13.That was the beginning

*Flashback*

The day Vishal stepped into their school, Riya was absent. She had caught a mild fever and stayed home, scrolling through her phone and sleeping most of the time. She didn't know that someone would arrive in her absence who would later turn her world upside down.

The next morning, Riya was welcomed by a wave of excited chatter from her friends. Priya, Sana, and Aanya were already gathered at the corner of the school field, laughing.

"Riya!" Priya called out as soon as she spotted her.

"You missed the most hilarious thing yesterday," Sana added, almost unable to control her laughter.

Riya raised an eyebrow, sliding into the circle. "What happened?"

"There's a new boy," Aanya began, eyes shining, "Vishal. First day. He entered class and… vomited! Right there! On the floor!"

All three of them burst out laughing.

Riya blinked. "He… vomited?"

Sana nodded, tears forming in her eyes from laughing too hard. "He looked so nervous, poor guy. But it was funny, yaar!"

Riya didn't laugh. She just tilted her head. What kind of guy vomits on his first day? she thought. Maybe he's just weak.

---

Two days later, she saw him for the first time

Riya was always on time. She didn't like delays, whether it was homework or reaching school. She believed that time was the one thing people wasted most in life. That morning, like every other, she reached class exactly ten minutes before the bell rang.

She was rearranging her books when the door creaked open and he walked in—Vishal. His posture was lazy, shoulders slouched. His shoes weren't polished. And to her horror, he wasn't even wearing the school uniform properly—shirt untucked, tie missing, and hair disheveled.

She eyed him up and down, unimpressed. Who comes to school like this?

She turned to her friends and whispered, "Forty minutes late. His house is literally in the next street. What is he doing, flying here?"

They giggled.

And just like that, the idea of him settled in her mind—not with admiration, not with curiosity, just mild annoyance.

They didn't talk. Days passed. There was only silence between them. Occasionally, when Riya missed a class due to extracurriculars, she would ask for his notes. He never smiled when handing them over. Just nodded. She would thank him, and he'd look away. But every time she walked past, she could feel his eyes lingering. Watching. Observing. As if trying to understand something about her that even she didn't know.

---

One random Thursday, the teacher was absent. The class turned into chaos. Boys were throwing paper balls, girls chatting in groups, and the noise echoed through the corridor.

Araav, one of the more playful classmates, leaned over to Riya. "You know what I think?"

She looked up from her notebook. "What?"

"I think Vishal likes Sana."

Riya blinked. Then smirked. "What?"

"He's always sitting close to your group. Always pretending to ask you something, but his eyes are on Sana."

Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Oh, is that so?"

Later, while Vishal was flipping through a book at his desk, Riya sauntered over with the confidence of a queen. She sat beside him casually, leaning her elbows on the table.

"You like Sana?" she whispered near his ear, smirking. "It's okay, I can help you get close to her."

Vishal looked at her. For a moment, there was silence. Then he leaned in, and what he said next made her eyes widen.

It wasn't something nice. It wasn't respectful.

Shocked but still holding her usual playfulness, Riya raised her hand and lightly slapped him. Not hard, not angry—just enough to express that he had crossed a line.

Vishal's face turned hard.

"You shouldn't have slapped me," he said slowly. "I'm leaving you because you're a girl. If you were a boy, you'd be in the hospital by now."

She tilted her head, unfazed. "So you can do something?"

And with that, she walked off.

But that night, something strange happened.

Riya dreamt of Vishal.

Not the angry, late-coming, uniformless Vishal.

No, this Vishal was different. Softer. His eyes weren't hard; they were deep. And in that dream, he was holding her close, whispering things she couldn't quite remember. They kissed—softly, like something that was meant to happen. There were no classrooms, no friends, no school. Just them.

She woke up breathless.

What the hell was that?

---

From that day, something shifted. She didn't want it to. She didn't mean to let it. But she started noticing him more.

The way his fingers tapped when he was thinking. The way he smiled at jokes from the last bench. The way he walked—with purpose, even if he was late.

Still, she told no one. Especially not Sana.

She believed he liked Sana.

So what was the point?

---

Until one afternoon.

The class was noisy again. Vishal's friends had taken the front seats for once, and Sana and Riya were chatting behind them.

"I don't know," Riya was whispering. "Maybe I've started liking him. I don't even know how it happened. Maybe it was that dream, or the way he looks at things. I feel stupid."

Sana raised her eyebrows. "You serious?"

"Yeah," Riya said softly. "But don't tell anyone."

Unfortunately, someone else already heard.

Vishal's friends turned around with wide grins. "You like Vishal?"

She froze. "No! I was just joking!"

But they knew. She could see it in their expressions. And later that evening, she found out—they had told him.

*end of flashback*

---

Present Day

Riya lay in bed, eyes staring at the ceiling.

So he knew. All of it.

Every word, every feeling she thought she had hidden so well.

The flashbacks refused to stop. Her cheeks burned at the memory of whispering into his ear, the slap, the dream, the laughter, the note exchanges, the silence.

How had it all become this tangled?

The silence of her room was pierced by the loud buzzing of her phone.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Notifications poured in. Instagram. WhatsApp. Messages.

She blinked.

What now?

The loud buzzing of Riya's phone broke the silence of her room. Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze darted to the screen. She had almost forgotten about the world outside her thoughts. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The notifications flooded in, each ping more urgent than the last.

Riya blinked, sitting up in bed and grabbing her phone, her pulse quickening. Instagram. WhatsApp. Multiple messages. She opened the first notification on WhatsApp, the name flashing at the top of the screen:

Vishal.

Her heart did a strange flip in her chest, but she didn't let herself think too much. Just a message. Just a simple message.

The message read:

Hey, Riya. Can we talk?

Her breath caught in her throat. Talk? What could he possibly want to talk about now? She had already dealt with enough confusion and doubts. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of what to type back.

Before she could answer, another notification popped up. This time, it was from Sana. Her best friend, who, after the day at school, seemed to have caught on to everything.

Sana: Riya, I know. I saw you looking at him. Do you think he feels the same?

Riya stared at the message, a strange mix of guilt and hope swirling within her. Does he?

She didn't have time to reply before another ping came through. This time, it was a message from Aanya.

Aanya: You've been acting strange lately. Don't avoid me tomorrow, okay? Let's talk.

Riya leaned back against her pillows, staring at the screen, her mind racing. What am I supposed to do now?

She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Vishal had already left her confused. But now, there were so many voices—Sana's curiosity, Aanya's concern—and a deeper, nagging feeling that she couldn't ignore.

The phone buzzed again.

Vishal: Riya, please. I need to explain some things.

That was it. He was reaching out. Her chest tightened. She had always known Vishal had a way of pulling her back, and now it was happening all over again. She had promised herself she wouldn't get caught in this whirlwind of feelings again. But here it was, staring her in the face.

What was he about to say? What was she going to do now?

Riya set the phone down, her fingers trembling slightly. She needed time. Time to think. Time to decide what she truly wanted—what she could handle.

But the uncertainty of everything, the tangled mess of emotions, made it feel impossible to find clarity.

Would Vishal's message be the moment that would change everything again? Or was it just another step toward heartache?

She didn't know. But she had to face it.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would figure it out.