Treyaksh POV

I was lying flat on my bed,  Avyaan sprawled on one side of me . Aarvik on the other, curled slightly toward the wall, both of them scrolling endlessly on their phones, the faint blue glow lighting up their faces in the dark room, while the clock on my phone quietly read 12:23 a.m..

Then my phone hit a notification.

maikittipyaarihuna  added you.

I frowned slightly, thumb hovering before I tapped on the notification, and the moment i scrolled trough a little chat and members list , realization hit me—the admin was her. The girl. The shipping-account one. 

Before I could even think anything about it, she started adding people—one after another , the member count rising .

Within minutes, the group chat was chaos.

“Intro pls”
“From where?”
“Age?”
“Who added you?”
“Anyone from 11th?”

I just… stayed there. Seen-zoning. 

That’s when I noticed it.

The shipping-account girl’s spam ID popped up in the members list.

maikittipyaarihuna

I don’t know why, but I clicked it.

Two followers.
Two following.

That’s it.

I stared at the screen for a second, then let out a quiet chuckle .

Avyaan turned his head slightly. “Why are you smiling like a fool at night , are u possessed ?” he whispered, suspicious.

“Mind your business,” I muttered back, still staring at the screen.

And then—

@treyaksh “Baat karni hai toh kar, nahi toh leave maar de bhai. Group mai seen-zone karne se paisae nahi milta.”
If you want to talk, then talk; otherwise just leave, bro. You don’t earn money by leaving the group on seen.

I blinked.
Huh?

The message was from ADIRA.

I sat up slightly, phone closer to my face now.

I typed instantly.

“Toh kaunsa baat karne sae paisae miltae hai?”
So what ? talking actually makes money?

ADIRA:
“Aww, laadlae offend hogya.”
Aww, the darling got offended.

RandomGuy07:
“LMAOO exposed.”

SomeoneElse:
“Bhai intro toh de hi de.”

I sighed softly.

“Jitnae shiddat sae Intro mang rha kaash utnae shiddat sae padhai ki hoti tunae”
If only you had studied with the same intensity that you’re asking for an intro.

ADIRA:
“Is mandbuddhi ko kisnae add kiya, bhai tu leave hi krdae group”
Who added this dimwit? Bro, just leave the group.

Who added this tubelight?

I replied.

“Agar mai gc keave krdunga to mai aur apki dost aapkae bhacha bhaachi kae ptm mai kaisae jayengae?”
If I leave the GC, then how will I and your friend attend your nephew or niece’ PTM in the future?

ADIRA:
“Abae suar ki shakal kae, ek thppad mai dharti chhat jayega, 15 minute hua nai hai aur meri dost par naazar dal rha .. wo sab to theek teko pta kaesae chla wo meri dost hai aur konsi dostr ki bat krrha”
You idiot, one slap and you will be licking ground. It hasn’t even been 15 minutes and you’re already eyeing my friend. Fine, leave that—how do you even know she’s my friend, and which friend are you talking about?

I replied instantly:
“bhn calm down i said that genuinely dont freak out, im sorry .. sorry”
(Sis, calm down. I said that genuinely, don’t freak out. I’m sorry… sorry.)

She replied:
“Hmm thats fine”

Then again i gone to my seenzoning.

Everyone was chatting, and I got to know that Iyaana and Adira are friends, and they were mentioning:
“nishtha kha hai sali”
Where is Nishtha, damn it?

rapidly. Like seriously, I also got curious—who is this Nishtha?

Avyaan suddenly shot upright on the bed like he’d been possessed by some one .. Yanking his headphones off and tossing them aside without a second thought, and before Aarvik or I could even process what was  dramatic music exploded from his phone at full volume,

“Aae chikni kamar pae teri mera dil fisal gyaaaa 

strongly yae jaddu tera mujhpae chaad gyaa

 Waooo waooo waooooo”

Aarvik froze beside me with his phone halfway to his face, both of us trying to understand whether this was a normal Avyaan moment or something… 

I leaned closer to Aarvik and whispered , “Do you think he’s possessed or something? Like—should we call bhoot bhaganae walae baba?”

Aarvik didn’t even look at me, just nodded with the seriousness of a man facing a life-altering mystery and muttered, “Same question, Trishu. Something has definitely entered him.”

Meanwhile, Avyaan was jumping on the bed . I dragged a hand down my face, sighing. “Will this boy ever improve?” , “Thank God my room is soundproof,” I added, glancing at the walls.

But then—something shifted.

I jumped off the bed.
Aarvik understood immediately.

He bolted toward the TV while I grabbed the remote, YouTube loading in a blur as we clicked straight into a playlist full of loud, CHATPATAE songs—

We started  dancing like absolute idiots.

At one point,AVYAAN ,  he climbed back onto the bed and started doing this ridiculous move—half push-up, half interpretive dance—one palm pounding the mattress like it had personally offended him, the other frozen mid-air like a dramatic punch, his back arching up and down . ( garmi garmi wala step i tried my best to explain it baki jasi jiski soch .)

I pointed at him, wheezing. “What is that supposed to be?”
“Art,” Aarvik yelled back without stopping.

Then Aarvik didn’t even hesitate. He ran forward and scooped Avyaan up like he was some delicate princess , while I joined in, grabbing his legs, all three of us collapsing into laughter so loud it drowned out the music.

It was just before the morning assembly, that strange in-between time when the school didn’t quite feel disciplined yet—when laughter echoed too loudly in the corridors, when chairs scraped across the floor without permission, when half the class was still arguing over homework and the other half was pretending they had actually completed it.

Somewhere in Chhattisgarh

Groups were scattered everywhere— someone finishing breakfast secretly behind an open notebook, boys arguing about cricket scores like it was a matter of national importance. The ceiling fans spun lazily overhead, doing absolutely nothing except making  sounds ..

Adira and Iyana were sitting on the third bench from the front, whispering about something serious that was most definitely not serious at all.

That was when Nishtha entered.

Iyana noticed first.

She leaned toward Adira, lowering her voice dramatically as if she had spotted a suspicious character in a detective movie. “Why does that choti chuzii look like iskiicecream chura liya koi r?” she whispered ..

Adira followed her gaze “That’s not normal,” Adira murmured thoughtfully. “She didn’t even complain about anything. Something is definitely wrong.”

“Let’s go ask,” Iyana declared, already half rising from her seat.

They walked over together, Adira said . “What happened? Why do you look like ujda chaman?”

Nishtha sighed “I’ve been feeling nauseous since morning,” she muttered. “I don’t know what I ate, but my stomach has been plotting revenge.”

There was a two-second silence.

Adira and Iyana looked at each other.

And then—

They burst into laughter.

“Ohhhhhh,” Iyana dragged out suspiciously, covering her mouth .

Adira gasped theatrically and grabbed Nishtha’s shoulders. “NIIIIIIISHHHHHTTTTTHAAAAAA!”

Nishtha’s POV

“Kiska bacha mar gy—” I stopped mid-sentence,.

“You’re pregnant,” they said together, eyes wide with fake shock. “We’re going to be godmothers!”

And then they dissolved into laughter again.

For a split second, I just stared at them.

Were they mentally stable?

The class had now fully tuned into this nonsense, laughter spreading like wildfire. Even the boy near the window who never reacted to anything was smirking.

“Aae mata rani , shut up!” I snapped, trying not to laugh because if I laughed, they would win. “Are you two out of your minds? Khoon pijaungi tum dono ka chup hojaooo.”

They only laughed harder.

Adira wiped imaginary tears from her eyes. “Relax, relax,” she said, still grinning. “We’re just saying. Morning nausea —very suspicious behavior.”

I shoved her shoulder lightly. “I just feel sick, okay?”

But even as I said it, I turned slightly and that’s when I saw him.

He was standing behind my  back, pretending not to watch but very clearly watching.

My crush?

No.

Absolutely not.

Just because he has a calm face and messy hair and that annoying half-smile that makes him look harmless does not mean I’m falling for that nonsense. He’s an idiot. A certified idiot. The kind who talks to every girl like she’s his long-lost best friend. The kind who pretends to be clueless but knows exactly what he’s doing.

Use and throw type.

That’s what he is.

He just looks innocent.

And I refuse to be fooled by that soft, nonchalant expression. Those quiet boys? They are the most dangerous. Kaminae , lucchae lafngaeeeeee..

I quickly looked away.

Why was he smiling?

Was he laughing at me?

Iyana noticed my sudden silence and followed my gaze.

“Ohhh,” she breathed dramatically again. “Now I understand.”

“Don’t start,” I warned immediately.

Adira folded her arms. “You’re sick, and suddenly you’re quiet because someone is standing at the back.”

“I am not quiet because of him! I hate him now stop it .. kitnae bar boli hu uskae nam sae mat chidhaya karo mereko besharam log  ” I protested .. 

“Oh please,” she said dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder , “don’t pretend you don’t remember. KITTAA LALLU THA WO . And you . you were worse. Do you remember what happened when you used to like him? Back in tenth grade?”

Adira replied she managed between breaths, “the entire flashback just replayed in my head. Every single scene. Every. Single. One.”

I stared at both of them, my eyes widening as I tried to calculate whether I should defend myself or simply accept that my dignity had already left the building.

“Why are you both looking at me like I committed some criminal offense?”

Iyana pointed at me dramatically. “Because you thought we forgot,” she declared, as if that was the ultimate betrayal.

Adira leaned closer, lowering her voice slightly but not enough to hide her excitement. “History,” she said slowly, “is never erased, Nishtha. Especially not this history.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I could practically see my own brain, then turned slightly toward the invisible audience in my head, because if they were going to drag me into this, I might as well narrate it myself.

Alright fine. Since these two have decided that my peace is optional, let me take you back properly and listen carefully, this stays between us, YOU MY READERS MERAE DOST HOP YWR TUM LOG ..

Let’s go.

Last year.

It was technically summer vacation, but our school clearly did not believe in the concept of mercy, especially not for board students, because according to the administration, once you reach tenth grade, you stop being a child and start being a “future responsibility of the nation,” 

Adira was sitting beside me that day, casually twirling her pen between her fingers .

Sometimes I still wonder how we became best friends, because we had been in the same class since third grade and yet somehow existed in parallel worlds for years, silently judging each other from a distance — I thought she was too bold and too confident, and she probably thought I was dramatic and overly sensitive .  and we barely exchanged more than formal conversations about homework or assignments until something shifted last year without any warning.

We started sitting together more often, and somewhere between sharing gossips, complaining about teachers, laughing over random memes, and defending each other in small unnoticed ways, we became inseparable in a way that felt both surprising and completely natural.

She became my safe place before I even realized it.

Which is why that afternoon, with my heart beating faster than it had any right to, I decided I was going to tell her about him.

Not love. Absolutely not love. Just a ridiculous, unnecessary, slightly embarrassing crush that had taken up far too much mental space for no valid reason.

“Adira…” I began casually, staring at my notebook as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

She did not look up immediately. “Hmm?” she responded .

“I want to tell you something.”

That made her pause, and she slowly turned her head toward me, narrowing her eyes slightly in suspicion. “Why do you sound like you are about to confess something horrible ?”

“It is not like that,” I muttered, already regretting opening my mouth.

She leaned closer, resting her chin on her palm. “Then what is it? Stop building suspense and just say it.”

“Do you know,” I began carefully, “Sneha has a crush.”

Her eyebrow lifted instantly. “Sneha? Which Sneha?”

“Section B Sneha.”

“And how exactly do you know that?” she asked, eyes narrowing further because she was not easy to fool.

“I just… know.”

She stared at me in silence for a full five seconds before asking, “On whom?”

“A boy from Section E.”

Her pen stopped moving entirely. “Name.”

“I will show you during short break,” I said quickly.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Why do I feel like this is not about Sneha at all?”

“You are overthinking,” I replied, though my voice betrayed me.

She tapped her pen lightly against my arm. “Fine. SHORT  break. I want to see him .”

Short break arrived faster than I was emotionally prepared for, and the corridors exploded with noise the moment the bell rang, students flooding out of classrooms as if freedom had been temporarily granted .

Adira grabbed my wrist before I could pretend to be busy. “Come on,” she said firmly. “Show me.”

“Relax,” I tried to sound calm. “He is not running away.”

“I am not leaving without seeing him,” she replied, her grip tightening slightly in mock determination. I subtly gestured toward a group of boys standing near the railing.

“There,” I whispered.

“Where?” she asked, scanning the crowd. “There are at least ten boys.”

“That one.”

“The tall one?”

“Yes.”

“The one laughing?”

“Yes.”

“Wo jo buddha sa dikh rha khamba sa?’’

“Aesa mat bol yar”

She observed him carefully for a few long seconds, then slowly turned her head toward me, her expression unreadable.

“That is Sneha’s crush?” she asked.

Silence.

I tried to maintain eye contact. Failed.

She crossed her arms again. “You are Sneha.”

I exhaled dramatically. “umm..ha.”

She did not laugh. She did not tease. She simply looked at him again .

“How long?” she asked softly.

“A few weeks.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“Have you spoken properly?”

“Not really.”

 Then here she laughed like idiot . “yae lallu pasand hai teko?” ..

After months of teasing 

Adira deliberately walking past him in the corridor and loudly chanting my name  “Nishtha! Why are you blushing? Nishtha, look who’s here!” while I tried to disappear into the nearest classroom wall; Iyana conducting full investigative operations like a detective , casually befriending his best friend just to Gather data .

“Tum log meri izzat ka faluda bna diyae ho ,” I had once muttered dramatically while walking back from the water cooler, and Adira had bumped her shoulder into mine and said, “Relax. If he cannot survive three girls teasing him, he is not emotionally strong enough for this school anyway.”

And then one day , everything shifted.

Iyana came running toward us across the corridor, her bag bouncing against her shoulder, breath uneven, eyes wide in a way that was not playful this time.

“Nishtha! Adira! Stop — wait!” she called out.

We both turned immediately, the tone in her voice cutting through the hallway noise.

“What happened?” Adira asked first .

Iyana reached us and bent slightly, catching her breath before speaking .

“You know his brother?” she said slowly.

“What about him?” I asked .

“He messaged me yesterday,” she continued carefully, watching my face as she spoke. “He said… he said I should tell you to forget his brother. That he is not a good guy. That he knows things about him. That he… uses girls. That I cannot even imagine how bad he is.”

“No,” I whispered automatically.

Adira did not look surprised.

She looked at me.

Slowly.

With something heavy in her eyes.

“I told you,” she said gently,. “I showed you the screenshots, remember? The way he replied when I messaged him from that fake account? The tone. The flirting. The unnecessary confidence. You defended him. You said maybe he was just curious.”

“You even said I was overthinking,” she continued, but there was no anger in her voice — only concern. “And now his own brother is warning you.”

I looked from Adira to Iyana, and suddenly the hallway felt too bright.

“Send me screenshots ,” I said quietly.

Iyana nodded. “Log into my account tonight. Read the chats yourself.”

I did not argue.

I did not defend him again.

I just nodded.

That evening, I lay on my bed with the lights off except for the soft glow of my phone screen, my room silent except for the hum of the air conditioner, and I logged into Iyana’s account with trembling fingers.

I opened the chat.

There were screenshots.

Conversations.

At first, I tried to justify it  maybe he was joking, maybe he did not mean it like that, maybe his brother was exaggerating because once I had rejected him and this was revenge.

But the more I scrolled, the quieter my excuses became.

I locked my phone and placed it on my chest, staring up at the ceiling.

The air conditioner kept humming, indifferent.

My mind began replaying everything  the way he would talk to different girls, the slight arrogance I had ignored because I thought it was confidence.

The dots connected one by one.

And that was the moment something inside me cracked.

Not loudly.

Just quietly, like glass under pressure.

I sat up suddenly,tears rising before I could stop them, and without thinking I walked to the pooja room to SHIV JII..

I knelt down.

And I cried.

The kind where your breathing breaks in between words and your eyes burn and your throat hurts and you do not even fully understand what you are grieving.

“Why did I ignore the signs?” I whispered shakily. “You showed me so many hints. So many small warnings. I saw them. I did. I just… chose not to.”

Tears kept falling.

“I promise,” I said between sobs, pressing my hands together tightly. “From today, I will not fall for anyone unless You approve. I will not let my heart run ahead of my mind. I am too young for this. I am not supposed to break myself over someone who never even promised me anything.”

And that was the most painful part.

He never said he loved me.

He never made a promise.

This entire storm had lived inside my own head.

“I created this,” I cried softly. “I imagined it. I built stories. He never asked me to.”

I wiped my face roughly.

“I will never fall in love again,” I whispered, voice trembling. “I cannot handle hurting like this again. I refuse.”

But even as I said those words, a tiny voice inside me asked — was I really hurt because of him, or because of the version of him I had created?

High school does that to you.

It teaches you lessons without asking if you are ready.

The next day in school, Iyana and Adira did not tease me.

They did not say “I told you so.”

They simply sat beside me.

Iyana nudged my shoulder lightly and whispered, “You okay?”

I nodded.

And in that moment, I understood something far more important than crushes and disappointments — boys may come and go in your stories, but the girls who sit beside you, who protect you even when you argue with them, who hold your silence without demanding explanations  they are the real love stories of high school.

And maybe the lesson was not “never trust a man.”

Maybe it was simply this:

Do not abandon your own intuition just to keep a fantasy alive.

And above all —

Never lose yourself trying to prove someone was better than they showed you they were.