Aarav was exhausted.
His shoulders ached from lack of sleep, and his eyelids felt heavier with every passing minute. Life had been unusually demanding lately—juggling school, studying late into the night, handling house chores since his grandmother had fallen ill, and managing his part-time job at the supermarket.
And now, as the final cherry on this chaotic cake—he had to prepare for the inter-school competition. Not that he regretted it. Vivan had been persistent, and Aarav had agreed mostly for the sake of his grandmother. She had seemed so happy when she heard he was participating.
Still, that day, everything felt like a blur.
His first class passed in a haze, barely registering anything the teacher said. By the time the bell rang for the second period, which was sports, Aarav was walking down the stairs sluggishly, hoping the physical activity might wake him up a bit.
That’s when he saw her.
A girl was on the floor at the end of the corridor—kneeling, fumbling with papers that were scattered everywhere. She was muttering something under her breath, clearly frustrated. Her voice was sharp, irritated, and honestly, a little dramatic.
Aarav instinctively bent down and started picking up a few of the papers near him. He didn’t look at her face. Not out of rudeness—but because he was too tired to care. She sounded annoyed, and was muttering things like “stupid boys” and “idiots”.
Weird girl, he thought.
Still, he helped her quietly. He placed the papers on the nearby bench, nodded slightly to himself, and walked away before she could say anything else.
He didn’t know why he helped her. Maybe it was habit. Or maybe he just didn’t want to hear more complaints.
The day moved on, and by the time the last class ended, Aarav slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the courtyard where Vivan was already waiting for him.
“Hey! How’s the practice going?” Vivan asked as they walked toward the gate together.
“It’s going fine,” Aarav replied, stifling a yawn. “But I have to practice at night, so I’m not getting much sleep these days.”
Vivan looked guilty. “Sorry, Aarav. I shouldn’t have forced you into it.”
Aarav shook his head, managing a tired smile. “It’s okay. I know you did it for Grandma. And honestly… I’m doing it for her too.”
Vivan frowned. “Still, you already have so much on your plate. You need rest.”
“I’ll manage,” Aarav said, his voice firm despite the fatigue. “Don’t worry.”
He gave Vivan a small wave as they reached the junction. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”
As he walked toward the bus stop, the image of the girl from earlier flashed in his mind again. He never saw her face. But there was something strange about the moment… not dramatic, not romantic—just a vague, unsettled feeling.
Like their paths had crossed before fate was ready for them to meet.
When Aarav reached home, the house was silent. His grandmother was asleep in her bed, her frail figure tucked gently under a worn floral blanket. The soft sound of her breathing filled the room with a strange kind of comfort.
Without making much noise, Aarav changed out of his school uniform and slipped into a plain T-shirt and joggers. Then he headed to the kitchen and began preparing a simple bowl of porridge—something warm and easy on his grandmother’s weak stomach. Once it was ready, he placed it carefully on the table beside her bed, adjusting the lamp nearby so she could see it when she woke up.
Then, without resting even for a minute, he grabbed his sling bag and stepped out again for his part-time job.
He worked at a supermarket just five minutes away from his house. The convenience of the location helped him manage time, but the shift hours—4 PM to 9 PM—still drained whatever little energy he had left after school.
By the time he returned home that night, his body felt like lead.
He made dinner—something quick but filling—and quietly placed his grandmother’s share beside her again. She hadn’t stirred much that day. A part of him worried about it, but there wasn’t time to dwell.
After dinner, Aarav sat down at his study desk. He glanced at the clock. 10:15 PM.
His eyes were heavy, and his shoulders slouched, but he forced himself to focus. There were assignments due and notes to revise. The minutes dragged on, and by the time the clock struck twelve, he leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.
“God, I’m really tired. I just want to sleep…” he mumbled under his breath.
For a brief second, he considered lying down—just a quick rest. Maybe ten minutes.
But he knew himself. If he touched the bed now, he’d wake up the next morning with textbooks scattered on the floor and missed alarms echoing in his head.
No. Not yet.
Instead, he dragged himself to the kitchen and made a strong cup of coffee. The bitter aroma helped wake him up slightly. He took the mug back to his room and sat down near the window, where the silver moonlight spilled across his face like a silent blessing.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze and moon’s glow wash over him. The chaos of the day faded, just a little.
When he opened his eyes, something inside him shifted.
He picked up his guitar and quietly slipped out of the house. It was too late to practice indoors—he didn’t want to disturb his grandmother or the neighbours. So instead, he made his way to the small park down the lane, where no one would mind a few soft notes under the stars.
It was peaceful there. The trees swayed gently. The sky was clear. The bench under the lamppost was waiting for him, like it always did.
He sat down, positioned the guitar in his lap, and began to play.
The world was asleep.
But for now… he was still awake.
Aarav had been following the same exhausting routine for days—school, work, guitar practice, and late-night studying. The sleepless nights had begun to blur into each other, but somehow, he kept going.
And now, the day of the competition had finally arrived.
He was sitting backstage, surrounded by other participants, his guitar case beside him, fingers slightly trembling from a mix of adrenaline and nerves. The low hum of conversations, muffled announcements, and occasional laughter filled the backstage area like background noise in a dream.
Vivan, however, was far from calm. He was pacing back and forth in front of Aarav like a wind-up toy set on maximum speed.
“Vivan,” Aarav said, rubbing his temple, “can you please stop dancing?”
“I’m not dancing!” Vivan shot back, visibly annoyed, though his pacing didn’t slow.
“Calm down and sit here. I’m the one going up on stage—not you.”
“Dude, I’m your best friend. Isn’t it natural for me to be nervous?” Vivan argued, as if his anxiety was somehow more justified.
“Yes, but you're making me nervous too,” Aarav muttered.
Before Vivan could reply, the voice of the anchor echoed through the hall, crackling through the speakers.
“And now, our next performer—Aarav Sharma!”
Vivan instantly stopped pacing and turned toward Aarav, giving him a quick thumbs-up and a shaky grin. “Hey, it’s your turn! All the best!”
Aarav stood up, slung the guitar strap over his shoulder, and took a deep breath as he walked toward the stage entrance. His heart was thudding hard—too hard—but he kept his head up.
As he stepped under the bright lights and faced the large, waiting audience, a wave of unease washed over him. The spotlight felt hotter than he expected, and the rows of watching eyes made his palms sweat.
He tightened his grip on the guitar.
But then, almost instinctively, his thoughts shifted.
I’m doing this for Grandma.
That single thought grounded him. He inhaled deeply, slowly, and let the nervous buzz melt into a quiet focus.
Then he began to play.
The melody flowed out of him like a quiet confession. His fingers, though slightly stiff at first, loosened with each chord. The soft strums turned stronger, clearer, and his posture straightened as the music took over.
For the next few minutes, the world outside the stage ceased to exist.
When the final note faded into the silence, there was a pause.
Then the hall erupted into applause.
Aarav blinked, as if just waking up, and gave a small, grateful bow. “Thank you,” he said into the mic, his voice soft but steady.
As Aarav stepped off the stage, a subtle wave of relief washed over him. The audience’s applause still echoed faintly in his ears, but his mind had already started racing—thinking about the performance, about whether it had been good enough, and worst of all, what he would do if he didn’t win.
What if Grandma's medicines need to be bought next week and I can’t afford them? What if—
“Next performance is by Ishika Thakur!” the anchor’s voice rang out, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Still half-lost in anxiety, Aarav was descending the steps from the stage when he collided hard into someone.
"Watch where you're going!" a sharp voice snapped.
“I’m sor—” Aarav began, lifting his head instinctively.
And that was when he saw her.
For the first time.
She was standing in front of him, her eyes narrowed in irritation. Her long, silky hair framed her face, lightly brushing her cheeks as she moved. Her eyes—a brilliant shade of blue—shone under the stage lights, partially shielded by long, curling lashes. Her brows were furrowed in frustration, and her soft pink lips were moving—clearly saying something—but Aarav couldn't hear a word.
He was completely, hopelessly distracted.
“Hey! Are you even listening?” she said louder this time, snapping him out of his trance.
“Y-Yes, I’m listening,” he stammered, blinking rapidly.
She crossed her arms, still looking annoyed. “So you’re Aarav Sharma?”
Aarav tilted his head, confused. “Do you… know me?”
“Yes, actual—” she began, but was cut off mid-sentence as the anchor’s voice filled the hall again.
“Ishika Thakur, please come to the stage!”
Her expression shifted instantly. “Oh! That’s me,” she said, already turning to leave. “I’ll be back in five minutes, so stay here.”
And with that, she was gone—rushing to the stage, leaving Aarav standing there like a statue, still stunned from the encounter.
He watched her from backstage as she took her position under the lights. The guitar in her hands looked almost identical to his own.
Then she began to play.
Her fingers moved with precision and passion, and her presence on stage was powerful, glowing, unforgettable. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something familiar in her energy, yet he was certain he’d never seen her before.
She said she knew me… but from where?
The music poured out of her like it was part of her soul, and all Aarav could do was stand there and wonder.
Who was this girl?
And why did it feel like his life had just tilted slightly… in her direction?
“Hey, Aarav!”
Aarav turned away from the stage at the sound of his name and spotted Vivan waving energetically from the crowd near the backstage. Within seconds, his best friend was standing beside him, his eyes lit up with pride.
“You were awesome, man! I’m sure you’ll win this competition,” Vivan said, slapping his shoulder lightly.
“Yeah… thanks,” Aarav replied, offering a small smile.
“I told you, you’d be oka—”
Vivan was still speaking, but Aarav’s attention was elsewhere. His mind had already drifted back to the girl he had bumped into moments ago—her eyes, her voice, the way she said she knew him. Ishika.
“Aarav?” Vivan’s voice broke into his thoughts again as he placed a hand on Aarav’s shoulder.
“Yeah? Sorry, what?”
“Where on earth were you just now?” Vivan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No… I’m just tired, that’s all,” Aarav lied, his voice a little distant.
Vivan studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, you sit here. I’ll get you something to drink,” he said, already turning to leave.
Just seconds after Vivan disappeared into the crowd, a wave of applause echoed from the stage. Aarav looked toward the entrance as Ishika walked in, a light smile on her face, cheeks slightly flushed from her performance.
“You really played well,” Aarav said, standing up a little straighter.
“Thank you,” she replied, her smile widening.
“You were saying something before you left?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve met you before.”
Aarav blinked. “Sorry… I really don’t remember.”
He frowned slightly. There was no way he would forget someone like her. He searched his memories, but nothing came up. Surely, they had never met before—he would have remembered those eyes.
“I knew it,” she said with a knowing look. “You didn’t see me that day.”
That day? Aarav was even more puzzled now. Had he unknowingly ignored her?
“Umm… which day?” he asked, gently.
“Do you remember helping a girl a few days ago?” she asked, watching him closely.
Aarav’s brow furrowed in concentration. And then it hit him.
“That day in the library courtyard… the girl who dropped all her books near the stairs…”
“Yes!” she said, nodding. “That was me. I was about to ask your name, but my friend called me and when I turned back, you were already gone.”
“Oh!” Aarav laughed a little, embarrassed. “I’m really sorry. I had somewhere to be. I left in a bit of a rush.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “But thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For helping me that day.”
“Please,” Aarav said with a soft smile, “don’t mention it.”
They stood there for a few more minutes, talking casually—about the performances, the crowd, random things that made them laugh quietly. It felt strangely easy, like they’d known each other longer than they actually had.
Then a voice called from a distance.
“Ishika!”
She turned to look, saw her friends waving, and gave a quick wave back. Then she turned to Aarav.
“Okay, I’ve got to go. See you in class,” she said.
Aarav felt a faint smile tug at his lips as Ishika disappeared into the crowd. "See you in class," she had said. Just those four simple words made something light up inside him. Now that they had officially met, he could talk to her in class too. Somehow, that thought alone made him oddly happy.
“Aarav?”
He turned around and saw Vivan approaching with a cold juice can in his hand.
“Yeah?”
“What was she saying?” Vivan asked, handing over the drink.
“She was just thanking me. I helped her a few days ago.”
“Oh, I see.” Vivan’s tone was casual, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“By the way, how do you know her?” Aarav asked, cracking open the can.
“I overheard some girls talking about her in the library corridor.”
“What were they saying?” Aarav tilted his head.
“They said she’s short-tempered, kind of egoistic and stuff.”
Aarav frowned immediately. “That’s ridiculous. She’s not like that at all. She’s actually really… nice.”
Vivan raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really? You seem to know a lot about her.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Aarav said quickly.
“Oh?” Vivan grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. “And how exactly do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because I know you very well,” Aarav shot back with a half-laugh.
“Uh huh,” Vivan teased, nudging him playfully. “Our boy's already getting defensive.”
“Stop it, and let’s just go home,” Aarav said, shaking his head, but even as he said it, he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.
From the next day onwards, something subtly shifted.
Aarav and Ishika started talking in class—initially just casual greetings, then short conversations between lectures, and soon, they found themselves sharing lunch too. There was an ease between them that felt surprising, like they were slipping into a friendship that had been waiting to happen. And while neither of them said it out loud, it was clear to everyone around them—they were becoming a part of each other’s everyday routine.
