“Rajjjjjj! Get up! You’re getting late… yaad hai na aaj naye school ka pehla din hai?”

Rajshree screamed, dragging her sleepy son out of his dreams.

“Oye Kumbhkaran ki chhathi aulaad, uthta hai ya tere papa ko bulau abhi?”

She snatched the duvet off him.

“Kya yaar, mummy… abhi toh time hai na…” he mumbled, checking his alarm clock.

“Aaaaaaa! 8 baj gaye?! Aapne uthaya kyun nahi, mummy!”

He shot up from bed in panic.

“Pehle din hi late ho jaunga... Aaru se milna hai mujheeyy!”

“Ah ha haa, maine nahi uthaya?” Rajshree teased, walking to the kitchen.

“Sapnon ki duniya se bahar aao, beta. Jaldi ready ho ja!”

He rushed to the bathroom—only to find it locked.

“Aaravvvvv! Itni der se bathroom mein kya kar raha hai? Jab main so raha tha, tab nahi ja sakta tha?”

“Shant bhaiya, shant,” Aarav replied from inside.

“Bhabhi se milne ja rahe ho kya? Bina nahaaye kaise jaaun? Main bhi naye school ja raha hoon. Ready toh ache se hona padega. Kya pata mujhe bhi koi mil jaaye…” he teased.

“Agar tu 5 minute mein bahar nahi aaya na, tere chehre ka aisa haal karunga ki koi ladki dekhke hi darr jaaye!”

“Hey Shivji, mere bhole bhale bhai ko kya ho gaya aaj?” Aarav mocked.

(Well, jab baat Madam ji ki ho toh thoda pagal hona banta hai.) Rajvansh smiled to himself.

“Chhote please, jaldi aaja!”

“Ye hui na mere bhai wali baat,” Aarav finally opened the door, letting him through.

“Ja bhai, bhabhi se milne ja. Main koi gadbad nahi chahta.”

---

Meanwhile, at Aarohi’s home—it was cold, silent, and heavy.

She had woken up at 5 a.m., already done with her meditation, workout, and daily routine.

“Laddu, aaj naye class ka pehla din hai... sab achha karna, daya karna, raksha karna... Love you so much,” she whispered to her Laddu Gopal idol, offering bhog with a small smile.

Then, like every day, she quietly packed tiffins for herself and her father.

“Aaj toh papa ka favourite khana banaya hai…” she whispered.

But just as she placed it on the counter—

“Kitni baar kaha hai maine, koi zarurat nahi hai mere liye khana banane ki!”

Manav’s shout echoed, making her flinch.

She stood there for a moment, voice trembling but face calm.

“Agar aapka mann na kare toh kisi zaruratmand ko de dena,” she replied softly and walked away.

After a pause, Manav entered the kitchen and stared at the tiffin.

“I’m not worthy of your efforts, beta…” he whispered.

---

Aarohi masked her pain and boarded the bus with grace and silence, her heart a little heavier.

---

Meanwhile…

Rajvansh’s phone rang.

“Haan bol,” he snapped.

“Are manners vanners kuch hain ya nahi? Seedha ‘haan bol’?” Karan teased.

“Tujhme manners hain?” Raj replied.

“Maine bola tha sath chalenge school… lekin nahi, tujhe toh vacations manani thi.”

“Yaar abhi 10th ke exams diye hain... break toh banta hai,” Karan defended.

“Par tu bata, nervous lag raha hai?”

“Itne saal baad milunga usse… pehchaan bhi nahi payegi mujhe.”

“Aur tu pehchaanega use? Tune bhi toh nahi dekha use saalon se.”

“Uski tasveer dekhne ki zarurat nahi… uski aankhon mein jo masti hoti thi, wahi toh sabse pehle dikh jaayegi mujhe,” Raj said with a soft smile.

“Bas ab senti hona bandh kar aur ja. Best of luck—and kisi aur ko best friend mat banana!”

Rajvansh chuckled and cut the call.

“I’m coming, my love…” he whispered.

---

At school, Rajvansh ran toward his class—and bumped straight into her.

She turned, fuming.

“Dikhta nahi kya? Aankhen hain ya button?”

He froze—those brown eyes. But something had changed. The sparkle was gone, replaced with something deeper.

His heart skipped a beat.

“Pagal ho kya? Ek toh takkar maar ke mera sar phod diya, upar se ghoor rahe ho tharki jaise!”

“I… I… I’m sorry, madam,” he stammered, bowing slightly like a gentleman.

She blinked, stunned for a moment.

“Ye thoda zyada nahi ho gaya?” she muttered to herself.

Looking around, she added awkwardly,

“Vo… koi baat nahi.”

Some girls nearby swooned over him—his looks, his manners. Aarohi rolled her eyes and walked away in disgust.

But Rajvansh stood there, still frozen.

Mouth slightly open.

Heart pounding.