Outside the college's closed gate, the May morning buzzed with restless energy. A sea of students in casual attires stretched across the road - some clutching admit cards, others chatting nervously, their voices blending into a single hum of anxiety and excitement.

In one corner, Ira stood quietly - a small island of calm amid the chaos. A rolled admit card was clenched in one hand, a pen in the other, her gaze following the movement around her with detached patience.

She wore an olive-green kurti patterned with white prints, a pair of light-blue jeans, and a soft white stole that looped neatly around her neck. Her armpit-length hair was braided simply against her back, the loose strands brushing lightly against her face whenever a breeze passed.

From the road nearby came the sharp symphony of honks and loud beeps. A few men, sweating beneath the sun, steered their bikes through the dense crowd, their wives perched behind them in vibrant sarees and glittering jewellery that caught the light like scattered glass.

These women have come to attend exams or for fashion shows?

Rolling her eyes inwardly, Ira turned her head the other way. Her shoulders drooped slightly, as she exhaled a tired breath that dissolved into the noise around her.

Where is Navya? This girl is going to get us both late.

She pivoted toward the stationary shop behind her, scanning for a clock among the cluttered display of pens and notebooks hanging from strings.

Fifteen minutes left.

"Ira!"

Ira's eyes widened as she turned toward the familiar voice, her face brightening instantly. She lifted a hand, waving high before weaving through the crowd toward the sound, her steps quick and eager.

"Where were you?" she whispered as she reached her friend, a hint of irritation buried beneath relief.

Navya appeared slightly flushed, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. She was dressed in a simple pink salwar suit, her pink dupatta hanging loosely over one shoulder, swaying with her hurried movements. Without warning, she clamped her fingers around Ira's wrist, tugging her forward so fast that Ira nearly stumbled onto the road. "C'mon, first take the entry!"

"Oh my-girl, calm down." Ira steadied herself, brushing back a few loose strands from her face. Her eyes darted toward the entrance, where a throng of students pushed and jostled like ants around a piece of jaggery. "Let them get inside first. We need to find our assigned classrooms and bench numbers first."

She made her way toward the college boundary, where sheets of paper fluttered slightly against the notice board. A cluster of students leaned close, their fingers tracing lines of names and roll numbers in frustration.

Navya trailed after her, puffing lightly, her nose wrinkled and lips pushed into a pout.

Ira turned around, forehead still furrowed. "Yours is 17, mine's 15."

"And bench number?" Navya squinted, shielding her eyes with her hand as a harsh beam of sunlight hit her directly.

Ira mimicked her squint, her lips quivering slightly. "That we'll find outside the room."

Navya nodded quickly, brushing her dupatta aside with a flick. "Okay, done. Come."

The two girls melted back into the crowd, their voices swallowed by the steady rhythm of chatter, footsteps, and the dull hum of another exam day in full swing.

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"Hehehe-oh my god!" Navya burst into laughter as they climbed the marbled stairs, the polished surface smooth and cold beneath their footwear. "I didn't expect the teacher to just ask and let go."

Ira's fingers tightened around Navya's upper arm, pulling her closer with a sharp tug. Her eyes darted around the corridor, scanning for invigilators. "Do you want to die?" she hissed under her breath. "Who brings phones to college during exams?"

Navya blinked at her, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "Everyone does," she said, widening her eyes. "Otherwise, how do you expect us to pass when the professors don't even show their faces at college? I don't even know who my Botany professor is. Do you?" She pointed at Ira, struggling to hold back her giggles.

Ira stopped mid-step, blinking, and shook her head.

"Girls!"

Their eyes widened, and the color drained from their faces. Slowly, they turned, awkward smiles faltering on their lips.

"Y-yes, ma'am?"

The woman standing a few steps above them carried an aura of quiet authority. She was dressed in a simple light brown saree, the pleats crisp and perfectly aligned. Her hair was neatly tied in a low bun, and a leather watch hugged her left wrist. Adjusting the rim of her glasses with a composed gesture, she regarded the two girls with patient curiosity. "Room number?" she asked, her voice calm yet firm.

"Seventeen," Navya replied instantly, her tone a pitch higher than usual.

"Fifteen," Ira followed, her voice quieter, almost cautious.

"Hmm." The professor nodded, her gaze moving from one to the other before clasping her hands behind her back. She tilted her head slightly, eyes steady but kind. "Seventeen, that row; fifteen, this row."

Both girls bowed slightly in unison, their voices overlapping in a hurried, "Thank you, ma'am," before rushing off in opposite directions.

Navya's dupatta fluttered behind her as she half-jogged toward her room, while Ira adjusted her stole, taking a steadying breath before disappearing down the other corridor, her heartbeat still racing from the near catch.

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"You have such a beautiful pair of eyes," said the boy in olive jeans and a half-sleeve white T-shirt, his wheatish skin catching the filtered sunlight sneaking in through the window. His black curly hair looked slightly damp, and his lazy grin stretched wider as he lounged on the first bench - legs sprawled across it, back resting carelessly against the wall.

"Oh, Kanishk, you're too much!" the girl beside him on the second bench squealed, hiding her face behind her palms - half embarrassed, half delighted.

"What? I'm telling the truth!" Kanishk laughed, his voice echoing faintly in the high-ceilinged classroom. Leaning forward, he caught her wrists gently, prying her hands away from her face. He held them in his, tracing slow circles on the back of her palms with his thumb.

"See? Such soft skin... smooth like butter, delicate like rose petals," he murmured, dropping his tone to a teasing husk. Then, after a long pause, he added, "Even bitter gourd would taste like sugarcane if you cooked it with these hands."

He shut his eyes tight, pressing his lips together as though struck by poetic tragedy. "You-you're just too perfect. Trust me, I'd write songs for you if I knew how to sing."

"Oh my god, Kanishk!" The girl's face lit up like a Diwali sparkler. She flapped her hands excitedly, as if she'd just heard the best confession of her life. "You're such a sweetheart!" she gushed, leaning in to pinch his cheeks. "So cute!"

"Excuse me, remove your legs."

The neutral, soft voice - calm yet unintentionally sharp - cut through their laughter. Both of them froze mid-motion, heads snapping toward the source.

Kanishk's eyes widened, eyebrows leaping up, mouth slightly agape. He instantly brushed the girls hands away and sprang to his feet. "Oh my Ice Queen!" he blurted, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

The students nearby chuckled under their breath, exchanging amused glances. A few leaned forward, eager to watch the scene unfold. The girl beside Kanishk twisted her smile into a pout, her kajal-lined eyes narrowing at the new arrival.

Ira stared at Kanishk, dumbfounded. The extra attention from her classmates only added to her discomfort. Awkwardly, smoothing her dress, she slid a little down the bench - back straightened, expression neutral, hands resting on the desk as she fiddled with the pen tip.

"Hey!" Kanishk slid closer to her, the fabric of his jeans scraping against the wooden bench. "Didn't you recognize me?"

Ira gave him a brief glance before turning her focus back to the empty space ahead.

Kanishk's face scrunched. "You seriously didn't recognize me?"

No response.

Sighing, he muttered an "Okay," and leaned a little closer, peeking at her admit card.

"Ira... Kash...yap," he read aloud, drawing out each syllable like it was sacred poetry. His grin returned, wide and shameless. "Ira Kashyap! What a beautiful name you have, Ice Queen!"

Ira's jaw tightened as she turned to him, her voice firm but quiet. "Can you please stay silent? You're very loud."

Kanishk squinted at her, his lips jutting out as he tilted his head. "Why is it that whenever you speak, I feel like you'll pass out the very next moment?" he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. "Why do you carry the weight of the whole world? Take a chill pill, my lady."

"Who's she to you, Kanishk?" the girl beside him whispered sharply, leaning forward with suspicion in her eyes.

Kanishk shot her a mischievous side-glance before turning back to Ira, grin widening into pure mischief. "She's the aunt of my niece or nephew."

"What?!" the girl nearly shrieked, eyes bulging.

"Two slaps and you'll be spitting teeth!" Ira hissed, her fists clenched on the desk. "What nonsense are you talking about?!"

Kanishk chuckled, making Ira even more furious. "Calm down, calm down, Lady Bheem. Calm dow-" He broke into another fit of laughter, eyes closed, hands clutching his stomach.

Ira's face had reddened by now, chest heaving as she turned around, pen clenched tightly in her fist, knuckles turning white.

"Such a red chilli she is," the girl whispered with her eyes narrowed, earning another stifled snort from Kanishk.

He quickly placed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet, then leaned forward again, still grinning. "Hey-"

"-Dare to come closer, and I'll shove this pen down your throat," Ira snapped, her tone icy, the pen tip pointing directly at him.

Kanishk froze, hands shooting up in surrender. He coughed lightly, trying to hide his laughter. "Okay, okay, I surrender. No violence. But I wasn't lying. Swear on you-"

"What the hell? You want me to die?" Ira shot back, glaring at him.

Kanishk blinked, startled by her intensity, and shook his head so fast his curls bounced. "No, no, no! Your sister-Jheel bhabhi-is pregnant."

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In the living room, the air was thick with tension. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in faint afternoon light, dust specks floating in its beam. The slow ticking of the wall clock filled the pauses between breaths.

Aanand, dressed in a white kurta and pyjamas, sat on the sofa with an open letter trembling slightly between his hands. His lips were pressed tight, forehead creased, shoulders hunched, and eyes blank behind the dull reflection of his glasses.

Opposite him sat Siddharth, in black pants and a crisp white shirt, the fabric slightly wrinkled as if he'd been sitting there for hours. His posture mirrored Aanand's, though his elbows rested on his thighs, hands clasped loosely between his parted knees. His eyes, steady and unreadable, were fixed on the black leather file resting on the table between them.

Beside them stood Anusuiya in a red saree, her pallu tucked carelessly at her waist, her bangles still and quiet against her wrist. Her face carried an expression of restrained fury, mirrored perfectly by the young man beside her - Vardhaman, in his white night pyjamas, his arms folded, eyes burning with silent defiance.

"I will not live in a hostel," Vardhaman said, his voice slicing through the suffocating silence.

Both Aanand and Siddharth lifted their eyes, their gazes locking with the younger one's, unblinking.

Vardhaman's face twisted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, glancing from one stern face to the other. "They bully there so much! I will not live in a hostel," he repeated, fists clenched by his sides, tone trembling between fear and rebellion.

Aanand's gaze, still hard on his son, shifted to his wife - who stood with her head lowered, jaw clenched, and eyebrows deeply knitted. "Do you also have something to say?" His deep voice seemed to vibrate through the silence that followed.

Anusuiya's lips twisted to one side, teeth gritted beneath her closed mouth as she lifted her eyes to meet her husband's. "I will not come with you," she said dryly.

Aanand exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a controlled rhythm as he leaned back on the sofa and set the letter aside on the table. "Do you know, Anusuiya, where I've been transferred to?" he asked calmly.

"Doesn't matter," Anusuiya replied flatly. "My sons are here. I will not go anywhere with you."

Aanand's lips pressed together, the faint twitch at their corner betraying his restraint. His eyebrows rose slowly.
"Patna," he said flatly, side-glancing at her.

Anusuiya's eyes widened. The toughness in her face cracked for a fleeting moment, and she stepped forward, the sound of her anklet barely audible. "Patna?!"

"Yes." Aanand nodded once, smiling with pressed lips.

Anusuiya blinked, and her expression once again curdled, chin lifting defiantly. "No."

"Hmm?"

"My children are here. I will live with them. You can go wherever you have to."

Aanand's fingers flexed against his thigh. "And where will you live?"

"You're my husband. Buy us a house here."

A humorless chuckle escaped him as he straightened. "I'm just a High Court judge, not Mukesh Ambani."

Anusuiya's eyes flashed. She waved a dismissive hand through the air, her bangles clinking sharply. "Doesn't matter! We're your responsibility. Buy us a place and go live in your government bungalow with all the facilities!"

Aanand's jaw tightened as he pushed himself up from the sofa, the sudden scrape of his feet against the floor echoing. His height towered over her as he took a step forward, voice rising. "Who's more important to you - me or your sons?!"

Anusuiya stepped closer until they were almost toe-to-toe, her chin lifted, eyes unwavering. "My sons."

The sound of a deep sigh filled the room, cutting through the couples' silent glaring contest and their heavy breathing.

Siddharth shifted his weight forward, the soft thud of his shoe against the floor breaking the stillness. His lips were pressed tightly, his head slightly lowered, and his hands slipped deeper into his pockets. "Sir, Aunty," he said quietly.

Aanand's sharp glare lingered on his wife a little longer before he exhaled and turned toward Siddharth. His expression softened just enough to let composure slip back into place. "Yes, beta?"

Siddharth's eyes flicked from the crumpled figure of Vardhaman - arms crossed, lips jutting out in silent protest - to Anusuiya, whose jaw trembled beneath the weight of her anger. Then his gaze returned to the judge, steady but respectful.

"Sir, if you don't mind, Vardhaman can live with me. I already live alone. With him, I'll have some company too. I assure you of his safety, health, and behavior." He blinked once, inhaling slowly. "And since Rudraksh isn't going to arrive anytime soon... I can take care of Vardhaman like my younger brother."

Anusuiya's lips parted, her eyes slightly widening as they darted between the two men. "But, beta-"

"I'm ready! I'm ready!" Vardhaman blurted out before she could finish. He bounced forward with uncontained energy and threw an arm around Siddharth's shoulder, pulling him close and forcing him to lean to one side. A grin spread wide across his face as he hugged him tightly in a half-embrace. "I will live with Siddharth bhaiya till Rudraksh bhaiya comes back!"

A faint chuckle escaped Siddharth as a warm smile softened his face. The dimple on his left cheek deepened as he wrapped an arm around Vardhaman's back, patting his shoulder in an affectionate rhythm.

"But how will you manage, beta?" Anusuiya's voice wavered between concern and disbelief. "He's very naughty and won't bring any help. You'll get more troubled."

"Mom!" Vardhaman groaned, scrunching his nose and turning to her with exaggerated offense. "I can do dishes and mop the floor!"

Siddharth blinked, amusement tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms loosely, eyebrows raised.

Vardhaman shifted his gaze back to him, eyes gleaming with the earnest pride of a child trying to prove his worth. "Bhaiya, I can even cut vegetables, boil water, make tea, and cook rice. I can do many more things."

Siddharth let out a quiet laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly, the corners of his mouth curving as if he were watching a scene far too innocent for the tension that had filled the room moments ago.

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"In February?" Ira's eyes widened as she descended the stairs, her fingers brushing the cold railing worn smooth by years of restless students. The corridor buzzed with chatter - footsteps, laughter, the rustle of papers clutched nervously before the exam.

"Last February." Kanishk walked beside her, his question paper rolled tight with the admit card in one hand, the other swinging lazily as if time itself had no urgency for him.

"Too fast." Her eyes were still wide as she shifted her shoulder to let a group of boys pass, their perfume and murmurs cutting through the air. "Marriage on 4th and good news on-what-20th?" She tilted her head toward him, one eyebrow arched, eyes narrowing.

Kanishk mirrored her expression with an exaggerated squint. "Are you judging your sister for that, Ice Queen?"

"Stop calling me that." Ira flicked her hand in irritation, the edge of her question paper thudding lightly against her thigh. "I've a name."

Kanishk only shrugged, a teasing curve on his lips. "But I like you calling this way."

Scrunching her nose, she muttered a dry, "Whatever," and quickened her pace toward the exit, the afternoon sun spilling across the open blue sky and catching in her hair as she walked away.

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Outside the entrance gate, the crowd spilled out like a restless wave - loud murmurs crashing against bursts of reckless laughter, vehicles honking in irritation as students crossed the road without looking. The air smelled of burning petrol and diesel, mixing with the faint aroma of Chaat and Panipuri from a nearby stall.

From the lively chaos emerged Navya - her face deeply furrowed, forehead shining with tiny beads of sweat that glistened under the noon sun. Strands of hair clung stubbornly to her cheeks as she kept wiping her face with the edge of her pink dupatta, leaving faint damp patches on the fabric. As she lifted her chin high, an enthusiastic smile bloomed across her tired face, lighting it up like a sudden spark.

"Ira!" she called out, waving one hand while clutching the admit card, pen, and question paper with the other. Her sandals slapped the pavement as she jogged toward her friend, chest heaving, lips parted, exhaling and inhaling sharply.

Ira reached out, placing a gentle hand on her back, rubbing it up and down in small circles. "You okay?" she asked softly, blinking through the afternoon glare, her head tilting slightly as she observed Navya's flushed, panting face. "Everything went fine?"

Navya nodded quickly, still catching her breath, pressing her palm against her chest as she straightened up. "Yep!" she exhaled between gasps. "The invigilator made us all submit our phones or any cheats before the officer came to check in."

"You brought a phone in the exam hall?" Kanishk's voice cut in, playful, his lips pressed together in a knowing smile. He stood with his hands tucked in his pockets, watching them with that familiar teasing glint.

Ira turned her head toward him, eyes narrowing. "Don't talk like you're a saint either? I saw you were searching questions on Google. Be glad the officer didn't come to our class."

"Hey, I told you the answers as well," Kanishk protested, eyebrows furrowing in mock offense.

"Of two marks," Ira shot back immediately, her face scrunching. "I told you of five marks." She raised her hand right in front of his face, fingers splayed. "I still hold the upper hand."

Kanishk leaned in a little, lowering his voice, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't mind you holding the upper hand, my Ice Queen." He winked, his tone lazy and deliberate.

Ira instinctively tilted her head back, her eyebrows knitting together while one corner of her lips curled up. A mixture of annoyance and reluctant amusement flickered across her face before she looked away, blinking rapidly.

"Who is he?" Navya asked, her face scrunched as suspicion knitted her eyebrows together. Her gaze darted between the two standing before her, looking like oil and water.

Before Ira could reply, Kanishk stepped forward with theatrical ease, one hand pressed near his chest while the other disappeared neatly behind his back. His expression softened into sincerity as he announced, "Kanishk, future husband of my Ice Que-"

A sharp thwack landed on his head before his sentence could fully settle in the air. He lurched forward, eyes widening, a small gasp escaping as he rubbed the sore spot, trying to regain his composure.

"You really don't love your life, do you?" Ira's glare was razor-sharp, her lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line. The faint wind tugged a loose strand of hair across her cheek, which only made her look fiercer.

"Ha!" Navya snorted, stepping closer and patting Kanishk's head with false sympathy. She bent slightly to meet his hunched frame and cooed in an overly sweet tone, "She's taken, kiddo. Try somewhere else."

Another smack rang through the air. Navya yelped softly, stumbling forward as her dupatta slipped off one shoulder.

Kanishk, barely able to contain himself, burst into laughter - his shoulders shaking, mouth wide, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I'll push you both into the nearby river if you continue with this nonsense of yours!" Ira jabbed a clenched fist toward both their faces, her movements sharp and precise. "Neither is anyone my future husband here," she glared at Kanishk, then, after a pause at Navya, "nor am I to be taken by some stranger without even his own or mine acknowledgement."

Both Kanishk and Navya immediately straightened, standing side by side like scolded schoolchildren. Their lower lips jutted out in perfect unison as they rubbed the back of their heads, avoiding her piercing gaze.

"He's my elder cousin sister's younger brother-in-law." Ira finally said, lifting her chin slightly toward Navya, while her eyes slid sideways toward Kanishk. "And she's my friend - Navya."

A brief silence hung between the three before Navya and Kanishk turned to look at each other, blinking at the same time. Their faces scrunched, eyes narrowed, as if trying to decode the tangled family connection she'd just thrown at them.

For a moment, neither looked away. The corners of their lips tugging upward in the faintest traces of rivalry disguised as amusement.

"Will you both eat Panipuri?"

The flat voice, drained of all emotion, made their heads turn toward her slowly. A faint breeze stirred the edge of Ira's dupatta, brushing against her arm while she stood with her hands folded loosely in front of her, expression unreadable.

For a moment, silence hung. Then, gentle, guilty smiles began to spread across their faces.

"Of course, Cutie pie!" Navya chirped, her tone instantly switching to her usual enthusiasm. She reached out and pulled Ira's cheek affectionately.

"Of course, my Ice Queen!" Kanishk echoed dramatically, mimicking Navya's gesture on the other side, his grin wide and unbothered.

Both froze the second Ira's sharp glared at them and shoved their hands away with a swift flick of her wrists, not harsh but firm enough.

Then, without another glance, she stepped forward between them. "Stop acting like creeps," she muttered just loud enough for them to hear, her words clipped, her head held high as the two troublemakers exchanged a quiet, guilty laugh behind her and followed.

A/N: It's been quite some time!

Anyway, I've been busy with editing and a few other things lately. I truly owe you all an apology for making you read such absolute crap and nonsense before. Don't worry-I'm used to harsh criticism, and honestly, it was crap. My nearly 20-hour-long novel suddenly dropped to 17 hours after I'd only finished editing half of it.

That's why I'm deeply grateful to everyone for your invaluable feedback, which has helped me refine my work so much.

And, my lord, we've got a polling system here. Wow! Let me try something, just for fun.