Author pov

The first rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains of my small room. Ananya opened my eyes slowly, stretching my arms. Today wasn’t just any day—it was the day. Her first day of college. Her heart fluttered with excitement, but also with nervousness.

She quickly folded my blanket, as Ma always taught her, and went straight to the bathroom. The cold water splashed against my skin as she bathed,

They she went to dinning room,

“Good morning, Papa, Ma!” she chirped as shw entered the dining room.

Ramesh lowered his newspaper, giving me one of his strict-but-soft smiles. “Hmm, meri anu. First day of college, haan? Remember, study hard. No wasting time.”

“Ji, Papa,” I nodded quickly.

Sunita served hot parathas on my plate. “Eat well, beta. You’ll need energy.”

With that, I ate quickly, hugged Ma, waved to Papa,  and left the house with a racing heartbeat. My college journey had begun.

--

The campus was buzzing with noise—laughter, chatter, the sound of hurried footsteps. Freshman orientation was always chaos, but to Ananya Sharma, it felt like stepping into a new universe.

Her heart thudded as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, clutching her coffee cup like it was a lifeline.

“First day, Anu,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t screw it up. Just… smile, nod, be normal.”

Which would have been easier if the campus wasn’t filled with students who looked like they had just stepped out of a Bollywood fashion shoot.

Ananya, in her simple kurti-jeans combo, braid swinging, felt small but stubbornly lifted her chin. She wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to study literature, make her parents proud, and survive her freshman year.



(ananya's outfit),

But fate, clearly, had other plans.

Because the next second, she collided—hard—into something tall, hard, and immovable.

Or… someone.

Her coffee flew out of her hand, splashing across the crisp white shirt of a man towering over her.

Her eyes widened.

“Oh my God—”

The man froze, then slowly looked down at his ruined shirt. Then at her.

Grey eyes. Stormy, sharp, and filled with something that made her stomach flip. His jaw clenched, his lips curved—not in kindness, but in a smirk that screamed danger.

“Are you blind, chhoti si cheez?” he drawled, voice deep and mocking.

(you 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨)

Ananya blinked. “Excuse me?”

He glanced at the spreading coffee stain, then at her tiny frame. “You know, usually girls spill coffee just to get my attention. But this—this is creative.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?!”

“You could’ve just asked for my number,” he continued lazily, brushing at his shirt, “but no, you had to assault me with caffeine. Dramatic. I’ll give you that.”

Her shock melted into irritation.

“Listen, Mr. Arrogant, it was an accident! And for your kind information, I don’t even want your number.”

The corner of his lips curved higher. “Sure, sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that.”

Sweetheart. The nerve!

Before she could retort, a group of students came over, greeting him with way too much respect.

“Aarav bhai, orientation hall mein aa rahe ho?”

“Bro, you okay? Need a new shirt?”

(𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘷 𝘣𝘳𝘰, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭)

Ananya froze. Aarav?

As in—Aarav Malhotra.

The senior. The richest guy on campus. The bad boy billionaire heir whose reputation was as famous as his looks. Girls drooled, boys envied, professors tolerated because of his fat “donations.”

And she had just baptized him in coffee.

Wonderful.

Aarav’s grey eyes lingered on her, amusement dancing there. “Run along, little freshman. Try not to trip on your way to orientation.”

Heat flared in her cheeks. She hated being dismissed.

“I’m not little,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “You’re just unnaturally… oversized.”

His friends snorted. Aarav’s smirk deepened, like she had just unknowingly signed a contract with the devil.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning closer. “This campus is mine. And now…” His eyes swept her face slowly, deliberately. “…you’ve made yourself interesting.”

Her breath caught—but she quickly scowled, stepping back. “Congratulations. You’ve officially ruined my first day.”

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. “Oh, freshman. This was just the beginning.”

---

At evening

The Sharma household always smelled like warmth—fresh food, detergent, and the faint scent of incense sticks that Ananya’s mother lit every evening. As soon as she pushed open the door, she was greeted by the sound of her papa’s voice calling out from the living room.

“Arre, aa gayi meri anu!”

Ananya plastered on a bright smile, hiding the storm inside her. The memory of a certain oversized, arrogant senior smirking down at her was still fresh in her head. Ugh. Just thinking about him made her want to scream into a pillow.

“Kaisa tha pehla din college ka, anu?” her father asked, putting down his newspaper and adjusting his spectacles. His eyes twinkled with pride.

(How was your first day of college anu)

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t tell him that her very first day involved spilling coffee on a billionaire senior and being publicly mocked. Nope. Papa didn’t need that stress.

So she smiled and lied. “Bahut accha tha, Papa. Everyone was so nice.”

Her father’s smile grew wider. “Meri beti toh sabke dil jeet legi. Mera dil toh pehle hi jeet liya.”

(𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯)

“Bas, bas, ab bas bhi kijiye.” Her mother appeared from the kitchen, hands on her hips, but her eyes were soft. “Jao, jaake fresh ho jao, anu.”

(𝘌𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘶)

Ananya grinned. “okay, Papa ki jaaneman!” she chirped, darting toward her room before her mother could scold her.

Her mom shook her head. “Ye ladki kabhi nahi sudhregi.”

(𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦)

Her father chuckled, folding the newspaper. “Aur sudharna bhi nahi chahiye. Jaisi hai, perfect hai.”

(𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴)

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Aap kya has rahe hai, haan?”

(𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘸)

“Sorry, meri janeman,” he said instantly, hands raised in surrender.

(𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨)

She snorted. “Baap aur beti… dono ek jaise. Ziddi.”

(𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘯)

Her father only laughed louder.

---

Ananya collapsed face-first onto her bed the moment her door shut. “Ughhhhh!” she groaned into her pillow.

Of course, her mind replayed every second of her encounter with Aarav Malhotra. His stormy grey eyes, the cocky smirk, that mocking “sweetheart.” Who did he think he was? King of the world?

Okay, technically he kind of is rich enough to act like it.

But still. Jerk.

Her phone buzzed. She rolled over and grabbed it. A new message.

Meera [ BFF 💕]: “Soooooo??? How was day 1?? Spill!!”

Ananya smiled despite herself. She quickly typed.

Ananya: “It was fine. I mean… except for one disaster.”

Almost immediately, her phone buzzed again.

Meera: “Omg?? Disaster?? Do tell 👀”

Ananya: “I… may have accidentally spilled coffee on someone.”

Meera: “😂😂 anu already making statements! Who was it?”

Ananya hesitated, then typed:

Ananya: “Aarav Malhotra.”

The typing bubbles popped up instantly. Then came the flood.

Meera: “ARE YOU SERIOUS??? Like THE Aarav Malhotra?? Campus God?? Bad boy billionaire?? HOTTEST senior alive??”

Ananya: “He’s NOT hot. He’s… annoying. Arrogant. Oversized.”

Meera: “Oversized?? 🤣 Girl what??”

Ananya: “He called me ‘chhoti si cheez’ 😒.”

Meera: “Wait wait wait. Aarav Malhotra actually TALKED to you?? Like a full convo?? You’re done for.”

Ananya: “What do you mean?? I hate him already.”

Meera: “Exactly. That’s how it starts in every movie. Hate = sparks. Sparks = chemistry. Chemistry = love. Congrats, freshie, you’re the heroine now.”

Ananya buried her face in her pillow. “This girl is insane,” she muttered. Then typed:

Ananya: “Stop watching K-dramas, Meera.”

Meera: “Can’t. Won’t. Btw, what’s he like up close?? 👀👀👀”

Ananya thought for a moment.

Ananya: “Tall. Too tall. Grey eyes. Smirky face. Thinks he owns the campus.”

Meera: “Sounds hot. 😍”

Ananya: “Sounds irritating. 😑”

But her mind betrayed her, flashing back to that moment when he leaned close, his voice low: Careful, sweetheart.

Her stomach flipped. She scowled at herself. Nope. Not happening. She wasn’t going to fall into the “bad boy trap.”

Before she could type a comeback, her phone buzzed again.

Meera: “Okay okay I’ll shut up. But mark my words, Ananya Sharma. You and Aarav Malhotra = story of the year.”

Ananya rolled her eyes and tossed her phone aside. “Over my dead body.”

She didn’t realize that across town, someone else was making a very different kind of noise.

--

The roar of engines split the night air. Neon lights reflected off shiny motorcycles lined up on a deserted stretch of highway.

Aarav Malhotra revved his bike, the deep growl echoing in his chest like a promise. The leather jacket clung to his frame, his hair messy from the helmet, his eyes lit with the thrill of danger.

Beside him, Kabir Kapoor adjusted his gloves. “Bro, you sure about this? That last turn is brutal.”

Aarav smirked, resting his forearms casually on the handles. “When have I ever been not sure?”

Kabir shook his head. “One of these days, you’re gonna kill yourself trying to prove a point.”

Aarav’s lips curved. “Point is, I always win.”

Across the makeshift track, other riders were revving too—seniors, outsiders, thrill-seekers who knew better than to challenge Aarav Malhotra. But tonight, one cocky rich brat from another college had dared.

“You’re going down, Malhotra!” the guy shouted over the noise.

Aarav tilted his head lazily. “Cute.”

Kabir leaned closer, lowering his voice. “So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been smirking all day?”

Aarav’s grey eyes flickered, just for a second, with the memory of a tiny girl glaring up at him. “Nothing.”

Kabir snorted. “Bullshit. I know that look. Spill.”

Aarav revved the bike, smirk deepening. “Freshman. Spilled coffee on me.”

Kabir blinked, then burst out laughing. “Wait. A freshman? Spilled coffee on YOU? Ohhh this is gold.”

Aarav didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the track ahead.

Kabir smirked knowingly. “Let me guess… small, cute, feisty? Didn’t fall for your charm?”

A muscle in Aarav’s jaw ticked. “Feisty, yes. Cute? Not my type.”

“Liar,” Kabir singsonged. “I can see it in your face. Finally, someone got under your skin.”

The countdown began.

Three. Two. One.

Engines roared. Tires screeched. The bikes shot forward like bullets.

Aarav leaned into the wind, every nerve alive, every sense on fire. The road blurred, the cheers faded, until there was only the pulse of adrenaline and the sweet rush of speed.

Kabir’s words echoed in the back of his mind. Finally, someone got under your skin.

And against his will, grey eyes darkened as he saw her again—braid swinging, chin lifted, eyes blazing as she called him Mr. Arrogant.

For the first time in years, the great Aarav Malhotra felt… intrigued.

He hit the finish line seconds ahead of the others, bike skidding to a perfect stop. The crowd erupted in cheers.

Aarav pulled off his helmet, running a hand through his hair, smirk firmly in place. Kabir rolled up seconds later, shaking his head. “You’re addicted, man. To speed. To danger. And now…” He grinned. “To a freshman.”

Aarav shoved his helmet at him. “Shut up.”

But as the night stretched on, and his phone buzzed with messages he didn’t bother answering, Aarav knew one thing.

The little freshman with the coffee and the sass wasn’t leaving his head anytime soon.