Dreaming of you

Saanvi's Pov:

The room was spinning.

Not metaphorically. Not dramatically.

Literally. Spinning.

I clutched the cold glass in my hand, staring blankly at the crowd in front of me as I tried to process what had just happened. Music thumped in the background, bodies swayed to the beat, and in the middle of it all stood Samarth Raheja — glowing under the golden lights like he always did, with that perfect, stupid smile.

"This is Saanvi," he said, voice as calm as ever, arm wrapped around me like it belonged there. "My girlfriend."

I blinked.

Someone gasped.

And then I fainted.

---

Let me back up.

Twelve hours earlier, I was not a girlfriend. I was just Saanvi Mehra — scholarship student, law fresher, and professional avoider of drama. I was sitting in the canteen with Dhriti, my only real friend in college so far, trying to memorize legal maxims for our Monday quiz.

"You’re not even listening," Dhriti groaned, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

"I am!" I protested, even though I definitely wasn’t. Something outside the window had caught my attention.

Or rather… someone.

A guy, maybe early twenties, was stumbling near the campus gate, clutching his side. There was blood on his shirt. Real blood.

"Dhriti," I whispered, nudging her.

She followed my gaze and frowned. "Let it go, Saanvi. Probably some fight. Not our business."

But it looked serious.

"I’m just going to check," I said, already standing.

"Saanvi—!"

Too late.

I ran. By the time I reached the gate, the guy had fallen near a tree. I bent down, asking, "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

He mumbled something unintelligible, and then—footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry.

I turned.

Three men were running towards us. Big, rough, clearly not friendly. The guy’s eyes widened in fear.

"RUN!" he yelled.

So I did.

I didn’t even know where I was going. I dashed into the street, nearly got hit by a bike, and finally jumped into the backseat of the first car I saw that wasn’t locked.

"DRIVE!" I screamed.

The girl in the front seat looked at me like I was insane. "What—?"

"Go! Please, I’ll explain later, just GO!"

To her credit, she drove. Fast.

---

Ten minutes later, I was panting, wild-haired, and possibly traumatized in her passenger seat.

"Thanks," I whispered. "I’m sorry. That was—a lot."

She laughed. "Understatement. You kinda look like someone dumped you in a soap opera."

I cracked a smile. "You’re not wrong."

"Well," she said, glancing at the time. "You owe me. I was on my way to a party. And I was supposed to play a role tonight."

"A role?"

She grinned. "Yeah. Fake girlfriend of Samarth Raheja."

I choked on my own breath. "Wait. THE Samarth Raheja?"

She raised a brow. "You know him?"

I almost said, *I dream about him*, but decided that was a bit much. So I nodded.

"Well, too bad. I’m out. You can go instead."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling over in front of a fancy-looking house where fairy lights twinkled across balconies. "Put your hair up, fix your face, and just smile. You’ll be fine."

Before I could argue, she was gone.

I stood there, stunned. Then, against every logical thought in my head, I walked in.

---

So here we are.

Back to me, standing at Samarth’s party, pretending I knew what I was doing. Trying not to pass out. Failing.

When I came to, I was on a velvet couch with a damp cloth on my forehead.

"You okay?" a voice asked.

I opened my eyes.

And there he was.

Samarth.

Looking genuinely concerned.

I blinked again. "I… think so."

He smiled. "Good. You gave everyone a scare."

"Right," I mumbled. "Sorry about that."

He tilted his head. "Are you nervous? About this whole… girlfriend thing?"

I gave a weak laugh. "You have no idea."

He looked like he wanted to ask something else, but just nodded.

"Don’t worry," he said. "You’re doing great."

I swallowed hard.

What. Is. My. Life.