[Next Morning – School Corridor]

The corridor buzzed with morning chatter, but Rajvansh walked through it quietly, earphones plugged in, yet not playing anything. His mind was full — not with his usual sketches or banter with Karan — but with her words from yesterday.

"Mighty Raju."

She’d said it so softly… so painfully.

And he’d stood there, motionless, letting her voice fill the hollow he'd hidden for years.

Karan caught up beside him, nudging his arm.

“Bhai... bol diya hota na... ki tu hi hai uska Mighty Raju.”

Rajvansh shook his head, eyes ahead. “Abhi nahi. Jab yaad aaye poora, tab main khud bataunga.”

Karan grinned. “Hero banne ki full planning hai bhai ke paas.”

Rajvansh smiled faintly, gaze drifting toward the courtyard.

And there she was. Aarohi. Laughing with Naira and Ritik. Her laughter bright, but her eyes — still a little heavy.

She hadn’t forgotten the guilt.

But what she didn’t realize was that her remembering... was enough for now.

---

[School Assembly – After Morning Prayer]

Aarohi stood in front, reading out announcements, composed and clear as always. But a flicker of hesitation touched her voice when her gaze met Rajvansh’s.

He stood at the back, arms crossed, staring — not in anger, not in mischief — but something gentler.

When she stepped off the podium, their eyes met again. He gave a soft nod.

Forgiveness.

And something unspoken lingered in the air between them — something quietly beginning.

---

[Free Period – Library ]

The gang had scattered during the free period, some to the canteen, some pretending to study. Aarohi found herself near the library window, journal in hand, when footsteps approached.

It was Rajvansh.

He didn’t say much. Just held out a wrapped toffee bar.

“Maine suna sugar guilt kam karta hai,” he said casually.

Aarohi blinked, then gave a soft laugh. “Kya tum sab cheezein sketch karte ho ya feel bhi kar lete ho?”

He shrugged. “Kuch cheezein dikh jaati hain... jaise tumhari aankhon ka extra guilt mode.”

She looked down, touched. “Tum itne acche kyun ho?”

He smirked. “Ye toh tumhe kaafi pehle poochhna chahiye tha.”

A beat of silence.

Aarohi: “Waise... I'm really lucky to have such good friends...jo meri galti hone par bhi scene create nahi karte.”

His heart thudded.

He almost said it — almost told her he was the one — but instead, he softly said:

“Phir toh lucky hum hai… tumhare jaise friend ke saath....jo bina galti ke bhi 100kg ka guilt leke baar baar sorry bolti hai ”

They both laughed.

And in that laugh, something unbroken began to mend.

--------

[Meanwhile]

The sky blushed in shades of orange as Ritik and Naira sat watching the interaction of aarohi and rajvansh.

Ritik: “Aaru change ho gayi hai na?”

Naira: “Hmm. Aur Rajvansh bhi.”

Ritik (grinning): “Tumhe nahi lagta... kuch toh chal raha hai?”

Naira: “Woh dono nahi... par kuch toh zaroor.”

They clinked cold drinks and laughed — not knowing they were witnessing the beginning of something that had waited a whole decade.

--------

Aarohi was stacking her files when Ritik came in dramatically in the library, acting like he had endured great suffering.

Ritik (making a face): “Bas kar yaar! Kitna padhenge... library mein bore ho gaya. Garden chalo na, thodi masti karte hain. Antakshari time?”

Naira (excitedly): “Yes please! Mujhe toh aaj chill mode mein hi rehna hai.”

Aarohi (with a small smile): “Okay, chalo. Kuch masti ho jaaye.”

The group picked up their bags and headed toward the garden, settling under the wide Gulmohar tree. The sun had softened, and there was a comforting calm all around.

Karan (clapping): “Suno suno, rules ye hain ki har kisi ko ek letter diya jaayega. Usse gaana. Nahi aaya... toh ya dance ya dare. No bakchodi excuse chalega.”

Ritik: “First letter... jaayega Naira ko. Letter ‘M’.”

Naira (a little dramatic, secretly happy): “Uff... okay, okay…”

She twirled an imaginary dupatta and in her sweet, filmi voice sang:

“Main koi aisa geet gaoon... ke aarzoo jagaoon…”

Everyone clapped, and Naira gave an exaggerated bow like she was on stage.

Karan: “Yeh hui na baat! Agla letter... Miss Head Girl ke liye — ‘K’!”

Aarohi thought for a moment. The smile Rajvansh had sketched earlier crossed her mind again. She sneaked a glance at him—he was sitting a little away, watching her with the same quiet intensity.

Then, Aarohi began singing—softly, with an emotion that laced each note.

“Kuch to hai tujhse raabta... kaise hum jaane, hume kya pata…”

There was more than melody in her voice—there was a feeling. A faint memory perhaps. And it reached Rajvansh.

He didn’t react outwardly, just drew a tiny smile on the corner of his sketchbook.

Ritik (slow clap): “Kya feel daali hai bhai…”

Karan (mock fainting): “Mujhe toh emotional allergy hone lagi hai…”

Everyone: “Shut up, Karan!”

Ritik: “Agla number... Rajvansh ka. Letter ‘T’.”

Rajvansh (hesitant but calm):

“Tera hone laga hoon… jab se mila hoon…”

His voice was soft, almost like he was singing for himself—or just one person.

Naira (elbowing Aarohi softly): “Ye banda kuch alag hai…”

Karan (dramatic sigh): “Waah waah, Arijit Singh junior!”

Laughter filled the air as Karan’s turn came.

Ritik: “Bhai, letter hai — ‘O’.”

Karan (looking straight at Rajvansh, mischief in his eyes):

He stood up, grabbed an imaginary mic, and dramatically belted out:

“Oye Raju, pyaar na kariyo… dariyo dil toot jata hai!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Naira (laughing hard): “Tu pakka iss janam mein nautanki hi paida hua tha!”

Ritik: “Bhai... yeh toh roast ho gaya!”

Rajvansh (facepalming but smiling): “Karan... tu ruk ja bas…”

Aarohi (trying to contain her laughter): “Drama king certified!”

Karan (bowing): “Aur aap sab mere audience. Thank you, thank you.”

Laughter, teasing, shyness—it was all in the air. And in the midst of it all, Rajvansh glanced at Aarohi—catching that flicker of a smile that was so sketch-worthy.

Rajvansh (to himself): Mighty Raju ka naam toh aa gaya… par shayad ek din pehchaan bhi aa jaaye.

And as the sun dipped lower, another memory was quietly added to their story.

--------

The final bell of the day hadn't rung yet, but the energy from the garden’s antakshari had long faded. The group slumped into their seats for the most feared class of the day — Mathematics with Mr. Verma.

He entered the room with his signature frown and a thick stack of notes. The board was already filled with complex identities, triangles, and angles.

Mr. Verma (sternly): “ Ab hum identities aur transformations karenge. Open your notebooks. We’ll start with proving this —”

He turned to the board and wrote:

“sin(A + B) = sinAcosB + cosAsinB”

Groans spread like a wave across the room.

Karan (leaning to Ritik, whispering): “Yeh kya hai bhai... formula ya tongue twister?”

Mr. Verma (without turning): “Karan Shekhawat, any doubt? Aap board pe aake prove kar dijiye.”

Karan sat up straight. “Nahi sir! Mujhe toh bas... clarity ho gayi.”

Mr. Verma: “Good. Now note down these compound angle formulas. You’ll need them for every entrance exam from here till your grandchildren apply.”

Meanwhile, Rajvansh was writing, but his eyes kept drifting two benches ahead — Aarohi, twirling her pen, eyes locked on the board but clearly struggling to keep her mind on angles instead of antakshari flashbacks.

Mr. Verma (writing on board):

“cos2A = 2cos²A – 1 = 1 – 2sin²A”

“tan(A + B) = (tanA + tanB) / (1 – tanAtanB)”

Naira (murmuring to Aarohi): “Yeh toh Maths nahi... breakup ke emotions lag rahe hain — ‘tanA + tanB / 1 minus tanAtanB’ — like seriously?”

Aarohi (grinning softly): “Yeah, very toxic relationship energy.”

From the back bench, Ritik raised his hand dramatically.

Ritik: “Sir, yeh tanAtanB ka breakup kab hua tha?”

The class erupted. Mr. Verma gave him a death stare.

Mr. Verma: “Focus! Else I’ll give you a graph of your marks... and trust me, it won’t be increasing.”

But amidst the formulas and jibes, Rajvansh smiled to himself.

Because right now, even a trigonometric identity couldn't explain the new equation forming slowly between him and the girl,he has loved all his life.

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