The college halls pulsed with first-day chaos — laughter, nervous chatter, the rustling of dreams freshly unpacked.
Hiya moved quietly through it all, her eyes wide with wonder.
And then — she found herself walking beside Dev.
Or rather, a few steps behind him.
He hadn't spoken since they stepped out of the car.
And she didn't know if his silence was coldness… or care wearing a mask.
She clutched the strap of her new bag — the one gifted in silence — and whispered to herself:
"I'll say thank you later."
Dev led her through the corridors like a shadow that knew the path.
He stopped only near the administrative office.
A banner above read: "Welcome, Freshers."
He pointed toward the forming line.
"This is your block," he said. "I'll be in the research wing. Don't get lost."
Hiya nodded.
Then — heart fluttering — she dared to look up.
His jaw was set. Eyes unreadable.
But… just before he turned, she saw it — a flicker of something soft.
There.
And gone.
"Dev," she called out, not even sure why.
He stopped.
Didn't turn.
"I'll do good," she said. "You'll see."
A beat passed.
He gave the slightest nod — so gentle it might've been mistaken for a breeze.
Inside the classroom, Hiya sat near the window.
Her notebook trembled under her fingers.
Everything was unfamiliar, but she had always been good at blooming where she was planted.
A few girls smiled at her.
One offered candy. Another admired her earrings.
Hiya responded with gentle laughter, soft questions — enough to start weaving the first threads of friendship.
Outside, across the lawn, Dev stood near the science wing balcony.
He didn't know why he'd come to check.
But he did.
He watched her — framed by sunlight and window glass.
Still. Small. Brave.
Maybe it was Baba's voice that brought him here again:
"Protect her, Dev. She's not just our guest. She's the daughter of your father's best friend. Her smile… will remind you of everything sacred."
But maybe — it wasn't just that.
She was pink and soft and stubbornly kind.
She wore hope like a ribbon, and without knowing, it pulled at him.
Later that day, they crossed paths in the old library corridor.
Dev was there for research papers.
Hiya — chasing a rumor about old poetry books — took the wrong turn, and nearly collided with him.
"Sorry!" she gasped, catching her balance against the old wooden shelf.
"Look where you're going," Dev snapped.
Too fast. Too sharp.
Like habit, not hate.
Hiya blinked. Then grinned.
"Did you know this library smells like wet ink and secrets?"
Dev froze — caught off guard.
"I think I'll love it here," she added.
And with that, she skipped past him, her dress whispering against the floor.
He didn't reply.
Didn't follow.
But something in him turned.
Just slightly.
And watched her — until she disappeared behind the poetry section.
And the thread between them pulled tighter — unnoticed, but real.
Not a rope. Not a chain.
Just a soft, silken line… drawn gently by time and something unnamed.