The cultural fest evening began sharp at 4 p.m. The entire ground of the Himalayan Civil Academy was glowing under strings of fairy lights and soft golden lamps. The main stage stood proudly in the center, draped in deep blue and white fabric with banners that read "Welcome to the New Batch – Unity in Discipline."
One side had an open area arranged for performances and speeches, while at the far end, two large food stalls stretched—veg on one side and non-veg on the other, the aroma of spices filling the air.
Freshers, seniors, and faculty members filled the ground, laughter and camera flashes blending with light music.
Roshni came down the stairs with Ishita.
Roshni wore a white-golden gown that shimmered under the lights. It had a delicate sleeveless upper with subtle golden embroidery and a soft flowing white net below that touched the floor. Her hair, tied half up and half down by Ishita, framed her glowing face perfectly. A simple golden pendant hung around her neck, completing her elegant yet calm look.
Ishita, on the other hand, looked stunning in her light blue and navy mixed gown. The upper part hugged her shoulders, made of satin with delicate bead work, and the bottom flowed freely, blending two shades of blue like ocean waves. Her soft curls fell naturally around her face, and though she wore minimal makeup, her grace made her stand out effortlessly.
They both looked breathtaking — one in a golden glow, another in calm blue hues — walking side by side through the decorated path.
Roshni looked around in awe. "Everything looks so beautiful tonight," she whispered, smiling.
Ishita nodded slightly, taking in the crowd, lights, and the faint hum of music from the stage.
As they walked toward the seating area, one senior boy approached them with a wide smile.
He was one of those same boys who, earlier in the day, had spoken nonsense about them when Vihaan overheard.
"Hello girls," he said in a falsely sweet tone. "You both look amazing tonight. Come with me, I'll show you where your seats are."
Something about his smile felt off, and both Ishita and Roshni sensed it instantly. They exchanged a quick glance — uneasy but polite — and decided to follow him quietly, not wanting to create a scene in the middle of the fest.
Just then, Vihaan entered the ground with his roommates Karan and Arjun. He was in a dark olive coat over a black shirt and matching pants, looking sharper than ever, though his casual swagger was the same.
Karan's eyes caught something. "Hey Vihaan... look," he muttered, nudging him. "That's the same guy from earlier — the one talking rubbish about Ishita and Roshni! He's taking them somewhere right now."
Vihaan's smile faded instantly. His jaw tightened, and his blood started to boil. Without saying a word, he began striding across the ground, his eyes locked on that senior like a hawk.
Roshni turned when she heard her name being called. "Hey, Roshni! Ishita! Where are you going?" Vihaan's voice was calm but firm.
He reached them and stood beside the girls, facing the senior directly.
"They'll come with me," he said flatly. "I already arranged their seats."
The senior laughed lightly, pretending innocence. "Oh Vihaan, come on. I was just helping them find a place. You can sit with them if you want — I mean, they're girls; they don't have to sit with a boy like you."
The tone was mocking, layered with fake politeness.
Vihaan stepped closer, his expression darkening. "I said it's okay. They'll sit with me. Don't make me repeat it."
Tension built between them — both refusing to back off. The lights around the stage flickered as a hush seemed to fall nearby.
At that moment, Sameer , who had just walked in wearing a perfectly fitted black three-piece suit the Academy Director had sent for him, noticed the situation from a distance.
He had been admiring the decorations, the lights, the crowd — but then his gaze caught Vihaan's stiff posture and Ishita's uneasy expression. Something didn't feel right.
Sameer's POV:
I was scanning the arrangements when my attention went to that corner — Vihaan arguing again. That boy can never stay still. But this time... something about his face looked different. It wasn't his usual joking tone — it was pure anger.
He started walking toward them, hands in his pockets, his sharp gaze observing quietly.
The senior boy noticed Sameer approaching and instantly straightened up, the arrogance on his face fading into nervousness. "Sir," he said quickly, "nothing serious, we were just talking."
Sameer's eyes flicked from the boy to Vihaan, then to the girls.
Vihaan's voice came low and cold: "Nothing happened, sir."
But his eyes — they told a different story.
Sameer could see the storm hiding behind them. Still, he said nothing further. "Alright," he replied calmly, though his tone carried weight. "Carry on."
Vihaan turned to Roshni and Ishita. "Come on. Sit with me." His voice softened for them, and without another word, he led them away from the crowd.
Sameer stood there for a few seconds, his gaze following them. Something about Vihaan's tone and the way the senior had gone silent didn't sit right with him.
He looked at the boy again and asked quietly, "What really happened?"
The boy swallowed. "Sir, it's nothing. Just... a small fight before. Maybe he's still angry about that."
Sameer nodded slightly, but his thoughts ran deeper. In these two weeks, I've seen Vihaan break rules and laugh through trouble. But today wasn't that. His anger was silent — controlled. That means something more happened.
He turned away, eyes narrowing slightly. I'll ask him later.
The lights dimmed once again as the Cultural Fest reached its most awaited moment — the fun performances. The air inside the open auditorium was vibrant, filled with claps, laughter, and the faint rhythm of dhol beats echoing through the night.
The fest had begun with a dazzling Punjabi Bhangra performance by the senior batch — colorful turbans, bright dupattas, and the sound of "Balle balle!" made the ground come alive. The energy was infectious. Even the Director, sitting in the front row, had a small smile on his face.
After that, several dance and music performances followed — from solo songs to group dances, each earning loud applause.
Now, the host, a cheerful senior girl holding a mic, came to the center of the stage.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" she said with a big grin. "Now comes the most entertaining part of the evening — the Lukar Natak segment!"
A wave of murmurs and excitement spread through the crowd.
She continued, "So here's the rule — we have two bowls of chits. One bowl has names, and another has the topics. We'll first pick eight names, and whoever's name comes out has to come on stage and perform a short Lukar Natak based on a random topic. You'll get only ten minutes to prepare. Simple, right?"
Everyone shouted and clapped in agreement.
"Perfect!" the host laughed. "Let's start with the names!"
She dipped her hand into the first bowl, shuffling the folded chits dramatically.
"First name..." she paused for effect, "Arjun!"
The crowd cheered as Arjun stood up with his usual confident smile.
"Second... hmm... Rajat!"
A random senior boy whistled and raised his hand.
"Third... Vihaan Khurana!"
Loud whistles erupted. Vihaan grinned and stood up proudly, doing a small salute to the crowd.
"Fourth... Naina!" — a fresher girl.
"Fifth... Roshni Mishra!"
Everyone clapped; Roshni stood up, surprised, her eyes widening.
"Sixth... Ishita Rao!"
A mix of cheers and teasing laughter spread across the students. Ishita looked shocked but composed herself quickly, muttering under her breath, "Ye kya ho raha hai bhagwan..."
"Seventh... Karan Mehta!"
And then the host smiled mischievously. "And now... the last name. The eighth and final one. And I promise, this one will shock you all!"
The crowd leaned forward curiously.
The host held up the chit and read the name aloud, then paused, laughing. "Oh my god! You guys won't believe this one!"
"Any guesses?" she teased. "This person and fun have a very strange relationship — more like fire and ice!"
The audience started shouting random names. "Director sir!" "Some teacher!" "Vihaan's crush!"
And then the host raised the chit high and declared — Our "Trainer Sameer Pandey!" Sir.....
The entire auditorium burst into laughter and cheers. Students started whistling and shouting his name. "Sirrr! Sirrr!" "Fun time, sir!" "Come on, sir, lukar natak time!"
Sameer, sitting in the front row beside the Director and Chief Guest, froze for a second. His expression was priceless — a perfect mix of disbelief and awkward calm.
"Wait—what?!" he said under his breath, turning toward the Director. "Sir, this must be a mistake. I'm a trainer; this is for students."
The Director laughed heartily. "Relax, Sameer! I told them to include everyone's name this year — faculty, staff, trainers, everyone! It's just for fun. You should go — the cadets will enjoy it even more seeing you participate."
Sameer sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Sir, I don't think—"
The Director interrupted gently, "Come on, Officer Pandey. You're young, full of energy. For one evening, don't be their trainer — be one of them. And who knows, your presence might inspire them even more."
Sameer gave a long exhale, then stood up reluctantly. "As you wish, sir."
The crowd erupted into another round of cheers as he started walking toward the stage, straightening his suit jacket.
He looked effortlessly elegant in his black three-piece suit — crisp white shirt underneath, perfectly knotted tie, and polished shoes that gleamed under the stage light. His sharp jawline and serious demeanor made half the crowd whisper, "Why does our trainer look like he walked out of a movie?"
Meanwhile, seated nearby was Arpita, wearing a soft peach-colored gown that flowed gracefully to her ankles. The gown had delicate embroidery along the neckline, subtle shimmer on the sleeves, and an elegant fall that suited her calm personality perfectly. Her long hair was tied into a low bun with loose strands framing her face. She looked stunning — graceful yet composed, the perfect reflection of her inner strength.
Beside her, Dr. Sidharth sat in his seat, dressed in a deep navy-blue three-piece suit with a maroon tie and a matching pocket square. The sharp tailoring and his upright posture gave him the air of an officer even outside uniform. His stubble caught the light, and though his expression was neutral, his eyes quietly observed everything — especially Sameer's reaction.
When Sameer's name was announced, Sidharth leaned slightly toward Arpita and whispered with a faint smirk, "Looks like tonight's going to be interesting."
Arpita bit back a laugh. "I can't imagine Sameer sir doing a fun play."
Back near the stage, Roshni's mouth fell open. "Oh my god! Sameer sir?!"
Vihaan, on the other hand, grinned wickedly. "Ab maza aayega! Sir bhi natak karega? Bas yehi toh chahiye tha!"
Roshni tried not to laugh. "Vihaan, don't start your madness."
But Vihaan leaned toward her with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Arre Roshni, revenge time has come! Aaj humara Sameer sir thoda comedy seekhega!"
Roshni giggled, catching his energy. "Tu pagal hai..."
"Pagal nahi," he said, smirking, "creative revenge plan hai!"
And before Ishita could even process what was happening, the two of them — Vihaan and Roshni — ran straight toward the stage where Sameer was already standing, shaking his head in disbelief.
Ishita sighed, muttering to herself, "Yeh dono khurapat ke live example hain... Bhagwan bachaye Sameer sir ko."
She followed them, half amused and half worried, knowing very well — when Vihaan and Roshni joined hands in mischief — chaos was guaranteed.
The backstage area buzzed with excitement. The eight chosen performers — Sameer, Vihaan, Roshni, Ishita, Arjun, Karan, Rajat, and Naina — quickly changed into kurta–pajamas, each adding a bright dupatta around their necks. The colors popped under the evening lights — reds, yellows, blues — making them look like a proper nukkad natak group.
As they gathered near the stage corner, Sameer , now without his blazer but still neat in his white kurta and navy dupatta, took charge. His usual stern expression was replaced by a calm, serious focus — like a team leader before battle.
"Alright everyone, listen carefully," Sameer said, folding his arms. "Our topic is Azaadi from Laziness. That means we have to show how laziness ruins discipline, health, and even dreams. We'll make it fun — but meaningful."
He pointed to each one as he assigned roles.
"Vihaan, you and Roshni — you'll handle the comic parts. You're the energy of the play. Arjun, Karan, Naina — you'll keep it on topic, help us move from scene to scene. Ishita, Rajat, and I will handle the message part. We'll close it strong."
Everyone nodded quickly, impressed by his calm leadership.
Sameer continued, "Don't overlap lines. Just say your line after the person before you finishes. Stay sharp, stay funny, and stay inside the topic."
Vihaan raised an eyebrow. "Sir, you sound like a professional director."
Sameer gave him a small, unexpected smile. "I've done this before in my training days. And I didn't lose."
Everyone laughed. Even Roshni. But then she fell silent again — because for the first time, she was seeing Sameer not as a trainer, but as someone... human. Relaxed. Smart. Funny, even. The faint smile on his face did something strange to her heartbeat.
Ishita noticed the way Roshni was staring and smirked, elbowing her lightly.
"Ho gaya?" she whispered teasingly. "Ab bas aankhon se rehearsal shuru kar de?"
Roshni blushed hard. "Shut up!"
Before she could say more, the host announced,
"Time's up! Team 'Azaadi from Laziness' — please come on stage!"
The crowd cheered loudly as the eight of them took positions in the center.
The dhol beat began — dhak dhak dhak! — echoing across the academy ground.
Arjun jumped into the center, waving his arms like a dramatic news anchor.
Arjun (shouting):
"Suno suno suno! Mere pyare desh ke logon! Yeh kahani hai un logon ki... jinka alarm bajta hai, par uthta unke sapne bhi nahi!"
The crowd roared immediately.
Karan entered the "stage," dragging a blanket and hugging a pillow.
He yawned so loudly that even the microphone squeaked.
Karan:
"Arre bhai, kya zarurat hai subah uthne ki? Sapno mein bhi toh IAS ban sakte hain!"
The audience burst into laughter — a few trainees even shouted, "Bilkul sahi kaha bhai!"
Then came Vihaan, in slow motion, slippers half hanging from his feet.
He carried a toothbrush like a dumbbell.
Vihaan:
"Arre Karan bhai... main toh kal morning walk pe gaya tha..."
Karan (blinking): "Accha? Kab?"
Vihaan (proudly): "Kal... sapne mein!"
He flexed his imaginary muscles.
"Dekho bhai, dream body!"
Roshni entered, tying her dupatta like a "maa ki pallu," holding a rolling pin (belan) like a sword.
Roshni (shouting):
"Abe nalayak! Uth jaa! Din ke 11 baj gaye! IAS banega ya mattress salesman?"
Karan (still yawning):
"Maa... India ne toh azaadi le li... mujhe bhi lene de thoda sa aaraam ki azaadi!"
The whole crowd went "Ooooo!" and clapped, laughing hysterically.
Roshni glared and picked up her slipper from backstage dramatically.
Roshni: "Iski toh main—"
Vihaan dived in front of her like a soldier, making slow-motion sound effects — "Taaaa taaa taaa!"
Vihaan (acting heroic):
"Maa! Non-violence please! Gandhi ji ke desh mein aise maarte nahi!"
He held his slipper like a peace flag.
The audience was crying with laughter — even Sameer had to look away, biting his lip to hide a smile.
Just then, Naina and Arjun came running in with paper "mics," pretending to be TV reporters.
Naina (serious tone):
"Breaking news! Desh ke yuvaon ne naya rashtrageet banaya hai!"
Arjun (joining in):
"'Soya Hindustan, Badha Hindustan!' — presented by Mattress & Sons Company!"
The crowd screamed with laughter — whistles, claps, even the Director had tears in his eyes from laughing.
Ishita and Rajat stepped forward next, acting as "motivational speakers." Both wore dark sunglasses and spoke in dramatic slow motion.
Ishita: "Laziness is not just sleeping..."
Rajat: "It's also... scrolling Instagram for 'motivation quotes'... for 3 hours straight!"
The crowd howled.
Ishita (nodding): "Aur phir kehte hain... 'kal se start karenge!'"
Rajat (pretending to think deeply): "Par kal... network busy milta hai."
Laughter rolled through the whole ground.
Then the background beat softened — turning serious yet still playful.
Sameer stepped forward — tall, composed, commanding.
Even with his calm face, the crowd instantly went quiet.
Sameer (firm but calm):
"Aaj hum sab aalsi ho gaye hain. Phone ke notification pe daudte hain... par apne goals ke peeche nahi."
He looked around slowly. The crowd listened — but behind him, Vihaan and Roshni were pretending to sleep again, snoring loudly.
Sameer turned, pointed at them.
"Dekha? Har ek ke andar ek Vihaan aur ek Roshni hai... jo kehte hain — 'kal se karenge!'"
Both of them "woke up" at once like cartoon characters.
Vihaan (jumping):
"Arre sir! Live show mein humein example bana diye!"
The crowd erupted again — even Sameer smiled mid-dialogue.
Sameer (smirking):
"Good. At least now you're awake."
Roshni stood, brushing imaginary dust off her saree.
Roshni (mock annoyed): "Sir, agar aapko motivational speaker banna tha na, toh pehle batate — main pillow le aati!"
The laughter that followed was unstoppable.
Even the Director, wiping his eyes, muttered, "Yeh batch toh comedy show ban gaya!"
Finally, all of them stood in a line, straight and proud.
The music rose again — rhythmic, energetic.
Sameer (final line, with power):
"Azaadi sirf desh ke liye nahi hoti... khud se bhi hoti hai. Azaadi apni aalsi soch se."
Vihaan (jumping, shouting):
"Socho mat... kar dikhayo!"
Everyone joined in together —
"Azaadi from Laziness!"
The audience went wild — clapping, cheering, some even shouting, "Once more!"
As the lights dimmed and everyone bowed, Sameer looked at his team — proud, amused, and genuinely happy.
And for the first time, Roshni saw him smiling — not the "sir" smile... but a real, heartwarming one.
Her heart skipped a beat.
He looks different when he smiles.
And somewhere in the audience, Arpita whispered softly to herself, watching him from her seat —
"Seems like even Mr. Pandey needed a little azaadi from seriousness."
As the final echo of applause faded into the night air, the group stepped down from the stage — still flushed with laughter and excitement. Their nukkad natak had been a surprise hit, filling the entire courtyard of the Academy with cheer.
The Director, smiling broadly, walked toward them with slow, approving claps. His eyes were bright with pride.
"That... was one of the best performances I've seen in years," he said warmly. "You all managed to mix humor with a message — exactly what this academy stands for. Well done, all of you."
The team grinned from ear to ear, exchanging proud glances. Sameer stood a step behind, his expression returning to calm professionalism — though his eyes betrayed a small glint of satisfaction.
Arpita, who had been watching from the front row in her elegant peach-colored gown, approached him with a teasing smile. The soft fabric shimmered under the yellow stage lights as she folded her arms.
"Well, Officer Sameer Pandey," she said lightly, "in my entire life, I've never seen this side of you. I almost didn't recognize you out there."
Sameer raised a brow. "Which side?"
"The one that smiles," she replied quickly. "It's rare... but we all enjoyed it."
Sameer shook his head faintly, hiding a small smile. "That was just part of the performance."
"Hmm." Arpita chuckled. "Let's hope the performance doesn't end too soon then."
Before he could respond, Sidharth came up behind him, laughing heartily. He was still in his sharp three-piece suit — charcoal grey with a crisp white shirt — but his formal look didn't match his playful grin. He clapped Sameer on the shoulder.
"Sameer, my friend! That was something new — a funny version of you. Didn't know this model came with humor software!"
Sameer smirked faintly. "You all are enjoying this too much."
Sidharth pulled him into a friendly hug. "Because we rarely get to see you enjoying yourself. You did good, man."
Before Sameer could reply, a loud voice interrupted from behind.
"Sirrr!" Vihaan called out, jogging over with Roshni, Ishita, and the rest of the group. They were still buzzing with excitement. "Sir, humein toh bada maza aaya! Aap hamesha aise hi kyu nahi rehte — cool and funny!"
Sameer turned toward him, folding his arms — his strict tone returning.
"Then I also expect you to always stay serious and disciplined."
Vihaan blinked dramatically. "Arre nahi sir, woh toh mushkil hai."
Sameer gave a short, calm nod. "Then this"—he gestured around—"won't happen again either."
The students all froze, eyes widening.
And then, the Director burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! Well said, Sameer! He knows how to win both ways."
The entire group laughed along, easing the tension. Vihaan scratched his head with a sheepish grin. "Thik hai sir, aaj ke liye hi sahi."
The Director looked at everyone with a smile of genuine affection.
"Alright, everyone — that's enough fun for now. Go back, get ready for the Night Function. It's your evening — enjoy it to the fullest!"
The crowd dispersed slowly — colorful lights flashing over their faces, the echo of laughter and music still drifting through the cool mountain air.
Sameer stood for a moment, watching his trainees walk off together — laughing, teasing, full of life. Arpita, passing by him, murmured softly,
"Feels good, doesn't it? Seeing them like this."
Sameer just nodded once, quietly. "Yes... it does."
And for the first time that night, the strict trainer's smile lingered — small, real, and warm.
Sameer Pandey.
His laughter, rare and real, still echoed in her mind. The strict, emotionless trainer had, for the first time, looked human. The way his eyes softened when their act ended, the small smile that tugged at his lips — it all played in a loop inside her head.
Roshni smiled unconsciously, her cheeks heating up.
"Maybe... there's a person behind that uniform," she whispered to herself, "a man who hides his pain behind rules."
She laughed softly, imagining him trying to be serious again the next morning.
"I think... I like this side of him," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Just then, Ishita entered the room,
"Hey Roshni, I'm thinking of wearing this peach one tonight," she said, then paused as she noticed her friend — smiling, lost in thought, and blushing like never before.
Ishita raised an eyebrow.
"Arre madam, kya hua? Aise paglo ki tarah smile kar rahi hai — koi sapna chal raha hai kya?"
Roshni instantly turned red, fumbling with her pallu. "Kuch nahi... bas aise hi," she muttered, trying to hide her face.
Ishita smirked, walking closer with mischief sparkling in her eyes.
"Acha? Stage pe bhi toh tu kuch zyada hi khoyi hui thi... aur sirf stage pe nahi, kisi ke chehre pe bhi!"
Roshni widened her eyes. "Kya bol rahi hai tu, pagal hai kya? Main Sameer sir ko kyun ghuru gii?"
Ishita folded her arms, pretending to think. "Hmm... maine kisi ka naam nahi liya tha. Tu khud bata rahi hai kaun hai."
Roshni's mouth fell open. "Ishitaaa!" she groaned, throwing a cushion at her. "Tu bhi na, ab bilkul Vihaan jaisi hoti ja rahi hai — taang khinchne wali!"
Ishita burst into laughter, almost dropping her saree. "Okay okay, nahi chhedti! But sach bata na, thoda toh pasand karti hai na?"
Roshni bit her lip, eyes darting away. "Mujhe nahi pata... bas... aaj jab wo hasa na, dil se hasa... laga jaise pehli baar dekha hoon usse."
Ishita's teasing smile softened. She walked to Roshni and said warmly, "Toh fir lagta hai crush alert hai Miss Roshni."
Roshni groaned. "Tu bhi na! Chal, zyada lecture mat de, apna makeup le aa. Aaj tu mera makeup karegi, main saree pehn leti hoon."
Ishita grinned. "ok."
Within minutes, their room was filled with laughter, perfume, and scattered jewelry. Ishita carefully applied a soft shimmer on Roshni's cheeks, then added a tint of pink lipstick. Roshni looked in the mirror — her eyes wide, her smile shy. She looked... beautiful.
Ishita whistled. "Bas, ab Sameer sir ka haal toh kharab hone wala hai."
Roshni's jaw dropped. "Kya bol rahi hai tu! Unhe notice karne ka time kaha hota hai mujhe dekhne ka toh sawaal hi nahi!"
Ishita laughed, tucking in her blue saree. "Chal chor, neeche chal, party ka time ho gaya hai warna Vihaan fir comment maarega 'late entry queens'."
Roshni shook her head with a helpless smile. "Tu bhi na Ishita..."
And together, they walked out — one blushing, one grinning — ready for a night that neither of them would forget.
Arpita pov :
Standing in front of the mirror, Arpita carefully draped her maroon saree, letting the soft fabric fall perfectly around her. As she adjusted her bangles on one wrist, her reflection smiled faintly back at her.
"I hope Sameer will like it," she thought, a shy blush coloring her cheeks. Memories drifted back to their farewell day—both of them unknowingly wearing the same color. "Maybe even today... fate will play the same trick again."
She touched her earrings gently, her eyes softening.
"My life has always been so colorless," she whispered to herself. "But somehow, he brought a hint of color into it. Except for him, I don't really have anyone. I thought after the farewell, I'd never see him again. I didn't even have the courage to ask for his number. He was always so silent, so distant..."
Her gaze lingered on her reflection. There was something fragile, yet strong, in the way she looked tonight.
"But after seeing his real side today—his smile, his warmth—I realized he's not just that cold, disciplined officer everyone sees. There's a soft heart hidden behind that uniform. He just needs someone who understands him... someone who can match his silence and his strength."
She drew in a slow breath, a small, determined smile touching her lips.
"And if that person is me," she murmured, "then I won't let my loneliness ever touch him. He deserves happiness... even if it's not with me, I'll make sure he finds it."
With that quiet promise glowing in her heart, Arpita picked up her small clutch, gave herself one last look in the mirror, and stepped out of the room — graceful, confident, and carrying a warmth she hadn't felt in years.
Arpita descended the staircase slowly, her maroon saree glimmering softly under the warm lights. Each step she took carried elegance — her bangles chimed lightly as she adjusted her pallu and checked her watch. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts about the evening and the strange warmth she'd been feeling lately.
At the same time, on the other side of the hall, Vihaan was walking backward — his back facing Arpita — while talking animatedly to Arjun and Karan. He was dressed in a maroon kurta, sleeves rolled up, his mischievous grin flashing every few seconds as he cracked jokes.
"Bhai, agar main hosting karta na, sabse zyada claps mujhe milte!" Vihaan boasted, earning laughter from both of them.
He was too busy entertaining his friends to notice that someone was coming straight toward him.
Arpita, too, was distracted — her eyes lowered as she fixed her saree pleats.
And then— thud!
They collided.
Arpita gasped as her heel slipped against the floor, her saree tangling slightly. She was about to fall when a firm hand caught her wrist — another slid instinctively around her waist, steadying her.
For a moment, everything froze.
Her heartbeat raced as she opened her eyes, expecting pain — but instead, she found herself looking up at Vihaan. His usual playful expression had vanished, replaced by a look of surprise and something else... admiration.
For the first time, Vihaan was speechless. The woman he had only seen in uniform now stood before him looking breathtaking, her saree shimmering like wine under light.
Arpita, too, was caught off guard — her breath hitching as she realized how close they were.
Arjun's teasing voice broke the spell.
"Vihaan! Agar tum dono ka scene khatam ho gaya ho, toh party shuru karein?"
Both blinked, stepping back quickly. Arpita straightened her saree, avoiding eye contact, while Vihaan rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"Ma'am, are you okay? Chot toh nahi lagi?" Vihaan asked softly, trying to sound formal.
Arpita shook her head, a polite smile forming. "No, Commando Vihaan, I'm fine. And thank you... for catching me."
He smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't have been walking backward while talking."
"It's alright," she replied calmly — but when she glanced at him, she froze again.
Maroon. His kurta was the exact same shade as her saree.
Vihaan noticed too. A small grin appeared on his lips. "Looks like our outfits decided to match today, ma'am."
Arpita's cheeks warmed slightly. She nodded, maintaining her composure. "Enjoy the evening, everyone," she said briskly and turned to leave.
As she walked away, Arjun and Karan burst into laughter.
"Bhai, matching outfit, catching moment — kya baat hai Vihaan!" Arjun teased, elbowing him.
Karan joined in, "Ab samajh aaya tujhe backward walk karne ka reason kya tha!"
Vihaan rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile. "Bas kar yaar... warna next baar tum dono ko hi gira dunga."
But as he turned to glance at Arpita walking away, that grin refused to fade.
..........................................................................................................................................................
Roshni and Ishita were walking down the stairs together, their sarees flowing elegantly as soft music played in the distance. The decoration below glowed with fairy lights, candles, and floral arches — a perfect festive setting.
Roshni adjusted her peach saree and whispered, "Ishi, tu chal, ek minute mai aati hoon... mera saree pin khul gaya hai."
Ishita paused. "Shall I come and help you?"
Roshni smiled. "No, I'll manage. You go, I'll be there in a minute."
Ishita nodded and continued downstairs.
The moment she stepped into the hall, her eyes widened. The entire ground floor was breathtakingly decorated — strings of golden lights hanging from the ceiling, tables lined with colorful mocktails, and a small fountain glittering under spotlights. Everything looked magical.
She smiled like a child, turning slowly, admiring every detail. But just as she turned— bump!
The glass of juice slipped from someone's hand and splashed across both of them.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't see— I—" Ishita began, flustered.
When she looked up, her words froze.
It was Dr. Sidharth.
He stood there in a black kurta, sleeves rolled to his forearms, droplets of juice glistening against the dark fabric. He wasn't angry. In fact, he wasn't even moving. He was... staring at her.
Not in irritation — but in quiet admiration.
For a moment, Ishita forgot how to breathe. His gaze was intense yet soft, as if he was seeing her for the first time. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear nervously and said, "Dr. Sidharth... are you okay?"
Her voice broke his trance. He blinked, slightly embarrassed. "Oh— yeah. Did you say something?"
She smiled shyly. "Actually, your kurta got spoiled because of me. I'm really sorry, sir."
He looked down and realized the stain. "Oh, damn... yeah."
"I'll clean it, please come," she insisted quickly, her voice filled with guilt.
Sidharth hesitated but followed as she led him near the washroom area. The nearest basin happened to be beside the ladies' washroom.
"Uh— Ms. Rao, are you sure—"
"It's fine, sir. Just here," she said innocently, turning on the tap.
She handed him a tissue, but when she saw him struggling to clean the mark, she stepped closer. "Here, let me..."
Her fingers brushed against his wrist as she helped wipe the stain. The silence between them deepened.
"I'm really sorry again, sir," she said softly.
Before she could say more, Sidharth raised his hand — his finger gently pressed against her lips.
"Ms. Rao," he said in a low, calm voice, "how many times will you say sorry tonight?"
Ishita froze, her breath catching. His tone wasn't harsh — it was gentle, almost playful.
After a few seconds, he lowered his hand and smiled faintly. "By the way, I've noticed something. You seem... different tonight. Happier. More open."
Ishita smiled, still slightly flustered. "Maybe I just decided to stop hiding behind walls, sir. To open up a little."
Sidharth nodded approvingly. "So, Ms. Rao is changing."
"Not Ms. Rao, sir," she said softly, meeting his eyes. "Just Ishita. I want people to know me by my name — not by any surname or title."
Something in her words made him pause — he saw strength behind that smile. He couldn't help but be impressed.
"It's clean now, sir," she said, finishing the stain. She gently brushed off a few droplets of water from his kurta with her pallu.
For a moment, they were standing very close — close enough to hear each other's heartbeat.
And just then — click!
A camera flashed silently from behind a pillar — someone had captured their picture from an angle that made it look far more intimate than it really was. Neither of them noticed.
Ishita stepped back quickly. "Okay, sir. Let's go, before someone comes and misunderstands us."
Sidharth chuckled softly and nodded. "Good idea."
They walked out together — unaware that the photo taken just now was going to create whispers they never intended.
Roshni adjusted the end of her peach saree again and sighed in frustration.
"Uff... this pallu is not staying at all! Who told me to wear a saree tonight?" she muttered under her breath.
She looked toward the long staircase leading up to the hostel rooms and made a face.
"No chance I'm climbing all those stairs again," she decided.
Just then, she spotted one of the cleaning staff — a kind, middle-aged woman everyone affectionately called Aunty Sunita.
"Aunty, suniye!" Roshni called.
The woman turned. "Haan, beta?"
"Aunty, yeh saree khul rahi hai, mujhe thoda theek karna hai. Koi room hai kya? Main zyada time nahi loongi."
Sunita smiled warmly. "Haan, beta, woh records room hai na, sab neeche party mein hain, wahan jaa sakti ho. Bas gate lock mat karna, uska latch atak jaata hai. Band ho gaya to bahar se hi khulega."
Roshni nodded gratefully. "Thik hai, Aunty. Thank you."
"Ja beta, main yahin hoon," Aunty assured.
Roshni slipped inside the dimly lit records room, carefully pulling her pallu over her shoulder again.
Aunty Sunita waited outside for a few moments — but then another staff member came rushing. "Aunty, ek minute, zaroori kaam hai!"
"Arre, theek hai, do minute mein aayi!" Sunita said and walked away, not realizing she'd left Roshni alone near a door that could jam shut.
Inside the Room
Roshni struggled with her saree, muttering to herself. "God, yeh pallu toh ban hi nahi raha... why did I wear this? Kurti hi theek thi."
She opened the pleats again and started re-wrapping it around her waist, the pallu draped loosely over her arm. The light from the corridor spilled in through the half-open door.
Just then, footsteps echoed — firm, authoritative ones.
Sameer Pandey was walking briskly toward the party area when he noticed the records room door open. His brows furrowed.
"Everyone's downstairs... then who's here?"
He stepped inside, his tone sharp and professional. "Who's there?"
The sudden voice startled Roshni. She gasped and turned sharply — the loose end of her saree fell, and the fabric slipped halfway down from her shoulder.
Sameer froze.
For a heartbeat, both just stared — Roshni in shock, Sameer in disbelief.
And then realization hit him. He immediately turned around, eyes squeezed shut.
"I— I'm sorry, Ms. Mishra! I didn't know someone was you who is inside!"
Roshni grabbed her saree hurriedly, her cheeks turning crimson.
"Sir! Aap bina knock kiye kaise aa gaye!" she said, voice trembling more from embarrassment than anger.
Sameer kept facing the wall, one hand half-raised in apology. "I thought... someone unauthorized had entered. The door was open, and— I'm extremely sorry."
Roshni clutched her pallu tightly and managed to cover herself. "It's fine, sir," she murmured, still flustered.
Sameer took a deep breath, ready to step out and give her privacy — when click!
The door swung shut behind him.
He turned. Tried the handle. It didn't move.
"Oh no..." he muttered.
Roshni blinked. "What happened?"
Sameer sighed. "The door's jammed. It's not opening."
Sameer's words made Roshni freeze.
"What?" she whispered, eyes widening.
He turned the handle again. It didn't move.
Sameer muttered, half to himself, half in disbelief, "I don't understand... it was open a minute ago."
Roshni blinked in shock. "Sir... how can it lock? Aunty toh boli thi... agar door band hua toh bahar se hi khulega!"
Sameer sighed, rubbing his temple. "Great. Just great."
Roshni quickly gathered her pallu again, fingers trembling as she tried to fix her pleats. She wasn't panicking because they were trapped — she was panicking because she was half-draped in front of her trainer.
Sameer turned sharply to face the wall, his voice calm but firm.
"Are you done, Ms. Mishra? Can I turn around and call someone? The telephone's on your side, and I don't have my phone."
"Five minutes more, sir," she blurted, still wrestling with the silk folds.
Five minutes turned into ten seconds of chaos — pleats collapsing, pallu slipping again, her muttered frustration echoing in the quiet room.
Sameer pressed his lips together, trying not to smile.
"Ms. Mishra, are you done or not?"
Roshni huffed. "Sir, aap mujhe disturb kar rahe hain! Main focus nahi kar paa rahi!"
He chuckled softly this time. "Focus, huh?"
She frowned, cheeks flushed. "Yes, sir. Focus."
"Can I help you, then?" he asked after a pause.
Her head snapped up. "Aap? Kaise help karenge?"
"By turning around," he said simply.
"Arey, aap wapas mat mudhiye! Kyu mudh rahe hain?" she protested, clutching the half-wrapped saree protectively.
"Ms. Mishra," he said with patient authority, "agar main udhar muh karke khada rahoon, toh help kaise kar paunga? I promise — I won't open my eyes."
He turned slowly, eyes tightly shut, one hand raised slightly as if to prove his honesty. He could sense where she stood — her soft breathing, the faint rustle of silk, the nervous energy in the air.
Step by step, he came closer.
Roshni's heartbeat quickened. He was so close she could smell the faint trace of sandalwood in his cologne — clean, crisp, distinctly him.
Sameer extended a careful hand until his fingers brushed against the fabric.
"These are your pleats, right?"
"Hm..." was all she managed, lost in the nearness of him.
He gathered the folds neatly and handed them to her. "Tuck them in," he murmured, his tone still professional — but softer now.
Roshni obeyed silently, her eyes fixed on his calm face.
When he sensed she was done, he reached for the loose pallu — eyes still closed — and began arranging it over her shoulder. His fingers brushed her neck by accident.
A sharp breath escaped her lips. Sameer froze.
The warmth of her skin lingered against his fingertips; his heartbeat stumbled, then raced.
For a moment, time simply... stopped.
Neither spoke. Neither moved.
Finally, he whispered, "Pin?"
Roshni, dazed, handed it over wordlessly.
Sameer opened his eyes slowly — and realized how close they were. Inches apart. Her gaze met his — wide, uncertain, but shimmering with something unspoken.
He carefully pinned the pallu in place, but his hand lingered a heartbeat longer than it should have. His eyes flicked to her lips before he caught himself.
Roshni's eyes fluttered shut, breath shallow. The air between them was charged — with silence, scent, and everything neither dared say.
And then — click!
The door creaked open.
Both jerked apart instantly as Sunita Aunty appeared, slightly breathless.
"Arre beta! Mujhe yaad hi nahi raha ke tum andar ho! Main toh thodi der ke liye gayi thi!"
Roshni stepped back, cheeks burning. "Koi baat nahi, Aunty. Aap wapas aa gayi, achha hua."
Sunita Aunty blinked in surprise. "Arre, Sameer sir! Aap yahan kaise?"
Sameer cleared his throat, straightening. "Woh... mujhe laga koi records room mein unauthorized hai. Check karne aaya tha — par hum dono andar fas gaye."
Aunty chuckled. "Haan haan, yeh door hi aisa hai. Chal, chalo neeche — sab wait kar rahe honge."
Roshni adjusted her saree one last time, avoiding his gaze as they stepped out together — both pretending nothing had happened.
But deep inside, both knew — something had changed.
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