The next day, Ruhani did something she had spent the entire night promising herself she wouldn't do.

She sat in the campus café at precisely 2:45 PM.

The booth by the window—strategically chosen. The perfect angle to the counter—carefully calculated. Her iced caramel latte—untouched, because caffeine couldn't compete with the adrenaline in her veins.

This was the time Raj Malhotra usually showed up after football practice, and Ruhani Thakral, star of her own dramatic love saga, was ready to torture herself again. She didn't talk. Didn't even scroll Instagram.

She just watched the door, and then—there he was.

Sweat-damp hair pushed back like he'd just walked out of a sports commercial. T-shirt clinging to muscles that must have been hand-crafted with sinful intent. Laugh loud and easy—the kind that made everyone else want to laugh too. He ordered his cold coffee, leaned back like the world existed merely to support his posture, and then casually scrolled through his phone.

It wasn't fair for someone to look that good while just... breathing. Ruhani was halfway through a fantasy about tripping and falling into his arms (preferably without exposing too much cleavage—though she wasn't opposed) when—she appeared.

A junior girl—the type who looked like she'd stepped off a Pinterest board: Straight, silky hair; Skinny jeans that treated body fat like a myth; A smile that didn't need courage to exist

She walked up to Raj, hips swinging with the confidence of someone who had never known insecurity. She said something. He smiled back, and just like that—Ruhani's heart folded in on itself like wet paper.

She looked down quickly, pretending to stir her coffee, eyes burning with the weight of everything she wished she wasn't.

She knew her place in the college food chain: she wasn't the girl boys wrote songs about. She wasn't the one they chased down hallways or posted on their stories. No jackets draped over her shoulders. No secret admirers lurking near lockers.

She was the girl boys joked near—never for. The girl with the loud laugh and louder insecurities. The girl who pretended she loved the spotlight, because the shadows were far more cruel. So why did she even dare to look at someone like Raj Malhotra?

Because when he walked into a room, something inside her whispered, "Maybe this time the universe will pick me too. Maybe this is where my story changes."

Raj glanced around casually—just once—and for a heartbeat too long, his eyes passed over her table.

Ruhani's breath caught. Her world stopped. Did he see her? Did he notice? Was that a flicker of interest?

Probably not... But that tiny sliver of maybe...that stupid, fragile little spark...was enough to make her heart hope again. Enough to keep her sitting there, 2:45 PM sharp, for as long as fate allowed. Because even if he hadn't seen her yet... Ruhani already felt chosen.

And hope—especially first love hope—is a stubborn, beautiful thing.

That night, Ruhani lay in bed with her fairy lights glowing faintly—tiny stars trapped inside plastic wires. They cast soft constellations on the ceiling, but none of them could distract her racing thoughts.

Her phone buzzed every now and then with college group chats, memes, and Sia's dramatic voice notes—but she ignored them all. She clutched her pillow the way some people clutched hopes. Tight. Desperate.

Her heart—traitorous and loud—kept repeating the same scene on loop: Raj's laugh, Raj's smile, and Raj's eyes skimming over her table for that split second.

She exhaled sharply, willing her chest to stop aching with dreams.

"You're being silly, Ruhani," she whispered to herself, her voice fragile in the darkness. "He's a walking heartbreak in designer sneakers. He's the kind of boy you admire from a distance... not the one who looks back."

Her laugh forced itself out—a small, broken sound.

Because who was she kidding? Raj Malhotra was every girl's wish list wrapped in temptation. The universe clearly stamped him with a label that said, "Warning: Not for girls with fragile hearts."

But deep down, beneath all the bravado and glitter, Ruhani already knew the truth: she was in too deep of a crush on him.... Way too deep.

All it took was one smile from him—one real look—and she'd probably forget how to stand, how to breathe, and how to pretend she didn't care. Her insecurities crawled into the quiet spaces between her ribs:

What if she wasn't pretty enough? Thin enough? Cool enough? Worth noticing enough?

She rolled to her side, squeezing her eyes shut to stop tears she'd never admit to. Not even to Priya Di... Not even to herself.

Outside her window, the city lights blinked like secrets waiting to be discovered. Fate waited too—patient, smirking like it already knew how this story would twist.