Ishanya's Pov
I was walking through my dream university like I owned the place. My first lecture? Killed it. I was literally the smartest person in the room. As I walked out of the hall, the vibe was just... perfect. And then, I saw Him.
The kind of guy you see in those slow-motion aesthetic reels. "Hayee inna sona mundaa...."The most popular boy in college, leaning against a pillar, looking straight at me. He actually raised his hand and waved. At me! My heart was doing a full Bollywood dance number. He was slowly walking towards me and I was walking towards him.It was a whole bollywood slo-mo scene.And then Splashh....
The cinematic lighting was replaced by a brutal, freezing wave of water that went straight up my nose and into my ears.
"MUMMY! NAYIIII!" I shrieked, bolting upright like a zombie.
I wasn't in University .I was in my bed in Jalandhar, dripping wet.
"Ishanya! Ni uth ja hun! Swere de chaar vaji gaye ne te tu hale vi sapne dekh rahi ae?" Mummy ji's voice entered my ears.
(Ishanya! Get up now! It's 4:00 a.m. and you're still dreaming?)
" Je train nikal gayi na, ta tera IIT Delhi da admission vi sapna hi reh jana ae. Khadi ho chheti chheti!"
(" If the train leaves, your IIT Delhi admission will remain a dream too. Stand up, fast!" Mom shouted).
I was a literal whirlwind of panic. One foot was hopped into a sneaker while the other was still bare, searching blindly for a sock under the bed. I was tossing books, chargers, and my dignity into a backpack while trying to brush my hair at the same time.
I bolted toward the kitchen.I didn't even have time to chew. I grabbed the sandwich and shoved half of it into my mouth, my cheeks bulging like a squirrel’s.
DRRRINGING. DRRRING. DRRRING.
The doorbell started screaming. It wasn't just a ring; it was a rhythmic, frantic SOS.
"ISHANYA! OPEN THE DOOR! THE TRAIN IS LITERALLY GOING TO LEAVE US!" Mahi was shouting from the other side, her thumb clearly glued to the doorbell.
"I'm opening it! Chill!" I tried to yell, but it came out as a muffled, bready grunt because of the sandwich stuffed in my face.
I reached for the handle, tripped over my own discarded dupatta, and nearly face-planted into the wood. I yanked the door open, still chewing furiouslyI grabbed my heavy bag, my mother threw a bottle of water at me like she was passing a relay baton, and we literally tumbled out of the house. We were two girls, dragging enough luggage to last a decade, sprinting through the dark Jalandhar streets. My lungs were burning, my heart was hammering against my ribs, and I was still trying to swallow that last bite of bread.
This wasn't the aesthetic university entrance I wanted. This was a marathon, and we were losing.
We reached the platform, and the train was already letting out that final, terrifying whistle. Hooooooooonk!
"RUN, Anyaaaa ! DON'T LOOK BACK!" Mahi screamed.
We weren't running; we were flying. I felt like a character in an action movie, minus the cool music and the slow-motion. We dodged a sleeping dog, skipped over a pile of crates, and threw our suitcases through the open door of a moving compartment.
With one final, lung-bursting jump, I grabbed the handle and hauled myself up, Mahi right behind me. We collapsed onto the metal floor, gasping for air, sweating in the pre-dawn chill, and smelling faintly of grilled cheese.
I looked at Mahi. She looked at me.
"We made it," she wheezed.
"Yeah," I coughed, finally swallowing the sandwich. "Only five more hours of torture to go."
****
It was scorching heat. My clothes were already glued to my skin, and my face was a map of smeared sunscreen and dripping sweat. I looked at Mahi; her hair had doubled in volume from the frizz, and she looked like she was ready to punch the sun.
Then came the Metro. It wasn't a station; it was a battlefield.
The doors hissed open, and a wall of people exploded out. I didn't even walk; I was carried inside by the sheer force of the crowd. I ended up pinned against the glass partition, my face inches away from a grumpy uncle’s shoulder. Mahi was somewhere to my right, her arm twisted at an awkward angle, clutching a handrail for dear life.
"Next station... IIT" the robotic voice announced.
"Finally," I whispered, my voice thick with desperation. I stepped out into the crowded market, my fuse short and my patience gone completely.
Vedaksh's Pov
The flight from Canada had been twelve hours of sterile air and quiet luxury, but the moment I stepped out of Indira Gandhi International, Delhi hit me like a physical blow. It wasn't just the heat—it was the smell of dust, diesel, and a thousand lives crossing paths.
I sat in the back of a yellow-and-green cab, my fingers tracing the edges of a crumpled envelope. Inside was a note from my Nani, written in her shaky, elegant script. It was the address of my mother’s childhood home—the house she grew up in, the house she spoke about until her last breath.
The house had been sold years ago to strangers, but I was here to reclaim it. I was here for a mother who was no longer around to tell me these stories herself.
"Sir, further is not possible!" the cab driver shouted, snapping me out of my thoughts. He pointed at a narrow, swarming market street that looked like a human beehive. "Market is blocked. Your colony is just inside. Walk from here!"
Before I could even argue, he had hauled my silver suitcase out of the trunk and dumped it on the dusty curb. With a cloud of black exhaust and a final honk, he sped off, leaving me standing there like a misplaced tourist.
I adjusted my sunglasses, feeling the sweat prickle at the back of my neck. I had grown up in the cool, organized streets of London; this market was a chaotic labyrinth of honking rickshaws, shouting vendors, and people who didn't seem to understand the concept of "personal space.
Third person POV
On one side, Ishanya was stomping through the dirt, her face a fiery red from the heat. She was internally cursing the Metro, the sun, and the very concept of higher education.
On the other side, Vedaksh was navigating the crowd like a displaced prince, his silver suitcase glinting under the harsh sun.
They were barely three feet apart—two ticking time bombs of irritation.
A stray dog, napping under a vegetable cart, took offense to the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of Ishanya’s broken suitcase wheel. It bolted upright and let out a sharp, ear-piercing "BHOW! BHOW!"
"MUMMY!" Ishanya shrieked, her nervous system officially snapping.
The fright sent her into a violent, panicked jerk.
she crashed straight into the side of the tall guy in the expensive black hoodie.
Vedaksh didn't even see it coming.
"What the—!" he gasped.His sleek silver suitcase hit a loose brick, flipped onto its side, and Vedaksh landed flat on his back—right on top of his own luggage with a bone-rattling thud. An instant later, Ishanya came flying down, her weight pinning him to his own suitcase. Her forehead slammed right into his chin with a sickening clack.
"OW!" Ishanya yelled, clutching her head while still sprawled across his chest.
"Oof! Seriously?" Vedaksh winced, his hands pushing at her shoulders to keep some distance. "Is this a robbery or are you just naturally this clumsy?"
Ishanya’s face went from pale shock to a shade of angry crimson.
"Clumsy?!" Ishanya snapped, finally untangling herself and standing up, dusting off her sweat-soaked clothes with shaky, angry hands. "A dog barked at me! And you—with your fancy suitcase and your 'attitude'—you didn't even move! My head is literally throbbing because of your chin!"
"Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Highness!" Ishanya rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. "I’ll be sure to check your bank balance before I trip next time. Move your suitcase, you're blocking the whole path!"
"The path is five feet wide," Vedaksh muttered, adjusting his shades and looking at her like she was a stray hurricane. "Maybe keep your eyes open instead of your mouth. It might help."
Mahi stood a few feet away, her mouth hanging open. "Anya... maybe we should just go?"
"Gladly!" Ishanya huffed, grabbing her bag and intentionally hitting the wheel against Vedaksh's suitcase as she stomped past him.
Vedaksh watched her go, rubbing his sore jaw. "Unbelievable," he whispered to himself. "Welcome to India, indeed."
Vedaksh let out a long, suffering sigh, ignoring the girl's attitude as he knelt on the dusty pavement. His sleek silver suitcase had popped open from the impact, and his life was currently scattered across the street.
Beside him, Ishanya was still vibrating with post-fall adrenaline. She was trying to regain her dignity, but the universe—and that specific stray dog—wasn't finished with her yet.
The dog let out another series of ear-splitting, aggressive barks. "BHOW! BHOW! BHOW-BHOW!"
"OH, SHUT UP!" Ishanya snapped, her temper finally hitting the red zone.
In a moment of pure, unthinking reflex, she reached down, yanked her right jutti off her foot.
She didn't even aim properly; she just wanted the noise to stop.
"Hatt!" she yelled, throwing it with all her might.
The dog, being a smart Delhi native, simply ducked.
At that exact micro-second, Vedaksh started to stand up, clutching his recovered passport and headphones.
Then he felt the sharp, sudden THWACK of a hard leather sole connecting perfectly with the back of his head.
"OW! What the fuckk!" Vedaksh yelped, his head snapping forward.
His eyes narrowing as he looked from the shoe on the ground to the girl standing like a flamingo on one leg. "Did you just assault me with your footwear?"
"I—I was aiming for the dog!" Ishanya stammered, her voice high-pitched. "It’s not my fault you stood up at the wrong time!"
"The wrong time?" Vedaksh picked up the jutti by two fingers.
"I was picking up my belongings that you scattered! First you tackle me, then you use me as a mattress, and now you’re throwing shoes at my head? Is this how you greet people in Delhi, or do you just have a personal grudge against my personal safety?"
"It was an accident, okay! Give me my shoe back!" Ishanya reached for it.
"Accident?" Vedaksh held the shoe just out of her reach, his jaw set.
"Is this a joke to you?" Vedaksh’s voice was dangerously calm, though his eyes were sparking with irritation. "You crashed into me, used me as a shock absorber, and now you’ve physically assaulted me with a shoe. I’m not moving an inch until I hear a very sincere apology."
"Apologize?" Ishanya barked a sarcastic laugh, her hands on her hips. "I was trying to save us from a rabid dog! You should be thanking me for my reflexes."
"Reflexes? You hit the wrong species!" Vedaksh countered, waving the shoe. "Apologize. Right now."
The stubbornness inside Ishanya reached a boiling point. She looked at her one bare foot, then at her other foot, and then back at his arrogant, handsome face. A slow, mischievous, and very angry smirk spread across her lips.
"You want my shoe so bad?" she challenged.
Before Mahi could stop her, Ishanya reached down and yanking off her other jutti. With a defiant flick of her wrist, she tossed it right at his feet.
"There! Now you have the full set!" she yelled, her voice ringing through the market. "I don’t want them anymore. Keep them! Frame them! Put them in a museum for all I care, but I am never apologizing to a stuck-up jerk like you. Uh-uh Khotte da puttar!!"(Son of donkey)
She turned back around, head held high, hobbling away toward the IIT gates like a warrior who had lost her boots but won the soul of the battle.
Back in the middle of the chaos, Vedaksh froze.
But as those words—Khotte da puttar—hit his ears, his grip on his silver suitcase tightened.
"What the fuckingg hell ?" he whispered to himself, his jaw dropping slightly. "Did she really cursed me!"
"Does she really think I don't understand Punjabi? Does she think I'm some random foreigner?"
With a shrug of his shoulders, he didn't pick them up. He didn't even look back. He adjusted his backpack and walked straight into the colony, leaving the shoes behind.
Ishanya stopped. She looked at the shimmering heat rising from the road and then looked back. Vedaksh was gone. He had actually left her shoes.
"Wait, Mahi," Ishanya gasped, her bravado finally cracking as the heat started to actually burn her skin. "He... he really left them?"
"Ugh! I hate him!" Ishanya groaned. She looked at the crowd, then at her bare feet, and then at her beautiful, hand-embroidered juttis.
They were new. She had bought them specifically for her first day at IIT. She couldn't afford to lose her amritsari juttis.
With a frustrated huff, she reached the spot and wore her juttis back.
"I am only wearing these because they're expensive and I love them!" she yelled to nobody in particular, shoving her feet back into the leather. "Not because I
'm giving up!"
She stood up, adjusted her messy hair,"Khotte da puttar," she muttered one last time before marching toward the university gates...
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