Chapter 2: Petals and Promises
The morning sun poured through the wrought-iron gates of Raikar Government College, casting a lattice of golden slats that shimmered across the campus entrance.
Petals—soft pinks of roses, fiery marigolds glowing like embers, and delicate jasmine trailing like whispered secrets—clung to the dark metal, drifting gently in the cool spring breeze. Their sweet perfume wove through the air, mingling with the crisp scent of dew, creating a symphony of freshness that wrapped around me like a tender embrace. I paused, my breath stolen by the riot of blooms, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird, caught between awe and anticipation. This was it—the threshold of my new life, a canvas of possibility painted in vibrant hues.
Reaching for my phone, I murmured to myself, "Just one selfie," my voice a soft confession to the empty pathway. Tilting my chin up, I pressed my lips into a playful pout, the cascade of colors behind me framing the moment like a scene from a dream. I glanced left and right—empty pathways stretching beneath the gulmohar trees, their fiery blooms swaying gently—and snapped the shot, my cheeks warming at my own boldness. A giggle escaped me, a spark of defiance against the shy girl I'd left behind.
Then, as if the moment were too perfect to linger in, I dashed onward, my sneakers tapping lightly on the cobblestone path, determined not to embarrass myself further.
A few minutes later, I stood before the polished touchscreen of the college dashboard, mounted on a gleaming column of marble that reflected the morning light in soft, pearlescent gleams. My fingers trembled as I tapped the confirmation screen, and my name—Nisha Sharma—glowed back at me in crisp white letters, stark and proud. Beneath it, equally pristine: Classroom 2B, Seat 14. A thrill shot through me, electric and fierce, igniting my veins with a rush of triumph. It felt like victory personified, a tangible proof of the battles I'd fought—late nights, endless study guides, and quiet dreams now realized. My cheeks ached from the wide grin I couldn't suppress. "That's it," I whispered, my heart pounding like a drumbeat of hope. "I'm really growing up now."
But even as pride bloomed warm in my chest, another ambition bubbled at the edges of my mind, secret and daring: find a college boyfriend. A mischievous grin curved my lips, the thought sparking a delicious thrill. "He'll spot me—and fall," I rehearsed under my breath, already picturing the perfect moment—a chance encounter, a shared glance that set my heart racing, a love story unfolding like the pages of a light novel. I could almost see him: charming, breathtaking, the kind of boy who'd make my world tilt with a single smile.
Steeling myself, I pushed open the heavy wooden door to Room 2B, its creak a soft herald of my arrival. Inside, the air buzzed with the nervous chatter of new students, their voices weaving a tapestry of excitement and uncertainty. Pale oak benches gleamed under the soft glow of overhead lights, arranged in neat rows that promised order amidst the chaos of first days. A poster on the wall caught my eye, its bold letters declaring, "Your deskmate is your partner for every assignment," and my pulse quickened, a flutter of anticipation. I imagined a handsome companion sliding into the empty seat beside me, his presence the spark to ignite my college romance.
Before I could locate my desk, the door swung open again with a quiet thud, and my breath caught in my throat. There he stood—Dev Jaiswal. Tall and effortlessly striking, his dark hair was neatly combed, each strand catching the morning light like polished obsidian, framing a face that seemed crafted for heartbeats to skip. His grey blazer hung with a casual elegance, his broad shoulders carrying an easy confidence that drew every eye in the room. He was a vision, like a movie star stepping onto a set, and the air seemed to shift, charged with his presence. My heart stuttered as his dark eyes swept the room, locking onto mine for a fleeting, electric moment that sent my pulse racing.
Then, just as suddenly, he paused. His chest rose with a deep breath, as though summoning courage, and my heart hung in the balance, expectant, hopeful—until he turned on his heel and walked right back out, barely sparing me another glance. My chest deflated, a shaky sigh escaping my lips, a tangle of relief and disappointment twisting in my gut. Why did it sting? Why did I care? I wanted to brush it off, to reclaim the excitement of the morning, but his presence lingered like a shadow I couldn't shake.
I thought it was annoying that I had to get sucked into this mess the day of the entrance ceremony but… I mumbled under my breath, pressing both hands to my temples in exasperation, as if I could push away the turmoil he'd stirred. My mind raced, replaying the moment, the way his eyes had met mine before he'd turned away. It was infuriating, the way he could unravel me without even trying.
Dev ended up in the same class as me. What are the odds, right? And on top of that, I was assigned to be his deskmate… Is this some kind of prank from heaven above? Why, God? Why? I shouted in my mind, the words echoing against the vaulted ceilings of my thoughts, a silent plea to the universe for mercy. The irony was cruel—Dev Jaiswal, the boy who'd once shattered my heart with a careless rejection, now tethered to me by fate's twisted sense of humor. My deskmate, my partner for every assignment, a constant reminder of a past I'd vowed to bury.
"I'm looking forward to being your deskmate for a year, Ni. Sha." His voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, smooth and warm, tinged with that infuriating charm. He leaned back in his chair, resting his right hand against his cheek as he looked at me, his smile lazy yet disarming, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something softer I couldn't place.
I let out a weary sigh, my shoulders slumping under the weight of my resolve. All right… Let's just take it in stride. I don't have time to deal with Dev. I've been working hard on myself so that I could have a glow up in college. We just went to the same junior college; there is no true connection between us. I'm going to ignore the fact that I was dumped in the past and just ignore him, I vowed, clinging to a fragile hope for a future that felt tenuous at best. The words were a mantra, a shield against the pull of his presence, a promise to the new Nisha I was determined to become.
After the inauguration ceremony in the grand auditorium—where the principal's lengthy speech had droned on, a monotonous hum that tested my patience—I hurried down the corridor, desperate to escape the stifling formalities. My footsteps echoed sharply on the polished linoleum, a rhythmic tap that matched the restless beat of my heart. The hallway stretched before me, lined with tall windows that let in streams of dappled sunlight, painting the floor with shifting patterns of light and shadow. The air carried the faint scent of polished wood and fresh paint, a reminder of the newness of this place, this life.
I sensed someone matching my pace behind me, their presence a quiet pressure at my back. "Hey, wasn't the principal's speech a bit too long?" Dev's voice called softly, unhurried and warm, like a melody slipping through the morning quiet.
I picked up my pace, my sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor. "Don't talk to me," I said, the words sharp, a reflex to keep him at bay.
He kept up effortlessly, his footsteps silent, as if he moved with the grace of a shadow. "There's no one else around," he countered, his tone light, teasing, as if my resistance was a game he enjoyed playing.
"That doesn't mean you have to," I snapped, immediately regretting the harsh edge as heat flushed my cheeks, betraying my composure. Why did he have this effect on me? Why did his voice, his nearness, stir a storm I'd fought so hard to quiet?
He chuckled—a low, amused sound that danced through the air, warm and infuriatingly pleasant. "Seriously, you were dozing off the whole time."
I spun around, indignation flaring like a spark in my chest. "I was listening!" I protested, my voice rising as I faced him, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
Dev leaned casually against a row of lockers, their metallic sheen catching the sunlight, framing him in a soft glow. He folded his arms across his chest, his posture relaxed yet deliberate, and studied me with curious dark eyes that seemed to see straight through my defenses. "Sure you were. But I noticed something else." His gaze softened, lingering on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "New contacts? A fresh haircut? Glow-up underway, is it?"
I crossed my arms defensively, a shield against the flutter in my chest, the way his words stirred a warmth I didn't want to feel. "So what if it is?" I retorted, my voice steadier than I felt, though my heart pounded like a drumbeat I couldn't ignore.
He smiled then—an open, genuine curve of his lips that lit up his face, softening the sharp edges of his features. "You look great, Nisha." The sincerity in his tone was a quiet shock, a gentle wave that threatened to sweep away my carefully built walls.
My heart pounded, a traitor to my resolve. "Don't tease me," I said, my voice quieter now, tinged with a vulnerability I hated showing.
"I'm not teasing." His voice softened further, each word a delicate thread meant only for me, wrapping around my heart. "Then what?"
He hesitated, his gaze surprisingly warm, searching mine as if looking for something he'd lost. "Was all this… because I rejected you?"
Time seemed to slow, the hallway fading to a blur as his words hung between us, heavy with the weight of our shared past. My mind flashed back to that awkward afternoon months ago, the sting of his casual dismissal, the way he'd walked away without looking back, leaving my heart in pieces. I parted my lips to explain, to deny, to deflect—but the words tangled on my tongue, caught in the raw ache of memory.
"Aha," he said, as if he'd read my thoughts, his voice light but laced with a quiet understanding. "I hit the nail on the head. You wanted a fresh start—someone new."
I pressed my hands to my temples again, exasperated, a spark of regret flickering at the edges of my guilt. This is the worst first day ever, I thought, yet I couldn't stop the reluctant smile tugging at my lips, a small surrender to the warmth in his gaze. It was infuriating, the way he could slip past my defenses, the way his presence felt both like a wound and a promise.
Dev watched me, his brow softening, his eyes holding a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten. "Don't give up on yourself—or on me—just yet."
I halted in the dappled sunlight spilling through the hallway windows, the golden light catching the edges of my vision, warm and forgiving. I let out a slow breath, steadying the storm within. "Fine," I whispered, my voice barely audible, a fragile concession to the possibility of something new. "But I'm not making it easy."
His grin widened, eyes dancing with mischief, a spark of delight that lit up the space between us. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
And in that moment—amid the chaos of my worst day, the weight of the past, and the uncertainty of the future—the beginnings of something unexpected and promising took root, delicate as a petal caught in the breeze, yet strong enough to weather the storms ahead.