Chapter 1
Tanu
Tanu! Tanu! Get up now, it’s time to get ready!” My mom’s voice echoed from downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting up to my room.
It’s my first day of senior college, and I can barely contain my excitement. I love learning. Yes, I’m that girl—the one always buried in books, the one who’s curious about everything, the one who dreams of making her parents proud. I’ve always been this way. Ever since I could remember, my parents pushed me to do my best, but it wasn’t just about their expectations—it was my own drive to succeed. I want to make their sacrifices worth it.
It’s been eight years since we moved to California. I still remember the first day we arrived, how everything seemed so clean and polished, so different from Delhi. At first, I felt out of place—like I didn’t belong here. But slowly, this place became home. My dad, a software engineer, got the job at Google, and we packed our lives into four suitcases and flew across the world. California was everything we had imagined and more—fresh coffee in the air, endless possibilities, and ambition oozing out of every corner.
I quickly pull on my favorite jeans and a simple top, knowing I don’t need to overthink it for the first day. College is a big deal, but I’m still me—Tanu. Just a girl who’s excited to start a new chapter. I glance at the clock. My mom’s probably making breakfast by now, and I can’t afford to be late.
Rushing downstairs, I catch the smell of hot parathas and curry already filling the air. “Morning, Mom!” I smile, but I don’t stop to chat. I grab a plate, serving myself a little of everything. I’ve always been the kind of person who likes to have everything—bookish, ambitious, and yes, a bit of a perfectionist. But the one thing I never take for granted is my family.
We may be thousands of miles from India, but there’s warmth in our home that keeps me grounded.
As I sit down at the table, I glance around the kitchen—my mom humming in the corner, my dad busy with his laptop as usual. It’s crazy to think that just eight years ago, we were in Delhi, packing our lives into four suitcases. I was just a kid, confused, excited, and nervous all at once. But now, California has shaped me. It’s the place where I’ve grown, where I’ve learned to balance between two worlds.
Life here hasn’t been easy, though. I’ve faced my own share of challenges—being the ‘new girl’ at school, missing my friends back in India, the awkwardness of fitting in. But it wasn’t just about adapting to California. It was about finding my own space here.
And then there’sConrad, my neighbor.
He’s been in our lives for as long as I can remember. He’s a teacher, but not just any teacher—he’s the one I’ve always found intriguing. I’ve seen him through the years, walking around the neighborhood with that serious look on his face. Funny how, after all this time, I’ve never quite figured him out. There’s something about him... something that makes me feel both comfortable and on edge at the same time. He’s always been there—part of the backdrop of my life. But now, in college, I might be seeing him in a whole new light.
As I finish my breakfast, my thoughts wander back to Conrad’s family. Of course, I can’t forget his mother—Mrs. Miller. She’s been a part of my life for just as long as he has. I remember her as the kind of teacher who could never stop smiling, always so patient with everyone. Back in high school, she taught literature, and she had a way of making even the most boring books feel like an adventure. There was something comforting about her presence, like she was always in control, always organized.
She was the one who would drop off homemade cookies at our house whenever I was sick or after I’d spent long hours studying for exams. I didn’t always show it, but I appreciated every little gesture. She was kind, but firm, always with that maternal warmth that made everyone feel safe.
Now that I think about it, I’ve known Conrad’s mom longer than I’ve known him, though I’ve always kept my distance. She and my mom were close when we first moved here, both of them navigating life in a new country. ButMrs. Millerhad that air of perfection around her—someone who always knew what to say, when to say it, and how to handle any situation. I admired her a lot for that, though it made me a little nervous around her sometimes. She had this way of looking at you, like she could see through all your little secrets and tell exactly what you were thinking.
But as much as I admired her, I always wondered how it must’ve felt for her, having Conrad as a son. He was always so... intense, so serious. Sometimes, I’d catch him with that faraway look in his eyes—like he was lost in his own thoughts. It made me wonder what kind of relationship they shared. Was he as perfect as his mom? Or was there more to him, something I didn’t quite understand?
After breakfast, I grab my bag, swing it over my shoulder, and head toward the door, but of course—I’m not going alone. I’m not allowed to drive yet, and my parents still treat me like their little girl. So naturally,Dad is dropping me offon my first day. Not that I mind. It feels... safe. Familiar.
As I step toward the door, my mom calls out from the kitchen, “Tanu, wait! Come here, let us see you off.”
I turn back to see both my parents standing there with warm smiles. My mom, always the heart of the home, wraps me in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, beta. You’ve worked so hard for this day. Enjoy every moment at Stanford. Make the most of it. And remember, no matter what, we’re always here for you.”
Then my dad adds with a soft grin, “And if you ever face any problem at college—whether it’s studies or anything else—don’t hesitate to reach out toConrad. He’s there, and we’ve already spoken to him about keeping an eye out for you.”
I blink. “You told him?”
My mom laughs gently. “Of course. He’s practically family. He said he’d be happy to help if you need anything.”
Dad steps forward, cups my face with both hands, and places a kiss on my forehead. “You’ll always be our little girl, no matter how grown up you get. We love you so much, Tanu.”
“I love you both too,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady.
We head out to the car, and as Dad drives, I stare out the window, letting the breeze play with my hair. The world outside feels big, bright, and full of promise—but also a little scary. Still, knowing my family’s behind me—and that Conrad is somewhere on campus—gives me the tiniest bit of courage.
Today isn’t just the first day of college. It’s the first day of becomingme.
As Dad drives toward the campus, I rest my head against the window, watching the streets pass by—familiar yet still surreal. Today is a big day, but my thoughts drift somewhere else. Somewhere eight years back.
Two days after we moved into our new house in California, still surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and jet lag, we received an invitation.
It was fromMrs. Miller, our next-door neighbor—also known as “the warmest soul on this street,” as Mom still calls her. She had invited us over for a welcome dinner. I was just ten then—a shy little girl who barely spoke any English and felt like she’d landed on another planet.
I remember holding onto Mom’s hand tightly as we walked into their cozy, flower-scented home. Mrs. Miller had the brightest smile, the softest voice, and arms that hugged like home. That night was filled with homemade lasagna, warm conversations, and gentle kindness I’d never expected from strangers.
Mr. Millerwas just as warm—calm, thoughtful, and with a laugh that made you feel like you belonged. He and Dad connected instantly, while Mrs. Miller and Mom spoke like they were old friends reunited.
And that night, something else happened too.
I becamethe daughter they never had.
They only had one child—Conrad—and from the moment we met, the Millers made me feel like family. Mrs. Miller would braid my hair and help me with school projects, while Mr. Miller always made time to answer my curious questions about how everything worked. Birthdays, holidays, lazy Sundays—they always included me.
And then… there wasConrad Miller.
He was twenty then—tall, sharp-eyed, quiet. He’d come home from college for summer break. I still remember him standing in the kitchen, helping his mom set the table, occasionally glancing at us with a polite smile.
He was the first American I ever properly spoke to. I was nervous, fumbling through every sentence, but instead of laughing, he listened. Patiently. Kindly. He slowed down his words just so I could understand, and when I stumbled, he cracked the lamest joke ever just to make me laugh.
And I did.
That night, something shifted. California didn’t feel so foreign anymore.
The car pulls to a stop in front of Stanford’s main entrance. I take a deep breath, letting the crisp California air fill my lungs as I look up at the sprawling campus. The tall trees, the grand archways, and the historic buildings—it’s everything I’ve imagined and more. I’ve seen this campus in pictures and heard about it from Dad countless times, but now that I’m here, it feels like I’m standing on the edge of something bigger than myself.
Dad shifts the car into park, but I don’t move. I just sit there for a moment, letting everything sink in. The soft hum of the campus around me, the students walking to class, the buzz of excitement in the air. This is where I’ve worked my whole life to be.
Dad turns to me, his eyes warm and full of pride. “You’ve got this, Tanu. Remember, if you need anything, we’re just a phone call away.”
I smile, but it’s a bittersweet smile. I’m excited to start this new chapter, but it also feels like I’m leaving the safety of home behind. He leans over and places a soft kiss on my forehead, just like he always does when he wants to remind me how much he loves me. “We love you, sweetheart. Go show them what you’re made of.”
I nod, my heart swelling with love for him. He doesn’t need to say much for me to know how much he believes in me.
As I grab my bag and step out of the car, I glance around at the campus again, my heart racing. This is it. The place where everything begins.
Walking across the campus, I feel a sense of wonder and possibility, but also a deep, quiet determination. I don’t just want to be a student here—I want to make my mark. Stanford isn’t just a dream; it’s a stepping stone to something bigger. I’m here because I have a goal, a purpose. I’m going to be adata scientist, someone who can sift through mountains of data and turn it into something meaningful, something that can change industries, lives, and maybe even the world.
I’ve always been fascinated by tech, and it all started with Dad. I remember being just a little girl, sitting by his desk as he worked. He’d explain the projects he was working on—complex problems, coding, and the way everything seemed to fall into place with just the right algorithm. It wasn’t just the way he solved problems that caught my attention, but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about it. He wasn’t just fixing something; he was creating, building, designing the future. Watching him work sparked something inside me. I knew that I wanted to do the same thing—use my mind to shape the world, to turn raw data into something that could make a real difference.
I’m not just here to learn; I’m here to build my future. A future where I can innovate and lead, where my work doesn’t just follow trends—it shapes them.
As I settle into my seat inMaths for Data Science, I notice a guy sitting across the row from me. He’s about my age, with messy brown hair and a confident, almost cocky smile. He catches my eye and, for a moment, our gazes lock. He raises his eyebrows slightly as if to say, “I see you.”
“Hey,” he says, leaning over a little. “I’m Mike. You’re new here, right?”
I nod politely, giving him a quick smile. “Yeah, first day.”
He grins, clearly not fazed by my simple response. “Nice to meet you. I’m in my second year here. If you need help with anything, I’m your guy.”
I raise an eyebrow, giving him a small nod as I look back at my notes. I know exactly what he’s trying to do. It’s the classic‘let me help you out’move. I’m not the type to engage with guys like him, especially not this early in the semester. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not here to get distracted.
I’ve been asked this before by guys—if I’m interested in dating, or in a relationship.But I’ve never been one to think about it much. I’ve never been in a relationship, and honestly, I don’t want to rush into one. My parents raised me with a different perspective, one that values love, commitment, and tradition.
Truth is, I’ve never even had my first kiss. I’ve never held hands with a boy. I’ve kept myself away from all of that—not because I was scared, but because I’ve always believed in something more. I want my firsts to be special, to be with someone who chooses me forever. Not someone who comes and goes. I want my first kiss to be with the man I’ll marry. Someone who will love me for who I am, who will stay, grow old with me, laugh with me, and walk through life beside me.
That’s why I never entertain flirty guys. I don’t give attention to random compliments or meaningless conversations. I stay away from boys because I know what I want, and I won’t settle for anything less than real, loyal, lifelong love. Just like my parents. They had an arranged marriage, and yet, they love each other deeply. That’s the kind of love I dream about—rooted in trust, respect, and forever.
Then, the door opens.
Dr.Conrad Millersteps inside.
For a moment, the entire room goes quiet. His presence commands attention, and all eyes instinctively turn toward him. He’s tall, wearing a crisp button-up shirt and dark slacks, looking every bit the part of a professor who knows exactly what he’s talking about. But there’s something else about him—something I can’t quite place.
His gaze scans the room, and for a split second, our eyes meet. I feel a quick flutter in my chest, but his expression remains unreadable, serious. There’s no smile, no hint of recognition. It’s like he’s already seen everything this place has to offer and isn’t impressed. He doesn’t acknowledge me at all, and I wonder if he even remembers who I am—his neighbor’s daughter, the girl he’s known for eight years.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even glance around much. His focus is on the lecture, but the moment his eyes sweep across the room, I feel it—a jolt.
It’s like an electric shock that runs through me, something I can’t explain. I quickly look away, pretending like it didn’t happen, but the feeling lingers. It’s an odd mix of attraction and confusion, something that’s both exciting and unsettling. I don’t know why I feel this way, especially when I’ve known him for so long. But now, seeing him as a professor—so poised, so serious—there’s something different about him, and I can’t quite figure it out.
As he begins the lecture, I try to concentrate, but that feeling doesn’t leave. It’s unfamiliar, and I don’t like how it makes me feel. I’m used to being in control of my emotions, of keeping things clear and straightforward. But with him, it’s as if my mind and heart are at odds. I try to push it away, focusing instead on the equations he writes on the board, but the feeling refuses to dissipate.
I don’t have time for this kind of distraction. I have big plans for my future, and the last thing I need is to get caught up in some... strange attraction to my math professor. I can’t let myself go down that road. So, I force myself to ignore it, burying the confusing emotions deep inside.
After the lecture, I gather my books slowly, letting the other students leave before me. My head’s still spinning—not from the equations, but from that strange feeling Conrad triggered. I shake it off and head toward the cafeteria for lunch.
The moment I step inside the dining hall, the hum of chatter and clinking trays hits me. Groups of students laugh loudly at their tables, already forming little circles of comfort and familiarity. I stand near the entrance with my tray in hand, scanning the room like an outsider looking through a glass window. I don’t recognize anyone. I feel a lump rise in my throat.
I miss Aria.
She was my best friend all through high school—my person. The one who knew my favorite snacks, my late-night fears, and all my silly dreams. We used to talk for hours, laugh about nothing, and justbe. But she moved to the UK a few months ago with her family. We still talk sometimes, but it’s not the same. Not having her here today hurts more than I expected.
I hate this part,I whisper to myself.
I’ve always been a little introverted. Back in school, I had friends—but here, everything feels new and overwhelming. I don’t know where to sit, and I suddenly feel so out of place, like I don’t belong.
Then, I catch someone waving.
A girl with honey-blonde hair and warm brown eyes gives me a bright smile. She’s sitting at a table with just one empty seat beside her.
“Hey! You can sit here if you want!” she calls out.
Surprised, I walk over slowly, unsure if she really meant it.
“I’m Julia,” she says as I sit down. “You looked like you could use a friendly face.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and smile. “I’m Tanvi, you can call me Tanu, Thank you. I really needed that.”
She laughs gently. “First day?”
I nod. “Yeah. Everything’s… a lot.”
“Well,” she grins, “we’re in this together now. Welcome to Stanford.”
Just like that, I don’t feel so alone anymore. Maybe this new beginning isn’t going to be so hard after all.
Julia and I start talking over our lunch—just small things at first. Where we’re from, what we’re studying, how the first day has been so far.
She’s bubbly, kind, and easy to talk to. There’s a spark in her personality that feels comforting—like a warm cup of tea on a rainy day.
“I’m majoring in Economics,” she says, poking at her salad. “But I’m taking a few tech electives too, just in case I change my mind later.”
I smile. “I’m going into Data Science. I’ve always loved tech—got it from my dad, I guess.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh cool! Then you must’ve been in the same math lecture earlier, right? The one with Dr. Miller?”
I blink. “Wait, seriously? You were in that class too?”
“Yeah! Third row, far left,” she laughs. “You must’ve come in after me. That class was intense, right? And the professor… kinda strict.”
I nod, feeling a weird flutter in my stomach at the mention of his name. “Yeah... he definitely has a serious vibe.”
Julia grins. “We’ll survive. Math gang, huh?”
“Math gang,” I echo with a giggle.
She pulls out her phone. “Let’s exchange numbers. We’re officially study buddies now.”
I hand her my phone with a smile and type in my contact. We lock in the numbers and share a pinky handshake over the table like we’ve been friends for ages.
In just one lunch break, I found someone who makes the day feel less heavy. Maybe Aria being far away left a space in my heart that Julia was meant to fill, even just for this chapter of my life.
By 3:15 PM, my last class wrapped up, and I stepped out into the California sun, feeling the warmth on my skin and a sense of relief in my chest. My very first day at Stanford was officially over. I made it.
I spotted Dad’s car parked under a tree near the main gate—right where he dropped me off this morning. He waved as soon as he saw me, his face lighting up like I’d won some kind of trophy.
As I hopped into the car, he smiled and asked, “So, how was it, my little genius?”
“Wait till we get home,” I grinned.
Back at home, Mom was already waiting near the kitchen counter, her eyes eager. The moment I stepped inside, both of them surrounded me, like I’d just returned from a battlefield.
I told them everything—every little detail. The lectures, the giant library, how huge the campus was, and how I made a new friend named Julia. I even told them about the cafeteria food, minus the strange butterfly moment when Professor Conrad walked in.
They listened so patiently, with soft smiles and warm eyes. And when I was done, Dad ruffled my hair and said, “We’re so proud of you, beta.”
After a long talk, I went upstairs to my room. The moment I stepped in, I let out a deep breath. My little sanctuary. I changed out of my college clothes, tied my hair in a bun, washed my face, and threw on my comfy pajamas.
Then, I did what I always do when I want to feel like myself again—I grabbed my favorite romance novel from my nightstand, curled up on my bed, and started reading.
There’s something about love stories that makes my heart feel safe. Whether it’s old-school Bollywood dramas or slow-burn novels with heartfelt letters and forever promises—I live for them.
I’ve never dated anyone. Never kissed anyone. And honestly, I’ve never wanted to. I want thatonelove. The kind of love that stays. Just like my parents—who had a love marriage, who still hold hands when they think I’m not watching.
I don’t want to waste my heart on temporary people.
I smiled to myself, brushing my fingers over the page.
I wonder who he’ll be… the one who’s meant to be mine. The only one I’ll ever love. When will I meet him? Will he love me back the same way?
I didn’t know that my answer was already walking the same halls as me.
