TUM HI HO

Hi everyone, firstly I want to tell you that this is my very first book, so please be a little kind, I'm learning as I go. 💛

It's been almost an year since I started writing and finally I'm sharing it with y'all.

I hope you'll love it and support me.

So, let's get started.

With that... officially signed in. No turning back now.

The morning sun slipped through the curtains of the Rathore house, but the calm didn’t last long.

Sitara stood in front of her mirror, fighting a stray lock of hair with one hand while holding a silver jhumka in the other. Second semester started today, and she was already behind schedule.

“Tara! Nashta thanda ho raha hai, jaldi niche aa!” her mother’s voice floated up the stairs.

She grabbed her bag and half-ran down the steps. Dadi sat at the table, calm as ever, sipping her tea. Her father, Vihan Rathore, was reading the newspaper, and looked up as she rushed in.

“Itni jaldi mein? Baith kar khana kha lo, beta,” he said.

“Papa, late ho jaungi,” Sitara said, already reaching for a piece of toast.

Her mother, Ishita, placed a tiffin box in her hands without a word — the kind of look on her face that ended the discussion before it started. Advik, her brother, didn’t even glance up from his phone.

“Good morning, Dadi!” Sitara chirped, dropping a quick side-hug on her grandmother before darting for the door.

Advik smirked without looking up. “Itni taiyari? Padhne ja rahi hai ya fashion show mein?”

“Tu chup kar, Avi.” She stuck her tongue out and was gone before her mother could call her back for a proper breakfast.

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The campus had the same restless buzz it always carried at the start of a new semester — friends catching up after the break, seniors comparing timetables, someone already complaining about a 9 a.m. class. Sitara walked through it with her phone in her hand, trying to make sense of a room number that didn’t match anything on the board.

She didn’t see him until it was too late.

The collision knocked the breath clean out of her. Her bag went one way, her phone went the other, and for one horrifying second she was fairly sure she was about to become a viral video titled Girl Falls On First Day, Campus Cries Laughing. Then a hand closed around her arm — steady, absurdly steady — and hauled her back onto her feet like it cost him nothing.

Her brain, unhelpfully, chose that exact moment to stop working.

“Dhyan kahan hai aapka?”

The voice was deep and unbothered, like he asked people this all the time and had genuinely never once received a satisfying answer. Sitara looked up, and every sentence she owned in two languages evaporated at once.

Okay. Okay, wow. Sharp jaw, sleeves rolled up like he had somewhere important to be, and eyes currently looking at her the way you’d look at a math problem that had shown up uninvited to your morning. It was frankly rude of him to be that good-looking while also being annoyed with her. She was already drafting the retelling for Saanjh and Miraya — and then he just LOOKED at me, guys — before he’d even let go of her arm, which, she noted with some alarm, he still hadn’t done.

“Sorry — woh, main thoda jaldi mein thi,” she managed, her voice climbing an octave she didn’t authorize.

She should probably say something else. Something normal. Something that wasn’t just her standing there blinking at him like he’d personally rearranged her whole schedule.

He let go of her arm, gave one short nod, and walked off without a backward glance — leaving her holding a phone which now has a spider crack on it and absolutely no dignity.

Sitara stood there while students moved around her like she was a rock in a river, still catching up with her own pulse.

Kaun tha yeh? Senior? New student? She hoped, fervently, that he was a senior. At least then she’d be allowed to think about him without feeling weird about it.

Saanjh and Miraya were already in their usual middle-row seats when Sitara rushed in.

“Tara! Yahan baith!” Miraya waved her over, glancing at her flushed cheeks. “Subah se hi bhagna shuru kar diya na tune.”

“Late as usual,” Saanjh said, not even looking up as she cleared the seat beside her.

Sitara dropped into the chair, still catching her breath. “Tumhe pata hai abhi kya hua? Main ek ladke se takrai — Saanjh, he was so good-looking. Like, unfairly good-looking.”

Saanjh raised an eyebrow. “Campus mein naye log kam hi hote hain. Ya toh senior hoga, ya problem.”

“I don’t care which. I’ll happily take the problem,” Sitara said, fanning herself with her notebook.

Before Saanjh could say anything else, the door creaked open and the room fell quiet the way a room does when someone walks in expecting it to.

Sitara’s stomach dropped.

He didn’t look like a lost student anymore. He walked in like he owned the room — leather bag, calm steps, the same unreadable expression from the corridor, now aimed at the whole class instead of just her. He didn’t glance her way once, as if the corridor had never happened at all.

“Good morning, everyone.” He set his bag down. “I’m Reyansh Sharma. I’ll be taking your Data Structures this semester.”

Sitara sank low in her chair, nearly disappearing behind Saanjh’s shoulder.

The good-looking guy was the professor. The good-looking guy was the PROFESSOR.

Beside her, Miraya’s fingers found the small Krishn pendant she always wore, a quiet habit whenever she needed a moment to settle.

“I don’t like latecomers, and I value discipline,” Reyansh continued, writing his name on the board in handwriting so neat it looked printed. “Let’s begin with introductions — your name, and why you chose B.Tech.”

Beside her, Saanjh’s eyes stayed on the board a moment too long. Something about how neat those letters were made her jaw tighten, though she couldn’t have said why if you asked her.

The class passed in a blur of names and short answers. The second the bell rang and Reyansh walked out, Saanjh spun around, grinning.

“Suno, Sitara... yeh wahi ‘hot guy’ tha na jisse tum takrai thi?”

“Hatt! Chup kar.” Sitara’s face had gone the exact color of Saanjh’s dupatta.

“Crush vush ho gaya kya?”

“Ho hi nahi sakta, samjhi?” Sitara pressed both hands to her cheeks. “I had exactly one thought when I saw him, and that thought is officially over. It’s like — eww. A professor, Saanjh. My professor. I’d rather fall in a manhole.”

“Tumhare expressions dekh kar toh aisa nahi lag raha,” Saanjh said, holding back a laugh, and even Miraya pressed her lips together to hide a smile.

They reached the canteen an hour later, worn out after Gupta ma’am had filled half the blackboard before anyone could even sit down properly.

“Kya din tha yaar,” Miraya sighed, settling into their usual corner table. “Syllabus dekh kar hi darr lag raha hai.”

“Wahi toh,” Sitara groaned, dropping her head on the table. “Ek toh intro khatam nahi hote, aur Gupta ma’am ne padhana bhi shuru kar diya.”

Saanjh’s eyes drifted toward the faculty section, where Reyansh Sharma sat with two other professors, a small steel lunchbox open in front of him. He had no idea he’d already ruined one girl’s morning and mildly annoyed another one’s afternoon.

“Look who’s here again,” she muttered.

Sitara didn’t lift her head. “Mujhe nahi dekhna. Mere liye woh sirf ek Data Structures ki textbook hain.”

Saanjh looked a beat longer than the joke needed, caught herself, frowned, and turned back to her coffee.

By evening, the three of them walked to the auto-stand, tired in the easy way that comes with the first day back.

“Bye guys! Kal milte hain!” Miraya called, already halfway down the road.

Sitara climbed into her auto and let out a long breath.

“Naya semester,” she muttered to herself, smiling despite the day she’d had, “naya drama.”

AN—

First chapter, still setting the stage—but I promise the choas properly kicks off soon. Comment your first impressions, I want to know everything!