Chapter 12: The Girl Who Remembers

The sun was merciless that day, baking the village roads into cracked mosaics. The bell rang for the mid-afternoon break, and the students rushed outside, seeking refuge under trees or lining up at the school's handpump. Dust swirled around them like a restless spirit.

Ishan walked toward the far end of the courtyard, a slight scowl etched into his features. His notebook was tucked under his arm, filled with calculations and schemes about the land dispute. It was supposed to be a regular school day, but nothing about his life was regular anymore.

He sat beneath a neem tree, flipping through his notes, ignoring the buzz around him. That was until a voice broke through his thoughts like a stone through glass.

"Still acting like you own the world, are we?"

He looked up.

She stood with her arms crossed, her school bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. Dark, sharp eyes. A sun-kissed face framed by loose strands of black hair that refused to stay tied. Her uniform was imperfect, the hem of her skirt slightly frayed, but her posture was defiant, unbending.

Ishan raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Asha," she said. "Someone who lives in the real world. Unlike you, prince of fantasyland."

The kids nearby snickered. Ishan frowned.

"Is this how you introduce yourself? By insulting people who haven't spoken to you?"

"I speak to people who think they're better than everyone else," she said, taking a step closer. "You walk around correcting teachers, lecturing seniors, and acting like this place is beneath you."

He stood, brushing dust from his pants. "And if it is?"

Her eyes flashed.

"Then maybe you should go back to wherever you came from. This is a village, not a boardroom."

He stared at her, something strange tickling the back of his mind. Her face... her tone... There was something familiar. Not in a way he could explain. More like a distant echo from a dream.

"Asha," he repeated quietly, almost tasting the name.

She didn't wait for a response. She turned and strode away, her footsteps kicking up dust.

Parth appeared at his side. "That's Asha Patel. She's kind of a legend here. Top student. Brave. Stubborn as a mule."

Ishan watched her retreating figure. "Does she always talk like that?"

"Only when she's angry. Or passionate. Which is... most of the time."

Later that day, during the science class, Asha raised her hand with a confidence that demanded attention.

"Sir, with respect, your explanation of Newton's Third Law was incomplete. You forgot to mention that the forces act on different bodies, which is why they don't cancel each other."

The teacher blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Asha."

Ishan smiled faintly.

So she didn't just challenge him. She challenged everyone. Including authority.

He found himself watching her, not just with curiosity—but intrigue. The way she carried herself. The way her eyes scanned a room, searching for imbalance. The way her words struck with precision.

He was used to admiration, flattery, fear.

But not this.

Not someone who looked at him like he was just another person to correct.

By the time the final bell rang, Ishan had already decided.

He had to know more about her.

He waited by the school gates until she walked out. She noticed him immediately.

"Following me now?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No," he replied. "I wanted to talk."

"Didn't seem like you needed anyone to talk to. You've been a one-man army since day one."

He hesitated. "You seem... familiar. Have we met before?"

She tilted her head. "You hit your head recently or something?"

He chuckled lightly. "Something like that."

She looked at him carefully. Then shrugged. "Maybe you saw me at a protest. I've been to a few. Or maybe you noticed me when I stood up to that teacher who called the girls 'too emotional' for science."

"You do a lot of standing up."

"Someone has to."

They walked together in silence for a few minutes.

Ishan stole glances at her. There was a raw honesty in her expression, a fire in her voice. She reminded him of someone... but not from this life.

He tried to remember.

There had been a gala. A charity event. His company hosted it every year.

And in the crowd, a girl in the catering team. She had tripped while holding a tray and spilled wine on an investor's sleeve. Everyone had laughed. Except her. She had stood, eyes burning, and told the investor to apologize for laughing at her.

He had watched from afar.

Not helping.

Not even remembering her name.

Was it her?

Could she be the same person?

She turned to him suddenly. "What do you really want, Ishan?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You're not like other kids here. You talk like an adult. You observe everything. You're... different."

"And that bothers you?"

"No," she said simply. "But it makes me wonder what you're hiding."

He was silent.

Because she wasn't wrong.

That night, Ishan couldn't sleep.

He thought of her words.

He thought of her fire.

He thought of the strange twist of fate that brought someone like her into his second life.

Asha Patel.

The girl who remembered.

Maybe not his name.

But his kind.

His arrogance.

His world.

And she wasn't afraid to stand against it.

For the first time in this new life, Ishan felt a ripple of something beyond calculation.

Not threat.

Not admiration.

But something unsettling.

Something close to respect.

And curiosity.

Maybe... even fate.

He whispered into the darkness, eyes wide open.

"Who are you, really?"

And deep within his chest, something stirred.

Asha Patel.

The girl who challenged him.

The girl who might become his greatest ally.

Or his most dangerous mirror.