The sun peeked through the stained windows of the store-room-turned-bedroom as Ruhi stirred awake. Her alarm buzzed faintly—almost drowned by the sounds of traffic and barking dogs outside. She sat up slowly, folded her blanket with care, and murmured the morning mantras under her breath.
After a cold bucket bath, she slipped into a simple peach kurti and jeans, tied her wet hair into a braid, and added her usual grace—a small black bindi and silver jhumkas that dangled softly, catching the morning light.
In the cramped kitchen, she hurriedly prepared poha and chai. She set the plates for everyone, wiped the table, and just as she was about to leave—
The door creaked.
Ritika Sharma, still in her club dress, heels in one hand and smudged makeup on her face, walked in with tired eyes and a mocking smirk.
Ritika (sneering):
"Wow Ruhi, you’re still playing ‘ghar ki naukrani’? And what’s this? Kurti again? Kitni beizzati karti hai tu apni shakal ki har roz."
Ruhi said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her silence was her shield.
She simply picked up her mother’s old pale pink saree, wrapped it in a clean cloth, slung her bag on her shoulder, and left the house without a word—her eyes fixed ahead, heart pounding with quiet fire.
Scene: A Home Away from Home – Saanvi’s House
At Saanvi’s house, warmth awaited her.
Saanvi's Mom (smiling):
"Ruhi beta, yeh saree kitni sundar hai! Aaj toh college mein sab tumhe hi dekhenge."
Saanvi’s Dad (jokingly):
"Anchor toh dono ho, lekin spotlight Ruhi pe rahegi!"
Ruhi laughed lightly, her eyes glimmering with something rare—acceptance.
After changing, Saanvi helped drape the saree perfectly—elegant, modest, but stunning. A little kajal, a subtle lipstick, and she was transformed.
Both girls left for college in high spirits, their eyes set on the college gates, unaware that inside, destiny was already seated in the chief guest’s chamber—waiting.
The college grounds buzzed with excitement. The annual fest was in full swing—stalls, music, banners, and students running everywhere in traditional attire.
At the VIP entrance, the entire Rathore family arrived in full grace and presence:
Abhimaan Singh Rathore, dressed in a sharp navy blue sherwani, calm and commanding.
Veer Rathore, quietly following his brother, clad in a classic beige kurta, eyes low but observant.
Ranveer Singh Rathore in a cream Nehru jacket, waving with pride.
Mrs. Rathore, glowing in a pastel saree, holding Rhea’s hand.
Rhea, energetic as ever, recording everything on her phone for her stories.
Even Ma and Papa were there, seated with some board members of the college.
They were welcomed by the college principal and faculty, who bent slightly too low in their respect.
Principal (nervous excitement):
“Welcome, Rathore family. It is an honor to have the entire empire gracing us. Sir, your speech will begin in fifteen minutes. The anchors will take the stage right after your welcome.”
Abhimaan (in his usual serious tone):
“Time should be followed precisely. No delays.”
Just then…
From the opposite hallway, Ruhi and Saanvi rushed in, their sarees fluttering, scripts clutched in their hands, unaware of the arrival.
Rhea (nudging Veer):
"Look at those two anchors—cute energy, na?"
Abhimaan’s sharp eyes caught movement across the floor.
He looked up.
His gaze locked on Ruhi.
The stage glittered with fairy lights, students buzzed in excitement, and classical music played softly as the program was about to begin.
The Rathore family had just settled in the VIP section.
Dada Sa sat comfortably on the sofa, arms crossed, surveying the crowd.
Ma and Papa exchanged greetings with the trustees.
Veer, as always, sat quietly beside his elder brother, sipping water.
Abhimaan, standing behind them with hands clasped behind his back, said nothing—his sharp eyes casually scanning the stage... and stopping briefly on a girl in white saree adjusting her mic with calm precision.
Rhea (leaning toward Veer, grinning):
"Tu notice kar raha hai Ruhi aur Saanvi ko? Kitne opposite hain na dono!"
Veer (softly, with a nod):
"Haan... ek dum alag personalities hain."
Rhea (amused):
"Saanvi toh full drama queen hai, hamesha spotlight mein rehna hai usse... aur Ruhi? Woh toh bilkul simple. Saaree mein bhi itni elegant lag rahi hai jaise kisi old classic film se nikli ho."
From behind, Abhimaan’s eyes flickered toward Ruhi again, but his expression remained unreadable.
Rhea (leaning closer, in a lower voice):
"Tujhe pata hai Veer, Ruhi full scholarship student hai. Bahut mushkil life rahi hai uski. Par dekh na uska grace… it’s like she carries her pain with poise."
Veer (quietly, almost respectfully):
"Hmm... lagta hai woh waise hi strong hai."
Rhea (teasing lightly):
"Strong toh hai, par kisi ko dikhati nahi. Tu notice karega na, woh kabhi zyada baat bhi nahi karti crowd mein."
Abhimaan shifted slightly, arms still folded, but his gaze hadn't left the stage. He was listening. Carefully. Observing.
Rhea (still to Veer, smirking):
"Bas, mujhe toh lagta hai usme kuch alag hi charm hai. Woh woh type ki ladki hai jise log yaad rakhte hain... bina loud hue."
Veer gave a small nod.
Abhimaan didn’t say a word—but the flicker in his eyes as Ruhi began speaking was unmistakable.And the world, for a second, held its breath.
She wasn’t dressed expensively. But there was something timeless in her poise, in the way the pale pink saree swayed around her. Her eyes lifted just in time to meet his.
No fear. No awe.
Only calm silence.
Saanvi (whispering to Ruhi):
“Woh jo saamne Rathore family khadi hai na, unmein sabse aage jo blue sherwani mein hai… wahi hai college ke malik.”
Ruhi (softly, still looking at Abhimaan):
"Hmm… aankhon mein kuch kehne ka tareeqa alag hai."
A voice interrupted them—it was the backstage coordinator.“Girls! You’re up next, mic check in two minutes!”
The spotlight bathed the stage in soft golden warmth. Classical music faded gently as the microphone sparked to life.
Ruhi, dressed in a beautiful soft pink saree with delicate silver embroidery — her late mother’s — stood poised beside Saanvi, who beamed in a bright sky-blue lehenga.
Saanvi (cheerfully):
"Good morning everyone! Aap sab ka swagat hai is saal ke Annual Fest mein!"
Ruhi (with calm elegance):
"Jahan kalakar sirf performance nahi dete… balki apne sapno ko jeete hain."
Her voice was low, but steady — it silenced the audience with its clarity. Eyes turned. So did Abhimaan Rathore, seated in the front row, his back straightening slightly.
His gaze locked on her.
Rhea (whispering to Veer, a soft smirk playing on her lips):
"Tu notice kar raha hai na… Ruhi kitni composed lag rahi hai. Aur Saanvi uska total opposite — full chaos."
Veer (quietly):
"Haan… par dono mein balance hai."
Rhea (smiling):
"Isi liye toh bestfriends hain. Saanvi zyada bolti hai, Ruhi bas ek line mein sab kuch keh deti hai."
A few seats away, Abhimaan’s sharp eyes didn’t move from Ruhi’s face. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t comment — but he was listening. Closely.
Ruhi (with soft poise):
"Aaj ka din sirf celebration ka nahi… naye rishte, nayi yaadein banane ka hai."
She glanced once across the audience. The flash of intense eyes staring back made her pause for the briefest moment — Abhimaan Rathore.
Their eyes met. Only for a second.
She quickly looked away. He didn’t.
Ruhi took a deep breath as Sanvi gently pushed her forward, whispering, “Just go, Ruhi. Give him the bouquet.”
Her steps were slow and hesitant. Standing at 5'2", she felt even smaller as she approached Abhimaan, who stood tall at 6'1" — calm, composed, and intimidating in every way. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground, too nervous to look up at the towering figure in front of her. Her heart was beating fast, and her hands felt cold. She didn’t want to go near him — not because he had done anything wrong, but because there was something about him… something that made her feel small and exposed.
As she reached in front of him, still looking down, she extended the bouquet with both hands.
She could feel his presence — calm, still, but intense.
What she didn’t know was that Abhimaan hadn’t taken his eyes off her even for a second. His sharp gaze followed her every movement — the way she avoided looking at him, the way her hands trembled slightly, and how she kept her eyes lowered as if afraid to meet his.
To everyone else, it was just a formal moment. But for him, it was something else.
And Ruhi? She just kept thinking, Why does it feel like he’s looking right through me?
Ruhi stepped back slowly after pinning the badge on Abhimaan’s suit, her fingers trembling slightly. She didn’t dare look into his eyes again, afraid that she might lose the little courage she had left. Abhimaan, on the other hand, kept his eyes fixed on her — not saying a word, yet his silence was louder than any voice.
Sanvi quickly handed Ruhi the bouquet, nudging her to give it to him. Ruhi hesitated for a second, but then took a deep breath and extended it toward Abhimaan. Their fingers brushed for a moment, and that was enough to send a strange chill down her spine.
"Thank you," Abhimaan said briefly, his voice deep and emotionless, yet something about the way he said it made Ruhi feel like it wasn't just a simple thank you.
Sanvi, excited, whispered in Ruhi’s ear, “He’s not that scary, right?”
Ruhi didn’t answer. Her mind was already racing. Why does he look at me like that? So cold, so intense… like he can read my thoughts. He’s dangerous, yes... but why does my heart feel strange around him?
Abhimaan turned and walked to the mic to deliver his speech. The crowd applauded. He spoke confidently about discipline, success, and power — all the things he believed in. But while speaking, his eyes occasionally flickered toward Ruhi, who sat at the side, trying not to notice.
Later, when the event ended, everyone stood up for group photos. The principal called Sanvi and Ruhi again to join Abhimaan for a photo. As they stood beside him, Ruhi could feel his presence so strongly that it made her nervous all over again. Just when the camera was about to click, Abhimaan leaned slightly toward her and whispered, “You don’t need to be scared of me... unless you give me a reason.”
Ruhi froze. Her heartbeat quickened. What did he mean? Was that a warning or... something else?
And just like that, a new fear... or curiosity... took birth in Ruhi’s heart.
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