The sun was barely up when the school gate buzzed open, letting in a quiet rush of uniformed students and murmured greetings. Winter was slipping into the city like a secret, biting at fingers and turning breath into fog. Among the regulars, one girl walked with hesitant steps, her scarf pulled higher than necessary, her gaze fixed firmly on the cold concrete.
Her name was Ahaana.
A transfer student-technically not new, but newly returned. She had studied in this school once, years ago, before everything changed. Now she was back in Class 12, Section B, in the final stretch before board exams.
She wasn't the kind who turned heads in hallways. She wasn't topped with badges or medals. Her name wasn't whispered with envy or awe. She was simply... there average, unremarkable, soft-spoken. And yet, strangely, everyone seemed to like her. Teachers spoke to her with uncommon warmth. Classmates offered her a seat before she asked. Even the usually judgmental girls spared her cruel glances.
Maybe it was because they knew.
The faint scar curling down the left side of her cheek-faded but unmistakable-told a story no one ever asked. She never brought it up either. She wore her hair longer on one side, wore scarves even indoors, and dabbed on foundation in the girls' washroom when no one was looking. She had learned how to exist quietly. Invisibility, she thought, was safer than being seen too clearly.
But invisibility had a cost.
No one ever really knew who Ahaana was -not even Ahaana herself.
She had just sat down at her desk when her best friend Simran slid into the chair beside her, phone already out, giggling over something stupid from Instagram reels. Ahaana smiled politely, pretending to laugh. Her real focus, though, was elsewhere-past the rows of classmates, beyond the open windows that faced the far wing of the school building.
Her eyes drifted... to Section C.
She didn't know his name.
Not yet.
Just that he was tall, slender, and moved like he was part of some invisible rhythm the rest of the school hadn't heard yet.
He wasn't the loudest. He wasn't even the captain or anything special. But there was something in the way he leaned against the railing during break, hands in pockets, head tilted like he wasn't listening to anyone. His presence pulled her in. His indifference made her wonder.
It was that day, the third Monday of winter term, that she saw him clearly for the first time. Her heart, already a fragile thing, betrayed her with a sharp flutter. She would later laugh at how silly it was. But right then, in that small stolen moment, she fell for a boy she hadn't even spoken to. A boy who didn't even know she existed.
She blinked.
Simran nudged her.
Looking at Section C again?" she whispered, a smirk curling her lips.
Ahaana looked away quickly, pretending to read her textbook.
"You're hopeless," Simran grinned, flipping open her own book, "but kind of adorable."
Maybe. But Ahaana didn't feel adorable.
She felt invisible.
And she had a secret she wasn't ready to admit to anyone-not even herself.