03.

Delhi

9:00 AM

St. Xavier’s Institute of Arts and Business

Aakriti stood outside the main gate of St. Xavier’s College. In her hand was an old canvas bag—stuffed with a few books and a small diary, where she’d written memories of her late mother.

It was her first day of college, but there wasn’t even a hint of excitement in her heart. The only thought haunting her was—“Will people here treat me the same way they do at home?”

There was no strict dress code in the college. Students wore whatever they felt comfortable in. Today, she had chosen a plain white kurta paired with light blue jeans—clothes her aunt had handed over with a taunt.

"This is all that’s left... make do with this for college," her aunt had said.

As she stepped inside the building, a strange feeling settled in her chest. Long corridors, students laughing and chatting in groups—it was all new, all distant.

Her classroom was on the second floor. She quietly checked the notice board for her section number and headed straight to her room. With each step, her confidence shrank a little, but her eyes still carried a glimmer of hope—could this be a new chapter of her life?

Classroom – First Lecture

When she entered the classroom, half the seats were already taken. Everyone was talking to each other in groups, clearly comfortable and familiar. She picked a quiet corner seat—away from the crowd—and opened her diary, hoping it would shield her from attention.

The lecturer arrived, and the class began. For the next two hours, she took notes without saying a word. Nobody spoke to her, and she didn’t try to make eye contact either. She seemed different—fragile, quiet, broken in ways words couldn’t describe.

Then came break time…

Footsteps echoed in the hallway—sharp heels clicking, an overwhelming perfume filling the air, and laughter laced with arrogance.

Riya.

Dressed in designer wear, flaunting high-end accessories, she walked into the class like a fashion icon. Instantly, people swarmed around her.

“Hey Riya!”

“You look fab today!”

Two of her best friends walked in behind her, and all three of them locked eyes on Aakriti.

There wasn’t exactly hatred in Riya’s eyes—it was disdain. As if Aakriti’s very existence insulted her presence.

"Oh my God... look who’s here," Riya called out, loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Aakriti looked up, expressionless. She said nothing.

Walking up to her with a smirk, Riya said,

“This is the same so-called cousin of mine. Her parents died, and out of pity, my Mom and Dad brought her into our house.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Confusion spread across faces, while a few students exchanged subtle giggles.

Pointing at Aakriti’s clothes, Riya continued,

“Look at what she’s wearing! So cheap—must’ve picked them off the roadside. And that bag… does she even look like she belongs in this college?”

Aakriti closed her diary gently, her eyes cast down. Every word felt like a stab to her chest.

Riya raised her voice,

“You know what? My dad always says—‘Poor people get the most privileges.’ Her admission? That’s our doing too. She’s nothing but a charity case.”

Tears welled up in Aakriti’s eyes. She didn’t respond—she simply closed her eyes and sat still.

The whole class began to distance themselves. Some even moved away from her bench. She was alone now.

Then… a soft breeze entered the room.

A new girl walked into the class—dressed in a light pink top and skinny jeans, with cute earrings and a warm, radiant smile.

Ahana Singhania.

There was something magical in her eyes—free from judgment, full of kindness.

She glanced at Aakriti—just once—and understood everything.

Without saying a word, she walked over and sat beside her.

“Hi, I’m Ahana,” she said with a gentle smile.

Aakriti looked up—startled and unsure.

“You can sit here…” Aakriti whispered.

Ahana giggled, “This is the only seat I like.”

She placed her bag down and picked up Aakriti’s diary.

“You write? You have beautiful handwriting.”

Aakriti blushed faintly and said nothing.

Ahana noticed the tears in her eyes. She didn’t ask questions. Instead, she quietly placed a tissue in her hand.

“You’re really strong, Aakriti,” she said softly.

“And as long as I’m here… you’ll never be alone.”

Aakriti nodded. For the first time, she felt safe—with a stranger.

And then… a name echoed through the room.

From the hallway, someone shouted,

“Ahana! Your brother is here to pick you up. Hurry!”

Ahana sighed, picked up her bag.

“I have to go… but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?

Oh, and don’t be scared of Riya. Her strength ends at her words.”

Aakriti watched her leave, her heart softly whispering a name—Ahana… what a beautiful name.

She didn’t know yet that Ahana was the sister of a man who had everything in life—except a heart.

Arnav Singhania.

~

To Be Continued…