saransh didn't respond, but his shoulders relaxed just a little.

Agastya shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent.

Pranav sighed and dragged himself up, sitting beside Saransh.

No insults.
No drama.
Just presence.

"Kal subah uthke chai piyenge," he said softly. "Aur agar phir bhi mood kharab hua na... toh canteen ke samose meri taraf se."

Saransh let out a tired breath almost a laugh.

"Tu kab se itna samajhdaar ho gaya?"

Pranav shrugged.
"Jab se mere dost chup rehne laga."

For a moment, Saransh closed his eyes.

The pain was still there quiet, stubborn but wrapped in the warmth of familiar voices, half-finished jokes, and people who stayed.

He lay back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

Tonight, at least, he wasn't alone with his thoughts.

And somehow... that made all the difference.
IN THE MORNING

The alarm rang.

Once.
Twice.
Thrice.

And then kept ringing—ignored like an unwanted guest.

Three bodies lay sprawled across the bed, tangled in blankets, pillows kicked to the floor, exhaustion written into every limp limb. Not a single one of them stirred.

The door creaked open.

"Bacchooo,"
Saransh's mother called out gently, her voice filled with amusement. "Chalo, uth jaao. Jaana nahi kya school?"

She walked in and started pulling at the blankets one by one.

In perfect, well-practised synchronisation, all three of them grabbed their blankets and pulled them straight over their faces, groaning loudly as if personally victimised by the concept of mornings.

"Uhhhh..."

"Nahi..."

"Sone do..."

A familiar voice mumbled from under the blanket.

"Five minutes, maa..."

Pranav turned to the other side, half-asleep, his words slurred. Neerti smiled and gently caressed his hair, just like she had done countless times before.

Pranav had always called Saransh's mother maa.

They had been diaper buddies—practically raised together. After Shruti, Neerti was the one who had handled him, scolded him, fed him, worried about him like her own child. Somewhere along the way, the word aunty had quietly disappeared.

Neerti chuckled softly.

"Achha?" she said teasingly.
Then, casually added "Theek hai... waise bhi Mr. Oberoi aaj kaafi mood mein lag rahe the. Tum sab ki watt lagane ka poora plan hoga."

That did it.

Three blankets flew off at the same time.

All three boys sat bolt upright, eyes wide open, sleep evaporating in seconds.

"KYA?!"

"Papa Oberoi?!"

"Aaj?!"

Neerti burst out laughing.

"Pagal ho tum teeno," she said, shaking her head fondly. "Jaldi neeche aao, ready hoke. Main naashta lagwa rahi hoon."

Still smiling, she turned and walked out, leaving behind a room full of panic, half-awake boys scrambling off the bed and tripping over each other.

The day had officially begun.

Downstairs, the house was already awake.

The soft clink of a teacup against a saucer echoed through the dining area. The morning newspaper lay spread across the table, neatly folded at the edges.

Mr. Oberoi sat there, glasses on, calm and composed—the kind of calm that made people automatically stand straighter.

Neerti placed a cup of chai beside him.

"Bacche uth gaye?" he asked, glancing up.

"Uth gaye," Neerti replied with a smile.
"Par thoda late ho sakta hai... raat kaafi padhai chal rahi thi."

Mr. Oberoi nodded slowly.
"Achha hai," he said.
"Mehnat karni chahiye."

Upstairs 

"AREY JALDI KAR!"
"MERI BELT KISNE LI?"
"BHAI MERA NOTEBOOK!"

Saransh hurriedly buttoned his shirt, heart thumping—not out of fear, but respect.

"Papa oberoi neeche hai," he muttered.

Instant silence.

Pranav froze mid-motion.

"Achha," he whispered.
"Toh aaj thoda seedha rehna padega."

Agastya zipped his bag quickly.
"Bhai, aaj ghar ke rules follow honge."

They walked downstairs—not running, not joking.

"Good morning, uncle," Pranav and Agastya said together.

"Good morning," Mr. Oberoi replied calmly.

His gaze shifted to Saransh.

"Late night tha?"

Saransh nodded.
"Practical files aur homework tha."

Mr. Oberoi studied him for a moment—long enough to make Saransh fidget.

Then he said,
"Theek hai. Par health ka dhyaan rakho."

Neerti raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised but pleased.

Breakfast was served simple, warm, filling.

As they ate, Mr. Oberoi folded his newspaper.

"School ke baad seedha ghar," he said casually.
"Aaj baat karni hai."

Saransh paused mid-bite , "Ji papa Oberoi " he replied softly.
"Tu sudhrega nahi what is this papa Oberoi, are mujhe bhi pata hai mein isi khandan ka chirag hu ." Abhinav glared at him playfully and took a bite of sandwich meanwhile saransh just grinned .

Outside, once the gate closed behind them 

Pranav exhaled loudly.
"Uncle Oberoi ka aura hi alag hai."

Agastya nodded.
"Bina kuch bole hi dara dete hain."

Saransh adjusted his bag strap, glancing back once.

His father was already back to his newspaper.

Strict.
Caring.
Unreadable.

The school gate was already crowded when they reached.

Students poured in from every direction—some laughing too loudly, some half-asleep, some frantically revising notes while walking. The sharp smell of dust mixed with perfume, sweat, and freshly polished shoes.

Pranav adjusted his bag and stretched his arms.
"Roz subah yahi lagta hai jaise kisi mele mein ghus rahe ho."

Agastya snorted.
"Aur phir bolte hain discipline rakho."

Saransh walked between them, quieter than usual. His eyes scanned the familiar building—the notice boards plastered with faded circulars, the assembly ground still wet from the morning wash, the classrooms lining up like silent witnesses.

At the security gate, the guard glanced at their ID cards and waved them in.

"Jaldi jao, bell hone wali hai," he said.

The warning bell rang just as they stepped inside.

The sound echoed through the corridor, sharp and commanding.

Students immediately broke into a half-run.

Pranav groaned.
"Bas yehi reh gaya tha."

They hurried up the stairs, shoes thudding against the concrete. Somewhere ahead, someone shouted about a surprise test. Someone else laughed nervously.

Saransh's phone vibrated in his pocket.

His heart jumped.

For half a second, the noise around him blurred.

He stopped walking.

Agastya noticed first.
"Kya hua?"

Saransh shook his head quickly.
"Kuch nahi."

He didn't check the phone.

Not now.

He pushed it deeper into his pocket and kept moving.

They reached their classroom just in time. Benches scraped loudly as everyone rushed to their seats.

Pranav flopped down dramatically.
"Aaj agar attendance mein naam miss hua na, main sach mein ro dunga."

After the assembly 

Saransh slid into his seat near the window.

Outside, sunlight filtered through the bars, dust particles floating lazily in the air. He rested his forehead briefly against the cool glass.

Do din ho gaye, he thought again.

The teacher entered, attendance register in hand.

"Good morning, class."

The day had begun.

"Goodddddddddd morrrrrninggggg, teacherrrrrrrr!"

The entire class sang in exaggerated enthusiasm, dragging every syllable.

The teacher raised an eyebrow then surprised everyone by replying with the exact same energy.

"Goodddddddddd morrrrrninggggg, students!"

Laughter rippled through the room.

She placed her book on the table, clapped once sharply.

"Alright, let's begin the class," she said, instantly serious. "Keep silent, listen carefully, and ask questions wherever you have doubts."

The chalk hit the board, and the lecture began.

Five minutes in 

Riha leaned toward Sara, resting her chin on her hand dramatically.

"Mujhe bhookh lag rahi hai," she whispered miserably.

Sara looked up from her notebook, paused her pen, and scooted a little closer so their shoulders almost touched.

"Ye first period hai," she murmured near Riha's ear. "Abhi control karle . Aur in ma'am ko pata chal jaata hai jab koi kuch kha raha hota hai."

She went back to writing.

"Par main bhookh se mar jaaungi, yaar. Kya karu?" Riha groaned softly.

She lifted her eyes toward the blackboard 

And froze.

Ma'am was staring straight at them.

Her left hand rested firmly on her waist.
Her right hand gripped the book.

Danger.

"Chup-chaap baith ja," Sara muttered instantly, not even looking up. "Agar lag bhi rahi hai na, toh khana khaane ki jagah ma'am tujhe kha jaayengi."

As she said that, Sara's eyes shifted almost involuntarily toward the other side of the classroom.

Saransh.

He was looking at her.

Not staring.
Not smiling.
Just... watching.

Sara's fingers tightened around her pen.

Why is he looking at me like this?

She quickly looked down, a nervous swallow following. A faint red hue crept up her cheeks, warmth spreading before she could stop it.

Riha noticed.

"Kya hua?" she whispered, confused.

"Kuch nahi," Sara muttered.

Riha glanced ahead nervously and placed her pen down.

"Mujhe lagta hai ma'am humein apni nazaron se hi maar dengi," she whispered.

"Pagal hai kya? Ma'am ki aankhen gun thodi na—" Sara scoffed quietly.

"Tera dead humour leke tujhe bhad mein bhi jagah nahi milegi, chuhii," Riha cut her off.

Before either of them could react 

"TUM DONO!"

The teacher's voice thundered across the classroom.

Both girls flinched hard, backs straightening instantly.

"Agar tum dono ka discussion ho gaya ho," she snapped,
"toh class pe bhi thoda dhyaan de lo."

"Sorry, ma'am," they said together, in perfect synchronisation.

The class snickered softly.

Sara kept her eyes on her notebook.

But she could still feel Saransh's gaze brief, unreadable before the lecture swallowed the moment whole.

The bell rang, releasing students into the corridor like a flood.

"Finally, azaadi. Agar aur do minute baithna padta na, main desk se chipak jaata." Pranav stepped out of the classroom dramatically, stretching his arms.
"Desk tujhe bhi reject kar deta," a voice shot back instantly.

Pranav froze.

Slowly, he turned.

Riha stood a few steps away, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, her bag slung casually on one shoulder. Anwesha stood beside her, already bracing herself.

"Oh," Pranav said, placing a hand on his chest. "Good morning to you too, Sunshine."

"Itni subah tera muh dekh liya, poora din kharab ho gaya," Riha replied sweetly.

"Guys—" Anwesha coughed.

"Nahi, nahi," Pranav interrupted. "Bolne de. Mujhe toh aadat ho gayi hai—bina wajah insult hone ki."

Riha scoffed.
"Bina wajah? Tera existence hi kaafi hai." Riha scoffed.

"Wow," Pranav nodded appreciatively. "Itni creativity. Roz naye tareeke se beizzati karti hai. Respect."

Saransh walked past them, pausing for half a second.

"Tum dono agar shaant ho gaye na, school ka noise pollution aadha ho jaayega," he muttered.

"DEKHA?" Riha pointed at Saransh. "Head Boy bhi maanta hai."

"Head Boy jo maan leta hai voh patthar ki lakeer nahi hai aur vaise bhi mera bestfriend hai voh ." Pranav shot back.

Riha stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to sound dangerous.

"Pranav," she said calmly, "ek din main sach mein chup ho gayi na tu bore ho jaayega."

Pranav blinked.

Just once.

Then he grinned.

"Impossible," he said "Tum chup raho, ye school band ho jaayega."

Anwesha burst out laughing despite herself.

Riha rolled her eyes but turned away, already walking.

"Chal, Anwesha. Pagalon se baat karke dimaag kharab hota hai."

Pranav watched her go, then called out lazily—

"Oi, Riha!"

She stopped.

Didn't turn.

"Kya hai ab?" she shot back, irritation laced with leftover embarrassment.

Pranav grinned behind her.

"Kuch nahi," he said lightly. "Tere shoelaces khulle hain. Abhi tera muh dharti chaat-ta phirega."

Riha scoffed, bending slightly and awkwardly stuffing the loose laces into the sides of her shoes.

"Kitna kutta hai tu," she muttered. "Mujhe bandhna nahi aata."

Before she could take another step, Pranav rushed forward.

She felt him kneel down in front of her.

"Pranav—"

He had already taken hold of her shoelaces, fingers moving carefully, deliberately tying them properly.

Her breath caught.

"Uth jaa," she whispered urgently. "Tu pagal hai kya? You are a crowned prince, for God's sake. Achha nahi lagta—commoner ke shoelaces baandhte hue."

Pranav didn't look up immediately.

He finished tying the knot.

Then he stood.

"Chup kar," he said quietly not harsh, just firm.
"Ye commoner–wommoner kya bakwaas hai?"

He looked straight at her.

"Tu meri friend hai. Samjhi?"

Riha's throat tightened.

"Aur mere liye koi position, koi crown, kuch bhi zyada important nahi hai."
He paused, then added softly, "Agar mujhe apni jagah se hatna bhi pade na... tere liye khushi-khushi hat jaaunga."

Riha didn't realise when her eyes filled.

The tears came on their own—silent, stubborn.

Pranav noticed immediately.

Without making it awkward, he lifted his hand, gently wiped the tear from her cheek, then rested his palm briefly on her head.

"Bas," he said lightly. "Ab rona band."

His tone shifted back to familiar Pranav.

"Shaam ko ice cream khane chalenge."

She nodded, sniffing, trying to blink the tears away.

"Jaa," he said, gently nudging her toward where Sara, Anwesha, and Sanchi stood. "Lunch khatam hone wala hai."

Riha turned back once and glared at him eyes still wet, expression fierce.

Pranav chuckled, shaking his head.

"Aa gayi wapas meri sherni."

He turned around and joined Saransh and the others who were already watching him with very knowing, very teasing smiles.

Pranav dropped onto the bench beside them, trying very hard to look normal.

Saransh didn't even look at him at first.

Agastya did.

He leaned back, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Waise," Agastya said casually, "Ye wahi Riha hai na... jisse tu ek time pe apni personal dushman maanta tha?"

Pranav froze.

Saransh finally turned, one eyebrow raised.

"Haan," he added calmly, but his eyes were sharp. "Last year tak toh tu bolta tha 'isse door rakho mujhe, warna main kuch ulta-seedha bol dunga.'"

Agastya nodded thoughtfully.
"Aur aaj..."
He gestured vaguely downward. "shoelaces baandh raha tha."

Pranav groaned and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Tum dono bhi na," he muttered.

Saransh smirked. "Isliye pooch rahe hain. Kya badla?"

Pranav stayed quiet for a moment.

Then he shrugged.

"Pehle irritating lagti thi," he admitted. "Har baat pe muh chalana, har cheez pe react karna."

"Ab bhi karti hai." Agastya chuckled.

"Haan," Pranav said instantly. "Par ab samajh aata hai kyun , achha lagta hai ."

Saransh's expression softened a little.

"Aur?"

Pranav sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ek din jab voh irritate nahi karti to kuch khali khali rehta hai and we are friends so why not ." He smiled .

Agastya exchanged a glance with Saransh.

"Tab realise hua," Pranav continued, "dushman nahi thi voh. Bas... bas alag tarah se dosti nibha rahi thi."

Saransh nodded slowly.

"Isliye badlav aaya."

Pranav looked up, half-smiling.

"Haan."

Agastya leaned forward with a wicked grin.

"Matlab? ,Enemy se friend... aur friend se?"

Pranav threw a crumpled paper at him.

"Zyada mat soch."

Saransh allowed himself a small smile.

"Par jo bhi hai," he said quietly, "achha hai , atleast tum dono ki bakwas nahi jhelni padegi."

Pranav looked away, ears slightly red.

Agastya laughed.