After colliding with the rock-solid chest, Kashvi winced, immediately raising a hand to rub her throbbing forehead. The impact had knocked her off balance, but before she could fall back, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap securely around her shoulders to steady her.

She blinked and looked up. The guy was staring down at her, his eyes locked onto hers. His expression was a mix of slight confusion and mild concern as he checked if she was hurt.

But Kashvi was completely frozen. All she could notice was the way his beautiful hair fell softly across his forehead, and his eyes-those striking, honey-brown eyes-made her heart suddenly go thump, thump, thump. She had absolutely no idea what this strange, fluttering feeling was.

The guy, who was none other than Kiyansh, gently set her back on her feet and let go. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm.

Kashvi stammered, her mind completely blank as if she had suddenly forgotten how to form sentences. "Yeah... yeah, I am okay," she managed to squeak out, immediately dropping down to collect the items that had scattered all over the floor.

Aakarsh scoffed from behind, folding his arms. "Kiki, can't you see where you're going? Why are you behaving like Adhira? Woh bhi aise hi andhon ki tarah chalti hai."

Kashvi shot a sharp glare at her brother. She continued gathering her shopping bags, and Kiyansh dropped down beside her to help. His own bags had fallen during the collision, so he quietly picked up his stuff while handing her hers. Within a few moments, everything was cleared up.

Anvay looked at the girl, then turned to his friend with a raised eyebrow. "Who is she? Kaise jaanta hai isse?"

"Uh, she is my younger sister," Aakarsh introduced.

Anvay offered a warm smile. "Hi!"

"Hi," Kashvi replied politely.

Aakarsh then gestured toward the two brothers. "Kiki, yeh Anvay hai aur yeh Kiyansh. Donon bhai hain, aur ab se yeh hamare school mein hi padhenge."

Kashvi's eyes instinctively drifted back to Kiyansh. He caught her gaze and gave her a subtle, polite nod. Kashvi quickly looked away, trying her absolute best not to make her sudden fascination too obvious to everyone else.

Aakarsh scanned the area, suddenly realizing someone was missing.

"Kashvi, waise Adhira kahan hai?"

Hearing the name, Kashvi turned to her brother and flashed a wide, overly stretched, mischievous smile. She slowly swayed her body from left to right, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

"Bhai... aapne didi ko kya promise kiya tha, yaad hai?"

The words hit Aakarsh like a lightning bolt. Total shock and pure terror gripped his face as his eyes widened. "Oh no..." he muttered, his voice trembling. He abruptly turned to Anvay and Kiyansh, entirely panicked.

"Sorry guys, ab main tumse seedhe school mein milunga ya call karunga. Bye for now!"

Without waiting for a response, Aakarsh bolted out of the store entrance like a superfast bullet train, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

Anvay blinked in utter confusion, staring at the empty doorway.

"Kya hua isko? Itna kyon bhag raha hai?"

Kashvi burst out laughing, shaking her head.

"Kuchh nahin, unhone didi ki kisi bohot pyaari cheez ko tod diya hai, isliye apni jaan bacha kar bhag rahe hain."

She said it casually, completely used to the daily high-stakes drama between her older siblings.

As she finished speaking, her eyes automatically wandered back to Kiyansh. He, however, seemed perfectly occupied looking elsewhere, subtly avoiding her gaze.

Realizing she needed to catch up with the chaos, Kashvi adjusted her bags.

"Ok, bye!" she called out to the brothers, quickly turning on her heel to follow the direction her brother had vanished into.

After billing, Anvay and Kiyansh headed straight back to their house. The moment they stepped through the front door, Anvay groaned, slouching his shoulders. "I am tired now, main apne kamre mein ja raha hoon."

Kiyansh rolled his eyes, adjusting the heavy bags in his hands. "At least try your dress, man."

"I already tried it in the store, yaar. Now I am going, I am feeling so lazy," Anvay muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he trudged up the stairs.

Kiyansh just shook his head at his brother's laziness and walked into his own room.

He tossed the shopping bags onto the bed, but as he stared at them, an unexpected heaviness suddenly washed over him.

A wave of suffocating memories flashed through his mind, causing him to catch his breath sharply.

His chest tightened. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. He forced himself to take slow, deep, stabilizing breaths, fighting to calm his racing heart.

"It is okay, Kiyansh," he muttered to himself, his voice a low whisper in the quiet room. "Don't think about it. You were not wrong. You were never wrong, you know that... just move on from that."

After a few moments, he pulled his hands away, feeling a bit more grounded. Deciding to distract himself, he grabbed the shopping bags to try on the new uniform.

He pulled out the crisp white shirt-the standard regular uniform-and tried it on. The school had different uniforms for different days, clubs, and activities, but the base regular attire was a classic white shirt, trousers, and a structured, sleeveless vest jacket worn under the blazer.

Kiyansh reached into the bag and pulled out the wrapped vest jacket. But the moment he unfolded it, he froze.

The tailoring was entirely wrong. It was strictly designed with a sharply nipped-in waist, a pattern that fastened right over left, and smaller, delicate lapels and pockets. It was visibly a girl's uniform-and far too small for his frame.

Kiyansh put a hand to his forehead, his brain working fast as he recalled the chaotic collision at the store. The bags.

When he and that girl, Kashvi, had dropped everything on the floor, their identical paper shopping bags must have gotten completely mixed up in the rush.

He grabbed his hair in frustration, letting out a groan. "What the hell... Ab mujhe usse baat karni padegi aur yeh wapas dena hoga. I'll ask Anvay to call Aakarsh, get her number, and exchange our jackets."

He neatly folded the tiny vest jacket, intending to slip it back into the paper bag. But as he lifted the bag, he noticed it still felt surprisingly heavy at the bottom. Curious, he peeked inside and noticed a thick book hidden beneath the tissue paper.

He pulled it out and read the title.

In an instant, it felt like his soul had abruptly left his body. His eyes stretched wide in absolute, jaw-dropping shock, and a sudden, fierce heat rushed straight to his cheeks, turning them bright red.

His hands started trembling.

With a panicked gasp, he practically threw the book back into the paper bag as if it had burned him.

He vigorously shook his hands and shoulders, a look of sheer, scandalized disbelief crossing his face.

He felt completely mortified just having touched the cover of whatever wild, highly inappropriate fiction book that girl had been hiding in her shopping bag.

Mishra Nivas

Meanwhile, back at the Mishra residence, the atmosphere was entirely different.

"Abey tu pagal hai kya? Tera dhyaan kahan rehta hai!" Adhira yelled, pacing around the bedroom.

Kashvi stood in the corner, looking like a pitiful, helpless child getting thoroughly scolded by her mother. They had just unpacked their shopping bags, only to find a distinctly broad, male-tailored vest jacket sitting on the bed.

"Toh kya hua, didu?" Kashvi whined, trying to defend herself. "Galti se exchange ho gaya na, what's wrong in this? Hum wapas le lenge unse."

"Tujhe samajh nahi aa raha main kya keh rahi hoon!" Adhira cried out, pure, unadulterated horror washing over her face as she gripped her hair.

"The main problem is... jo bag us ladke ke paas chala gaya hai, usme meri books ke saath-saath teri woh book bhi thi! Aur tujhe acche se pata hai woh kis tarah ki book hai!"

The sheer terror on Adhira's face was fully visible. She knew exactly what kind of wild, adult romance fiction her little sister secretly loved to read online and in print. Adhira had repeatedly denied her permission to read such mature stuff, scolding her that it was completely inappropriate for her age.

But Kashvi had always just shrugged it off, whining, "Are didu, it is just a fiction book!"

Now, realizing that a completely random, straight-laced guy from the uniform shop was holding a bag containing a highly scandalous romance novel, both sisters stared at the mixed-up uniform jacket in absolute dread.

"Now what should we do?" Kashvi asked, her voice cracking with rising panic.

"What? What? First of all, I don't know who the hell that person even was!" Adhira fired back, pacing the room frantically.

"And if Aakarsh knows him, and that person somehow opens the bag and tells him what kind of rubbish, scandalous stuff you read... just think how you will handle it!"

A wave of pure horror washed over Kashvi's face as the reality of the situation finally set in. She rushed over to Adhira, throwing her arms around her waist, completely begging.

"Didu, please, please find some way! Please pull me out of this!"

Adhira rolled her eyes, gently prying her sister off her. "Stop it. Let me think of a way," she snapped, trying to force herself to stay calm.

Both sisters fell into a tense silence, desperately racking their brains.

Adhira bit down on her index finger, pacing back and forth, trying to conjure a rescue plan, when a sudden, loud knock on the bedroom door startled them both.

"Kiki, Aru, darwaza kholo!"

Adhira pulled the door open to find Aakarsh standing there, holding his phone. He looked at them suspiciously.

"What is this, Kiki? Did you exchange your shopping bag with Kiyansh?"

Kashvi swallowed hard and gave a stiff, guilty nod.

Aakarsh held out his hand. "Okay, give me his jacket back. I am going to his place right now to return it and get your bag back."

The two sisters instantly locked eyes, their hearts dropping into their stomachs. If Aakarsh went, he might look inside the bag on the way!

"No, no! Main chali jaungi aur exchange kar lungi," Adhira interjected quickly, trying to sound casual.

Aakarsh looked at her like she had grown a second head. "Tu akeli jayegi? Tu rasta bhatak jaati hai kahin bhi, phir mujhe tujhe dhundhna padta hai. Mama meri band baja denge agar tujhe kuchh hua toh! Isliye aap aaram se yahan baitho, main bike se jaunga aur le aunga."

Kashvi leaned in close to Adhira, whispering in absolute dread, "Ab kya karein? Phas gaye."

Adhira let out a defeated sigh, muttering back, "Ab okhli mein sir diya hai, toh musal toh padega hi. Dekh le behan, ab de de."

With trembling hands, Kashvi walked over to the bed, grabbed the paper bag containing Kiyansh's jacket, and handed it over to Aakarsh.

Inside, her heart was screaming in prayer, practically begging the universe that Kiyansh hadn't opened the bag yet, that he hadn't seen the book, and that Aakarsh wouldn't peek inside on his ride over.

Aakarsh grabbed the bag carelessly, completely oblivious to the radioactive embarrassment sitting at the bottom of it, and turned around to head downstairs.

A D H I R A 's P O V

Finally, the day is here. We are going back to school after the 10th board exams and months of endless holidays. It's our very first day as 11th graders.

Honestly, it feels a little different this time.

A new uniform, a new stream, and maybe even a completely new section-who knows? I still don't fully understand why I chose the commerce stream, especially since it's filled with such heavy, calculating subjects.

But all I know is that in my field, the textbook studies don't matter as much as the actual practice, the talent, and the confidence. That's all. If it were up to me, I wouldn't even study after the 10th.

I mean, I know proper English, I can converse with anyone fluently, and I have almost all the basic knowledge required to survive as a normal citizen.

But who is going to convince Indian parents? I don't know why they are never satisfied.

They always want you to do better, better, and better next time. Why don't they understand that in their pursuit of making their children "better," the poor students end up turning into crushed dosa batter?

I sighed, smoothing down the crisp fabric of my new uniform. I buttoned up the collar of my white shirt, adjusted the pleats of my skirt, and pulled up my high-length stockings before securing the tie. After fastening the cuffs around my wrists and buckling my belt, I stood in front of the mirror and began parting my hair to braid it.

For some reason, a strange, unfamiliar feeling was settling in my chest. I really couldn't wrap my head around it. Maybe it was just the anxiety of returning to school after months, but it had never felt quite like this before.

Well, whatever it was, as long as Aakarsh was with me, I knew I'd be fine. That's all I really needed. Whenever I'm in a horrible mood, he always has a million ridiculous ways to cheer me up.

"Didu, please meri braid bana do na," Kashvi whined, interrupting my thoughts as she barged into the room. She was holding a comb, her messy hair flying wildly in every direction.

This girl doesn't even know how to properly weave her own hair. And honestly, I will never understand why our school has this rock-hard, absolute rule that girls must wear exactly two braids.

Like, seriously? If we don't tie our hair into tight double braids, is our loose hair somehow going to fly across the campus and land straight into the Principal's lunch box?

"Sit," I told her. She obediently plopped down on the floor while I sat on the edge of the bed, unraveling her tangled knots and starting to weave her hair into neat braids.

As I worked, she looked up and sighed. "You know what? I feel like school seating should be changed. I want to be in the same section as you, didu."

I laughed softly, tightening the cross of her braid. "Toh ek-do saal pehle paida ho jaati na... Khudi late aayi ho hamari family mein."

"Arey toh ismein meri kya galti hai? Papa mummy ne hi late number lagaya," she muttered, her face twisting into a completely flat, unamused expression: 😑.

I giggled internally at her ridiculous logic but didn't hesitate to smack her shoulder with the comb.

"Ouch!" she winced, rubbing her arm and glaring up at me. "Maar kyon rahi ho? Pagal kahin ki!"

"Tu pagal!" I shot back.

Before our morning banter could escalate into a full-blown bedroom wrestling match, Choti Maa walked into the room holding two warm glasses of milk. "Come on, girls. Take it. Drink fast," she commanded, setting the glasses down on the nightstand.

I groaned, looking at the white liquid in despair. "Come on, Choti Maa! Since when are you going to stop forcing us to drink this? We are grown up now."

"Ah! You don't know anything," Choti Maa replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, a fond but stubborn smile on her lips.

"And you will never be grown up for me. So, without doing any rubbish drama, start drinking it. And one more thing-finish this and come down for breakfast quickly. You three have to leave for the bus stop soon, and Aakarsh is already downstairs devouring his food."

"By the way, what did you make for lunch, Bua?"Kashvi asked Choti Maa.

"Hmm, it's potato paratha. There's mango chutney and raita", Choti Maa replied.

"Wow! You've made a truly delicious breakfast, Choti Maa", I said.

Choti Maa walked over, patting my head affectionately. "It's your first day, isn't it? So everyone gets their favorite lunch. Your brother even demanded a separate breakfast for himself, and on top of that, the prince has taken pocket money to eat something from the canteen", she said.

"Yes, anyway, he just shares his lunch with his friends and runs to the canteen to eat. He's completely good-for-nothing", I replied, shaking my head.

"Well, just a minute", Choti Maa said. She turned around, pulled some money from under a tray, handed it to us, and said, "Take this, you two".

"But I refused, holding my hands up. What are we going to do with this, Choti Maa?"

She smiled warmly and insisted, "It's your first day, so keep it. You will meet new friends, who knows, you might even feel like eating something together".

"Choti Maa, you're the best!" I cheered, throwing my arms around her. It's Choti Maa who is the dearest to me in the entire world. Absolutely the best.

After that, we headed downstairs. We bowed our heads before the idol of Mahadev, paying our obeisance to God before joining the family. Both Papa and Mummy were sitting together, having their breakfast.

Papa looked up at us, his voice serious.

"Take care of yourself and don't indulge in too much fun. I shouldn't receive any complaints. And yes, since it is the first day, make your time table from today itself. Pay full attention to your studies. If you remain disciplined from day one, then discipline will remain till the last day. Understand?"

We just nodded our heads obediently. We couldn't really do anything more than that in front of him. We then touched Papa's feet for his blessings, took Mummy's blessings, and set out towards our destination-the school bus.

A short ride later, we were finally standing right in front of the grand gates of St. Aurelian Academics, our school.

By the way, the building standing in front of me is incredibly old. It has been passed down through generations, and it isn't just famous in Uttar Pradesh; it ranks as one of the top schools in India.

It has multiple branches. One is right here in Banaras-actually, I think there are two, but I have no idea where the second one is located. Just knowing the route to my own school is more than enough for me.

As grand and massive as this building looks, its expenses are equally huge. It is an incredibly high-fi, elite school, mostly populated by the children of ultra-rich families now. People say that anyone who graduates from this institution is guaranteed a bright future, securing top positions in every field.

However, all of that is just what lies on the surface. The outsiders don't know the real reality inside these walls. The high-society kids who study here frequently bully the students who get in through scholarships or come from lower-income backgrounds-the ones whose parents sacrifice their own basic needs just to afford the hefty fees. These rich brats genuinely believe that those students don't match their standard.

They behave as if they own the entire school and that it belongs to their fathers.

To be fair, they had tried to bully me too when we first joined. But I turned out to be hardcore Banarasia. I slapped them so hard that they never dared to wander anywhere near us again.

They don't dare trouble me, my brother, or my sister, because they know very well that picking a fight with Adhira Mishra is equivalent to inviting death itself.

I'm the kind of people who secretly carry a country pistol in my pocket. Though, that is a massive secret for now; how I got my hand on a pistol is a story I will share some other day.

Now, what next? I headed straight toward the senior wing, and Aakarsh walked right alongside me. I knew for a fact that we would share the same section.

We began scanning the student lists posted on the notice boards, hunting for our names, and just as expected, we found them under Section A-Grade 11 Commerce, Section A.

I seriously don't know why this section has to be like this. Am I the only one who thinks that all the rude, arrogant, and overly smart students are intentionally dumped together in Section A?

"Chal meri behna, main yahan bhi tere sath hoon", Aakarsh said, casually throwing his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me tight as we walked. If he had his way, he would probably choke me to death one of these days.

But I let it slide this time because he actually kept his promise and bought me that branded lipstick. And not just one this time-he got me two! I know he must have completely drained his pocket money for this, because it's a really costly brand, bro.

"Itna khush kyon ho raha hai? Iske karan main toh nahi hungi", I asked, eyeing his overly bright grin.

"Of course tu nahi hai, he countered playfully. Par mera dost aane wala hai aur uska aaj first day hai. Maine dekha hai uska naam bhi hamare sath hi hai... toh just buddy things, you would not understand".

"Is it really a buddy thing, or is it someone else? Because I know... I started" to tease him with a knowing look.

Before I could finish, he gave me a playful push and went to claim a seat. This guy... I swear I'll deal with him at home.

I marched ahead and placed my bag on the very first bench because I knew I would never enjoy sitting at the back. Sitting at the back just meant dealing with constant bullying and listening to the endless gossip of the high-society crowd.

Within a few minutes, the warning bell rang, signaling that we had to head downstairs to the ground for the morning assembly.

This school doesn't have a normal, quick assembly like other schools. It easily takes more than half an hour to wrap up-this song, that song, that prayer, a thought for the day, and all kinds of unnecessary stuff.

Since today was the first day of the new session, I knew the Principal was going to deliver a never-ending lecture. The assembly would drag on for at least an hour, and I was absolutely going to hate every second of standing through it. But what choice did I have? We had to attend it.

During the assembly, the Principal announced that she would be holding a student council meeting in fifteen days for the upcoming investiture ceremony. Now that we were the new seniors, it was a big deal. She also added that they would be awarding the student who secured Rank 1 in our school for the board exams.

By the time all of this wrapped up, I felt entirely drained. I walked back into the classroom and sank onto my bench. Needing an escape, I rested my head on the desk, diving right into my favorite activity-head down and sleep.

But suddenly, someone slammed a heavy school bag onto the desk right next to me. The harsh thud completely destroyed my peaceful slumber.

I snapped my head up, glaring at the culprit. A tall boy stood beside my desk, one hand resting casually on the chair, the other still holding the strap of the heavy school bag he had just dropped.

There was something strangely familiar about him. I was sure I had seen him somewhere before... but where?

At that moment, I wasn't interested in solving the mystery.

I was far more interested in introducing my palm to his face.

"What the hell? Can't you see I'm sleeping?" I barked, rubbing my forehead where the noise had nearly given me a heart attack.

He didn't even look guilty.

"Exactly," he replied in an annoyingly calm voice. "You're sleeping... on the front bench."

"So?"

"So the teacher will be here any minute."

"And?"

"And I sit on the front bench."

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Congratulations. Go sit somewhere else."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

His confidence irritated me even more.

"I came first. This seat is mine."

He folded his arms. "Did you buy it?"

"What?"

"The bench. Did you pay for it?"

I shot to my feet. "Listen, Mr. Overconfidence, don't test my patience."

"And you, Miss Sleeping Beauty, don't test mine."

For a second, we simply stared at each other, neither willing to blink.

"You are impossible."

"So I've been told."

"I'm not moving."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You will."

I crossed my arms stubbornly.

"Make me."

A faint smirk appeared on his face.

"Gladly."

Before I could react, he picked up my school bag as if it weighed nothing, shifted it to the other side of the bench, and placed it there with infuriating ease.

"Excuse me!" I shouted.

"Problem solved."

"My bag!"

"Your seat is still on the same bench."

I glared at him with enough intensity to burn a hole through his perfectly calm face.

"You seriously have the audacity-"

"And you seriously have the habit of sleeping in classrooms."

I was just about to snatch my bag back when the classroom suddenly fell silent.

"Good morning, class."

The teacher had entered.

Every student rushed to their places.

I clenched my jaw so hard it almost hurt. Throwing one final murderous glare at the arrogant idiot, I had no choice but to slide over to the other side of the bench.

He calmly took the seat beside me as though he had won some grand battle.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

​The teacher was new; I had never seen him around the campus before. He placed his heavy attendance register on the podium desk and turned to the board.

​"This is Keshav Rawat," he introduced, writing his name in crisp handwriting. "Students, from today, I will be your class teacher as well as your accountancy teacher. I am new to this branch, so let's use the first fifteen to twenty minutes of this session as an ice-breaker."

​He leaned against the podium and smiled warmly at the class.

"So, let's start with a little introduction. I am originally from Uttarakhand, I recently shifted here, and I have been teaching for the past fifteen years. Well, this is all from my side. Now, I would like it if you all introduced yourselves. Let's start with the first bench."

​With that, Sir looked straight at me. What the hell... I thought, completely unenthusiastic about standing up and delivering a speech. But with no other choice, I stood up, cleared my throat, and shrugged.

"I am Adhira Mishra, and I want to be an international makeup artist. If I do the makeup of a bride or a celebrity, I can easily earn one or two lakh rupees."

​Mr. Rawat smiled encouragingly at my blunt honesty, gesturing for me to sit, and then moved his eyes toward the guy sitting right beside me.

​I sat back down, my blood boiling. I am telling you, I am just waiting for the teacher to step out of this room so I can punch this guy. Plus, if Aakarsh finds out that this stranger is sitting right next to me and acting fresh, he is going to beat the living crap out of him.

​But where the hell was my brother anyway? Did he get stuck in the washroom? Honestly, why does he spend so much damn time in the washroom?

​"And you? What do you want to become?" the teacher asked, pointing to my seat partner.

​The guy stood up smoothly, adjusting his uniform collar. "I am Anvay Agarwal. I want to be her husband."

​The entire classroom went dead silent. My brain completely short-circuited. Before my conscious mind could even process the sheer audacity of his words, my hand acted on pure, unfiltered Banarasi instinct.

I snatched my heavy, metal-zippered pencil pouch from the desk and swung it with full force, slapping it right across his face.

​Smack!

​"Ow!" Anvay yelped, completely caught off guard as the pouch connected with his cheek. He stumbled slightly against the wooden edge of the bench, rubbing his face in shock.

​The class gasped loudly. Even Mr. Rawat looked like he didn't know whether to discipline us or call for school security.

​Realizing the sheer gravity of what he had just blurted out in front of a teacher on the very first day of school, Anvay quickly raised his hands in a frantic, defensive surrender.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry! I mean to say that, sir! Not her!" he stammered, his cool, effortless attitude briefly cracking into genuine panic.

​He cleared his throat quickly, trying to salvage whatever remained of his reputation, and looked back at the bewildered teacher.

"I mean to say, sir, that at the end of the day, all guys have to become someone's husband, right? So that's just the ultimate, realistic goal of my life!"

​He said it with such a sudden, chilled-out shrug that you would think he was discussing the weather. With complete nonchalance, he slid back into his seat beside me.

​He carefully picked up my fallen pencil pouch from the desk, dusted it off with his sleeve, and slid it back over to my side with a sheepish, apologetic grin.

"Sorry, sorry, Madam," he muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes fixed on the blackboard.

​I grabbed the pouch back, clutching it like a weapon. My cheeks were burning with pure, unadulterated rage. Just wait till the bell rings...

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That's it for today hope you like it and please comment . How was the chapter and please follow me on Instagram and subscribe my YouTube channel for the spoilers and video edits o