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The school bell rang, signaling the last period of the day. The sound brought a wave of excitement over Sia as she quickly stuffed her books into her bag. It was art class—her favorite! She could finally paint without hearing the constant nagging of her father, who often scolded her at home for "wasting time" on what he called "useless things."

With a sigh of relief and a bright smile, Sia skipped toward the art room, her happiness almost infectious. Nisha, walking beside her, raised an eyebrow. "What's with the face, Sia? You look like you just won the lottery!"

Sia laughed, brushing it off, but Nisha wasn’t one to back down. “Wait a second! Don’t tell me... Did your crush finally propose? Oh my God, Sia, spill the tea!” Nisha exclaimed, nudging Sia’s shoulder dramatically as if they were starring in a soap opera.

Sia rolled her eyes, trying to stifle her laughter. "No, Nisha! It's nothing like that. I just love painting, that’s all. It makes me happy, you know?"

Nisha stopped in her tracks and gasped theatrically. "Happy? Sia, this isn’t a love story—this is a crime! How dare you be happy without a boy in the picture!" Sia burst out laughing.

--

The art room buzzed with scattered chatter as Sia and Nisha entered, slightly late as always. The two girls scanned the room, spotting their friends already settled. Sia’s gaze lingered on Aisha, who sat quietly near the window, her long, black hair partially covering her face. Something about her seemed different, almost unapproachable.

“Nisha,” Sia whispered, nudging her nisha, “what do you think about Aisha?” Her eyes stayed glued to Aisha.

Nisha, caught off guard, blinked. “Hmm? Oh, Aisha?” She shrugged, settling into one of the last seats in the room. “I don’t know, Sia. I mean, she’s kind of... mysterious. But honestly, I didn’t peg her to be so arrogant.”

Sia tilted her head, curiosity brewing. “Arrogant? You think so?” She plopped down beside Nisha, still watching Aisha, when the teacher entered, instantly silencing the class.

“Alright, everyone,” the teacher began, “today, we’ll focus on abstract art. I want you to express your emotions. Don’t overthink it; let the colors speak for you.”

....

The students got to work, brushes dipping into vibrant hues. Sia, a natural artist, poured her heart into her painting. Her strokes were fluid, her colors vivid, reflecting her cheerful spirit. Next to her, Nisha, who had the artistic talent of a three-year-old, was simply passing time. She dipped her brush randomly, making a chaotic mess on her canvas.

After a while, Nisha leaned back to admire her ‘masterpiece’ and burst into laughter. The sound was loud, uncontrollable, and infectious. “Oh my God, Sia, look at this!”

Sia glanced over, and her jaw dropped before she erupted in laughter. “What the hell is that supposed to be? A dead tree in a hurricane?”

The entire class turned to look at them, including the teacher, who frowned. “Girls, if you’re done laughing, perhaps you can focus on your work?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” they said in unison, stifling their giggles. But as soon as the teacher turned back, Nisha whispered, “You know, this might actually be modern art. I should sell it.”

Sia rolled her eyes but smiled. The moment passed, and everyone returned to their work.

A few minutes later, as the teacher stepped out of the class for some work, Sia’s curiosity got the better of her. She leaned over, peeking at Aisha’s canvas. Her eyes widened in awe. Aisha’s painting was breathtaking—a swirling blend of deep blues and fiery reds, evoking a sense of mystery and passion.

“Wow,” Sia muttered. But before she could say anything, the door opened, and the so-called ‘mean girls’ of the class strutted in. Riya, their leader and the school director’s daughter, walked straight toward Aisha with her usual air of entitlement.

“Move,” Riya demanded, her voice dripping with attitude. “This is my seat.”

Aisha didn’t even glance up, her brush continuing its graceful dance on the canvas. “I’m settled here. Find another seat,” she said calmly, her tone firm but uninterested.

Riya’s nostrils flared. “Do you even know who I am?” one of Riya’s friends chimed in, flipping her hair dramatically.

Aisha finally looked up, her dark eyes sharp and unyielding. “Yeah, I know. The girl who thinks she owns the world because her dad signs the paychecks. Now, if you don’t mind, you’re ruining my view.”

The class fell silent. Gasps echoed. Nisha nudged Sia, whispering, “Did she just say that? this girl.. She’s my hero.”

Riya’s face turned red with anger. Without thinking, she grabbed a bottle of black paint and poured it over Aisha’s canvas, destroying the masterpiece in an instant. The room froze. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what Aisha would do.

Aisha stood up slowly, her movements calm but deadly. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes were blazing. Without a word, she picked up a bottle of bright red paint and flung it at Riya, splattering her pristine white uniform. Gasps turned into muffled laughter.

But Aisha wasn’t done. She grabbed another bottle of blue paint and doused Riya’s hair. The colors dripped down her face as she stood there, stunned and humiliated.

Pointing a finger at Riya, Aisha said, her voice like ice, “Don’t you dare mess with me again. Understand? You better understand.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Aisha stormed out, leaving a paint-covered Riya fuming. The class erupted into whispers.

“Did you see that?” one student said.

“Riya’s not going to let this go,” another replied.

Sia and Nisha sat with their mouths hanging open. “That. Was. Epic,” Nisha whispered, breaking the silence between them.

“Riya’s dad is the director of school,” Sia said, worry creeping into her voice. “What if she gets Aisha expelled?”

“We have to help her,” Nisha said, her determination matching Sia’s.

“But how?” Sia asked. “Every teacher will side with Riya.”

Sia sighed "let’s figure out a plan first.”

Before Nisha could reply, Sia excused herself to the washroom. As she entered, she spotted Aisha aggressively scrubbing her hands at the sink. Tears glistened in her eyes, though she tried to hide them.

“Aisha,” Sia said softly, approaching her. “Are you okay?”

Aisha didn’t reply, her focus on washing away the paint that had splattered on her hands.

Sia gently grabbed her elbow. “You’re hurting yourself,” she said, noticing the red marks on Aisha’s palm because of continuous washing.

Aisha flinched, pulling her arm away. “I don’t need your pity,” she snapped, her voice breaking slightly.

“It’s not pity,” Sia said, her tone warm and genuine. “I just... I just want to help, okay? Let me help.”

But Aisha shook her head, her walls firmly in place. “I don’t need anyone’s help.” With that, she stormed out, leaving Sia standing there, her heart heavy.

...

Back in the classroom, Sia relayed the encounter to Nisha. “She’s hurting, Nisha. But she won’t let anyone in.”

Sia's concern for helping Aisha, "Do you got any idea how to help Aisha?" Sia asked, her voice laced with worry. Nisha grinned mischievously, replying, "Yes, and we don’t even need to work hard for it."

Sia’s curiosity deepened. "How?" she questioned.

Nisha's eyes twinkled with mischief as she quipped, "Gadhi, when your brother’s best friend is the head boy, why do we need to look elsewhere?"

Sia frowned skeptically. "And why do you think he’ll help us?"

Nisha shrugged confidently. "Because he’s the head boy. Helping everyone is his job, isn’t it?"

.....

On the other side basketball court was unusually quiet, save for the sound of nervous shuffling and low murmurs. Everyone's heads were bowed as though avoiding the wrath of a deity, but the reason for their fear stood in the center, his very presence suffocating the air—Rudra Malhotra.

His face was flushed a deep red, veins popping along his neck and temples as if his body itself was fighting to contain the firestorm inside him. His jaw was clenched tight, and his fists curled so hard that his knuckles had turned white. The loss of the championship game was one thing, but losing to him, Rahul Singhania—the one person Rudra couldn’t stand—was enough to push him over the edge.

His furious gaze swept over his team, each player instinctively lowering their head further, unwilling to meet those piercing eyes. Some audibly swallowed, their breath catching in their throats, while others looked like they were silently praying for mercy. No one dared speak. Finally, with an audible scoff, Rudra stormed off toward the changing room, his footsteps echoing like a countdown to doom.

The silence lingered like a heavy fog until Eklavya broke it with a whisper, laced with mock drama. "If he'd stayed one more minute, I swear, we'd all have suffocated to death. RIP us," he said, clutching his heart theatrically. A few teammates let out nervous chuckles, but Veer wasn’t having it. His sharp glare cut through the awkward moment like a knife.

"Can’t you keep your mouth shut for once?" Veer hissed, his voice low but firm. Eklavya raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Chill, man. A little humor never killed anyone. Rudra’s glare might, though."

Ignoring him, Veer turned to address the team. "Alright, everyone, head home. Be back an hour early tomorrow for practice. And no excuses!" His tone left no room for argument.

Just as Veer and Eklavya began walking toward the changing room, a familiar voice, out of breath and panicked, called out. "Bhaiya! Where’s Rudra?" Sia came running toward them, panting heavily.

Veer raised a brow. "I think he’s in the changing room," he replied, but before he could say more, a teammate passing by added with exaggerated flair, "Nope. He stormed off to the parking lot!"

Sia’s eyes widened further, and without a second’s hesitation, she turned on her heel and sprinted toward the parking lot.Veer sighed, shaking his head. "What happened to her now!?" he muttered.

Sia’s feet skidded to a halt as she spotted Rudra striding angrily toward the parking lot. His shoulders were tense, his hands fisted tightly at his sides. His sheer aura was so intimidating that for a moment, Sia considered turning back, but then her resolve kicked in. Taking a deep breath, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Rudra, stop!"

But Rudra didn’t so much as flinch. He kept walking, his strides long and purposeful. Frustrated, she raised her pitch, her voice echoing through the lot, "Rudraaaa, stopppppp, pleaseeeee!" Still, he acted like she didn’t exist.

Fuming, Sia muttered under her breath, "Why is he like this?! Goddddd, can you please stop him?!" Without waiting for divine intervention, she dashed forward, her sneakers squeaking against the ground as she caught up to him. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist and yanked, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

Rudra turned, his dark eyes meeting hers with an icy glare that could freeze the Sahara. Sia gulped but refused to back down. "Don’t you have ears?!" she demanded, her hands on her hips. "Can’t you hear me calling you?!"

Rudra raised a brow, his expression unimpressed. Without a word, he pulled his hand free and resumed walking toward his bike. His blatant dismissal made Sia’s jaw drop. "Why do you always ignore me?!" she shouted after him, her voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

Rudra, now standing beside his sleek black bike, turned his head slightly, his tone cold and detached. "Because I don’t have time to waste on strangers."

His words hit like a slap, and for a moment, Sia was too stunned to speak. Stranger? she thought indignantly. This guy has some nerve! But before she could lash out, she remembered why she had chased him down in the first place. Taking a deep breath, she tried to rein in her temper.

"Listen, I’m not here to fight. I need your help," she said, her voice softer but no less firm.

Rudra swung his leg over his bike and sat down, not sparing her another glance. "I don’t have time. Aur side hato, you’re blocking the exit," he said curtly as he reached for the ignition.

That’s when Sia’s eyes landed on the bike, recognition dawning on her. Her mouth fell open in realization. "Wait a second!" she exclaimed, pointing at the bike. "Now I remember! You’re the one who clashed with me on my first day of school!"

Rudra turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing. "Not me," he corrected coolly. "It was you who came in front of my bike."

Sia crossed her arms and huffed. "Details, details! The point is, it was your bike!" she retorted, her tone accusatory.

"Whatever," Rudra muttered, rolling his eyes. He twisted the key, and the bike roared to life. Just as he was about to leave, Sia stepped forward and said, "Listen, I’m serious! I need your help. You’re the head boy, and only you can fix this."

But Rudra wasn’t interested. Ignoring her, he revved the engine, but before he could move an inch, Sia did the unthinkable. She quickly climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and resting her head on his back.

"What the hell?!" Rudra exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief and irritation.

Sia grinned cheekily, her chin propped against his shoulder. "Now move! You already know my address. Drop me there, and I’ll explain everything on the way," she said in the most matter-of-fact tone, as if this was completely normal.

Rudra let out a frustrated groan, his grip tightening on the handlebars. "This girl is insane," he muttered under his breath.

"Sia Verma," she corrected sweetly, tilting her head to look at him.

"What?" Rudra snapped, clearly exasperated.

"My name. Don’t call me this girl next time," she said with a pout.

Rudra muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, but he gave in and started the bike. "Hold on, and don’t talk," he warned, his tone sharp.

But Sia was Sia. She spent the entire ride talking animatedly about Aisha and Riya’s fight, waving her hands (even while holding onto him), and occasionally scolding Rudra for not responding. He didn’t say much, but his clenched jaw and muttered grunts showed he was barely tolerating her.

When they finally reached her street, Sia abruptly shouted, "Stop, stop!" causing Rudra to hit the brakes sharply. She hopped off, beaming at him like they’d just shared the best adventure.

"Thank you for the ride!" she chirped, brushing off her skirt. Then her expression turned serious. "Will you help Aisha?" she asked, her eyes hopeful.

Rudra stared at her for a moment before replying in his signature cold tone, "I’ll see." And without another word, he sped off, leaving Sia standing there, hands on her hips and a small smile on her face. What a guy, she thought, shaking her head.

....

As Sia stepped into the house, she was hit by the warm aroma of something cooking. Curious and excited, she darted toward the kitchen, her hair bouncing behind her like a child on a sugar rush. She peeked over her brother Veer’s shoulder and exclaimed, "Bhaiya! What are you cooking? And where are Mumma and Papa?!"

Veer glanced at her briefly before flipping the noodles in the pan. "Mumma and Papa went to a friend’s wedding," he replied casually. "And I’m cooking… Maggi."

At the mention of Maggi, Sia’s eyes lit up like fairy lights during Diwali. "Aaj Maggi khaungi! Hippie! Aaj Maggi khaungi!" she squealed, clapping her hands together and bouncing in excitement like a little kid. Veer couldn’t help but chuckle at her antics, shaking his head with a fond smile.

"Go change, drama queen," Veer said, nudging her gently with his elbow.

A few minutes later, Sia came back, now dressed in her comfy pajama set, and plopped herself down at the dining table. Her sharp eyes immediately fell on the two plates of Maggi. Narrowing her gaze, she pointed at Veer’s plate accusingly. "Bhaaiyaa , you’ve taken more Maggi! This is cheating! You’re such a thief!" she declared, sliding her plate toward him and making a grab for his.

Veer smirked and pulled his plate away. "It’s called elder sibling tax, Sia. Accept it and move on."

"Tax my foot! That plate is mine!" she shot back dramatically, managing to snatch his plate while he wasn’t paying attention. Veer groaned but let her win, mumbling something “spoiled kids.”

As they ate, Veer suddenly asked, "By the way, why were you running after Rudra like a maniac earlier?"

Sia paused mid-slurp, her cheeks puffed out with noodles. After swallowing, she launched into a full recap of Aisha and Riya’s fight, complete with exaggerated hand gestures. "That’s why I needed to find Rudra! Please, bhaiya, talk to him! You both can help Aisha!" she pleaded, clasping her hands together dramatically.

Veer leaned back, smirking. "Help Aisha or… are you just finding reasons to chase Rudra?" he teased.

Sia threw a spoonful of Maggi at him. "Shut up, bhaiya! You're impossible!" she huffed, though her cheeks turned pink.

"Me? Chase Rudra? Not in this life!" Sia declared, flipping her hair dramatically. "I can like a non-living thing, but not him! He’s like… like… a cactus! Prickly and useless!"

Veer burst out laughing. "A cactus, huh? Why’s that?"

"Because even if you water him with kindness, he still pokes you!"

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Q.1 do we lovee rudraa????

Q.2 favourite dialogue???

Q.3 what do we think of aisha??

Youu all are deserving of lovee and unlimited happinnessss<3💗

Thankyou so much for existing. ilysm! 💗💋

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When we met. ✨