The school bell rang — a loud, clanging reminder that the weekend was still two long days away. Ahana Sharma stuffed her rough notebook into her bag with her usual rush. Her plaited hair had loosened over the day, and a small strand tickled her cheek, but she didn't care. Her eyes were already searching — quietly, nervously — for him.

Anirudh, the boy from Class 8C.

He wasn't particularly loud or even popular. But the first time Ahana had seen him scribbling in the back pages of his notebook with ink-stained fingers and his brows furrowed like he was solving a life mystery — she was hooked. She didn't know if it was the way he chewed the edge of his pen or the way he always said "thank you" to the peon who delivered the attendance slips — but something about him made her heart do backflips.

And now, for the third time this week, she was pretending to tie her shoelaces outside his classroom, right when his last period ended.

"Ahana" her best friend Kriti whispered-shouted from behind the pillar. "You already tied them twice. You're going to wear out the lace."

"Shh," Ahana hissed, straightening her posture and trying to look casual. She fiddled with the strap of her bag and focused on not looking like a complete idiot.

He walked out two seconds later — hair messy, sleeves rolled, a little smudge of ink on his left thumb. She gulped and stepped just a little into his path.

"Hi," she said, soft and unsure, as if her voice wasn't entirely convinced either.

He glanced sideways, gave her a brief nod, a polite smile — and kept walking.

Ahana stood there, frozen in place. It wasn't much, but it wasn't nothing either.

Kriti clapped once sarcastically. "Congratulations, that was record-breaking. Next time maybe say... two whole words."

But Ahana wasn't listening anymore. Her heart was thudding too loudly in her ears.

What she didn't know was that someone else had seen it all. From the corridor above, leaning lazily against the rusting railing of the 9th-grade block, Devansh Agnihotri watched silently. One earbud in, hands in pockets, he looked every bit the brooding senior people whispered about.

Devansh wasn't the kind of boy teachers praised. He was the kind they warned about in parent-teacher meetings.

"Detached."
"Arrogant."
"Unpredictable."

They said he was sharp but uninterested, smart but rebellious. He barely talked in class unless he had to, and even then, it was with a kind of irritation that made people uncomfortable. He had this way of looking at people — like he could read their thoughts and was unimpressed by most of them.

But Ahana Sharma was an exception.

Not that she knew.

Devansh had noticed her first two weeks ago when she accidentally entered the wrong corridor and nearly collided into him with a "Sorry-sorry-sorry!" that made three of his classmates laugh.

She had scurried away red-faced and apologetic, but something about her had stuck in his mind. Maybe it was the way she apologized too many times, or the way her eyes didn't match her words — wide, curious, and full of something he hadn't seen in a long time: genuine innocence.

Now, he watched her little plans, the awkward attempts to talk to that 8th-standard boy, the hopeful way she smiled when she got a second of attention. He watched, and for some reason, it bothered him.

Not because she liked someone.
But because she looked at that boy like he mattered.

Back downstairs, Ahana and Kriti were sitting near the canteen wall, sipping warm mango Frooti.

"You think he'll ever talk to me properly?" Ahana asked, poking a straw into the plastic bottle.

Kriti wrinkled her nose. "If you mean full sentences? Maybe in five years."

"Very helpful," Ahana said, rolling her eyes.

Kriti leaned in, teasing. "But what if I told you someone else is watching you?"

Ahana blinked. "Who?"

"I don't know. But Neha from 8B said she saw a 9th standard boy staring down from the balcony while you were talking to Anirudh."

Ahana's cheeks warmed. "Maybe he was looking at someone else!"

Kriti gave her a knowing smirk. "Maybe. Or maybe you have a secret admirer."

Ahana laughed it off, but part of her heart skipped a beat at the idea. It was silly. Why would a 9th standard boy look at her? She was just... her. Not even class monitor material.

Devansh, meanwhile, was still standing near the railing, earbud long paused. His friends had left. He didn't even realize the bell had rung for the last time today.

He watched the two girls laugh over something silly, the way Ahana covered her mouth when she laughed too hard — as if trying to contain her joy like it wasn't meant to be shared.

He wasn't smiling.

But he wasn't bored either.

He pulled out a pen from his pocket and absently scribbled a single word on the palm of his hand.

"Sharma"

Just that. Nothing else.

Then wiped it off like it meant nothing.

End of Chapter One