The campus gates came into view, and Aaradhya's breath caught just a little. It looked different now. They parked near the hostel entrance, a long line of students and parents already there, dragging suitcases and exchanging lists and room numbers like some kind of pre-semester ritual.
"Alright, soldier," Anushka grinned, hopping out of the car and stretching. "Time to face the closet of doom."
"I can manage—" Aaradhya began, but Ragini was already handing her the packed snacks with a wink. "And leave without seeing your room? What kind of aunt would I be?"
Kamlesh joined them last, directing Aaditya and Anushka with surprising authority. "You take the suitcases. Girls will handle the room setup. Let's not pretend we all don't know who'll fold the bedsheet properly."
"I fold perfectly fine," Aaditya grumbled, lifting two duffels over his shoulder like they weighed nothing.
"No one asked you," Anushka replied, already trotting ahead.
The room was on the second floor—small, functional, and already a little dusty from disuse. The sunlight filtered through iron bars on the window, and a lone ceiling fan spun overhead with a lazy groan.
They entered in a flurry of footsteps and commentary.
"Where's the broom?" Ragini asked.
"Oh no," Anushka said dramatically. "She's gone full mom-mode."
Within the hour, the room transformed—clean bedsheets with little blue flowers, books stacked neatly, clothes folded and hung, toiletries aligned like a miniature store shelf. The soft smell of lavender and turmeric from the snack packets lingered in the air.
"Looks less like a prison now," Anushka said, collapsing onto the bed.
Ragini smiled fondly and brushed Aaradhya's hair behind her ear. "Whenever you feel too alone, just come home. You don't need a reason."
Aaradhya nodded, her throat thick. She hugged Ragini tighter than she meant to.
They went to restaurant to have dinner.
The restaurant was cozy, lights dimmed just enough to make everything feel softer, warmer. They all sat around a wooden table near the window, flipping through laminated menus, pretending to be interested in the food while chatting nonstop.
Aaradhya was tracing the menu idly with her finger when she felt it.
The weight of a gaze.
She lifted her eyes slowly—and there he was.
At a table across the room.
Not alone. With a friend who was animatedly saying something, using big gestures.
But he wasn't listening.
The moment their eyes met, he glanced away sharply, almost guilty. Like he hadn't meant to be caught.
Aaradhya dropped her gaze back to her menu, heart thudding louder than necessary. But before she could steady herself, she felt it again—the burn of being watched.
Her fingers clenched the menu tighter.
Ignore it, ignore it, she told herself, but every time she looked down, her skin prickled with awareness.
It wasn't creepy.
It wasn't unwanted.
It was something else entirely—something that terrified her because it was warm.
As if his eyes weren't demanding attention but asking for it. Begging to be recognized.
And even though she didn't dare look again, some foolish part of her wanted to.
Her mind screamed No.
Her heart whispered Maybe.
That's when Aaditya's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, dragging her back to the table.
Aaditya: "It's still way too early for me to think about getting engaged or married."
She blinked, turning her head toward him, grateful for the distraction.
Kamlesh Uncle chuckled, picking up a breadstick.
Kamlesh: "We said we'd start looking, not that we'll finalize a girl in a month and get you married."
Ragini nodded sagely, her eyes twinkling.
Ragini: "Exactly. First the search. Then the shortlist. Then the interviews."
(laughing) "We're not in a hurry to kick you out yet."
Everyone laughed — even Aaditya, who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
But for some reason, the conversation left a strange echo in Aaradhya's chest.
Marriage. Engagements. Futures being decided casually over jokes and butter naan.
She forced herself to smile, to join in, but her heart was somewhere else.
Back across the room.
Back where those unfamiliar eyes had looked at her like they knew her.
Even if she didn't know him yet.
After a little more teasing and laughter, Aaradhya excused herself to go to the washroom.
She wasn't even sure if she really needed to go, or if she just needed a moment away — away from the stares, the warmth, the conversations about marriage that twisted something inside her chest.
The cool splash of water on her face helped.
Aaradhya took a deep breath, looked at herself in the mirror, and whispered, "Get a grip, dummy."
She smiled faintly at her reflection and turned to walk back toward her table.
Aaradhya walked back from the washroom, weaving through the tables. The restaurant buzzed with soft laughter, the clinking of glasses, conversations weaving into the dim air scented with spices and warmth.
As she passed by a table, something slipped from someone's hand — a parcel wrapped hastily in brown paper. Instinctively, Aaradhya bent down to pick it up, just as he did. Their hands brushed — a light, fleeting touch — but it sent a strange, familiar shiver up her spine.
She looked up — and found herself staring into his eyes.
Veer.
He took the parcel from her, murmuring a soft "Thank you." His voice was deep, almost hesitant, and for a second, neither of them moved. Then Aaradhya quickly straightened, ready to leave, needing to escape this odd fluttering in her chest.
But just as she turned — it struck her.
Like a puzzle piece falling into place.
That day. That place.
Her breath hitched. She paused mid-step and slowly turned back to look at him.
And he... he was already staring at her.
Not with confusion. Not with surprise.
But with something warmer. Older.
As if he had been waiting for her to remember.
And suddenly, the memories crashed over her —
The grand Royal Palace bathed in golden light,
The feeling of awe as she wandered upstairs alone,
The rush of fear when she heard the guard's footsteps behind her,
And then — him.
Pulling her into a quiet room, saving her without asking why,
The warmth of his hand on hers when her books fell,
The calm smile when he said, "I'm just a medical student."
The way he led her back, unseen, safe.
All this time, she had tucked that day away somewhere deep, thinking she would never see him again. Thinking maybe she had dreamt it.
But he was real.
He was right in front of her.
Aaradhya's heart pounded painfully against her ribs.
And Veer... he gave her the faintest, almost imperceptible smile — like a secret shared only between them.