Project Hate-To-Date

"Updates every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday & Sunday — with surprise bonus updates now and then you didn’t know you needed! ( just because I love you!")😉💖

Natasha’s (POV)

There I was, standing in front of my mirror like it owed me answers.

Messy bun? Check.

Last night’s kajal giving me raccoon chic? Check.

Oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder like I’m starring in a sad indie film? Double check.

Final year of college.

Same New York air.

Same freezing breeze.

Same confused, chaotic version of me. But slightly wiser… I hoped.

I smeared some lip balm across my mouth and gave my reflection the best pep talk I could manage.

“Let’s do this, Kapoor. You’ve survived worse. Like campus food. And your tuna-loving roommate.”

I zipped up my bomber jacket and stepped outside. Yellow taxis, loud honking, and people sipping overpriced coffee like it was oxygen — New York was doing its thing. Fast. Loud. Alive.

The city hadn’t been kind at first — the language, the pace, the cold, the constant “Huh? What did you say?” from Americans when I used Indian slang. But now, somehow, it felt like mine.

I shoved my AirPods in and let the familiar voice of Kishore Kumar hum in my ears. Yep, I was still that girl — old Bollywood in a modern jungle.

As I waited at the crosswalk, watching the signal blink red, I felt it creep in — that old memory I tried not to romanticize too much.

---

✨ Years Ago – Delhi, India

“Are you serious, Natasha? New York?”

My dad looked at me like I’d said I was moving to Mars.

Mom? Already crying. Obviously.

“Beta, it’s not safe there. Who’ll make sure you eat? Or wear enough layers? You’ll freeze to death!”

Classic Indian parent response. Worry first, clap later.

I remember smiling, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Mom. I got a full scholarship. Columbia. I have to go. It’s my dream.

I’m not backing down.”

The suitcase lay open on the bed, a chaotic mess of folded clothes and tangled thoughts. I stared at it, unsure whether I was packing my dreams or running from the pieces of my heart I didn’t have the courage to pick up yet.

Just then, the door creaked open.

"You're really going?" Neil my younger brother stood at the doorway, arms crossed, face masked in indifference. His oversized hoodie made him look younger, even though he hated when I said that.

I smiled softly, “Yeah. Flight’s tomorrow.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, then walked in and slumped on the bean bag near my bed. “Good. Now I’ll have full access to the TV without your lame K-dramas playing at 3 a.m.”

I chuckled, “As if you didn’t secretly watch those with me.”

He scoffed, but I caught the slight twitch in his lips. “I only watched for those fight scenes.”

“Sure, sure.” I zipped one side of the suitcase, then looked over at him — his eyes were on the ceiling, blinking too much.

“You’ll miss me?” I asked, gently.

“Nope.”

I smiled at the lie. “I’ll miss you.”

“Why though?” His voice cracked slightly. “I’m annoying, remember? Always eating your chocolates, switching your shampoo with dad’s aftershave...”

I laughed, “You did not— wait, that was you?!”

He burst out laughing, and I joined him. But it faded just as quickly. Silence settled again, like dust over old books.

Then Neil stood up and walked to my bed. For a second, he hesitated. And then, like when he was seven again, he hugged me. Tight.

“I don’t want you to go,” he mumbled into my shoulder. “But I know you have to.”

Tears welled in my eyes instantly, but I kept my voice calm. “I’m not leaving you, Neil. I’m doing this for us... for a better life, for everything we always talked about. Remember your silly dream of having a gaming studio?”

He sniffed, still holding me. “Yeah.”

“I’ll make sure that happens. No matter what. Even if I have to cross oceans, I’ll do anything for you.”

He pulled back, eyes glassy but stubborn like mine. “Just don’t forget to call me.”

“I’ll call so much you’ll get sick of me.”

“Impossible.” He smiled, barely.

“Take care of mum and dad, okay?”

He nodded, then added, “Don’t let any weird guys in New York mess with your brain. You’re already kinda crazy.”

I swatted his arm, laughing through tears. “You’re the worst.”

He grinned. “You love me anyway.”

And damn it, I really did.

We are that middle-class family who poured water into the shampoo bottle, just to make it last one more day. But today, as I looked at him sitting beside me warmth radiating without a word, I realised… I could buy the whole world if I wanted — because I already felt richer than ever. I was surrounded by people who truly cared for me. And I would do whatever it takes to keep them happy.

After a week of overprotective panic, overstuffed luggage, and overemotional hugs, I’d said my dramatic teary goodbye at the airport. Alone. Terrified. But buzzing with possibility.

I thought I was walking into a Bollywood-meets-Netflix montage. rooftop parties, Fairy lights, coffee dates, dreamy guys with charming accents.

Reality?

Late-night essays. Cultural awkwardness. Zero fairy lights. And did I mention my roommate’s obsession with tuna?

Still… I’d choose it all again. Every weird, beautiful, lonely second of it.

---

“YO! Kapoor!”

I blinked, pulled back into the present as a very dramatic Rhea ran toward me with her arms flung open like she was in a Karan Johar film.

I laughed and hugged her tightly. “Where’s the rest of our dysfunctional circus?”

“Right here, baby!”

Alanna appeared in her fluffy pink jacket, heels clicking like a runway model.

Behind her, Arjun dragged his feet like sleep-deprived drama was his brand. And Zac? Already sipping a Red Bull like caffeine owed him child support.

“Last year, suckers!” Arjun grinned.

“We survived,” Zac added solemnly. “Barely.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Rhea scoffed. “I’m thriving.”

“You live on iced lattes and boys with guitars,” I said.

“Exactly,” she winked.

We walked toward the canteen like we owned the campus — five friends, one chaotic bond, and a last year waiting to be ruined gloriously.

---

🍕 Campus Canteen — 10:13 AM

We slid into our corner booth — our unofficial HQ. Bags dropped. Hair tied. pulling out half-eaten granola bars, chai-flavored coffee pods, and an emergency Nutella pack (ofcourse mine) Instant gossip mode: ON.

“So,” Zac said with a sly smile. “Any new crushes this semester?”

“Eww! No, Please,” I scoffed. “Romance is dead. I’m on an emotion detox.”

“Oh really?” Rhea leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Then I guess you won’t care that he’s back! Guess who’s back from his Europe Trip?”

I raised a brow. “He?”

“Don’t say it,” I warned, holding up my spoon like a weapon.

“Oh, we’ll say it,” Alanna giggled. “Siddharth. Freaking. Birla.” Aka 'Sid Birla'

God help me.

Right then, as if on cue from the rom-com I didn’t order — the doors swung open.

And there he was.

Brown leather jacket. Wind-tossed hair. Sunglasses he did not need indoors. & Aviators he didn’t need it either. And a smirk that clearly came with a birth certificate.

Walking like he was in a slow-mo music video.

The room actually hushed. Girls turned.

And everyone looked. Whispered. Gawked.

Girls sat up straighter. Some flipped their hair. It was ridiculous.

“Oh great. The golden NRI prince has landed.”

“He’s hot, admit it,” Alanna teased.

“He’s hot-annoying,” I muttered. “Rich, spoiled, Mr. All-Rounder. Probably drinks expensive water and thinks ‘chai’ is just tea with attitude. Probably never faced a struggle in his life.”

“But still aces his grades and wins basketball tournaments,” Zac added with a wink.

“And he’s Indian!” Alanna added with hope in her voice. “Shouldn’t that earn him some love from you?”

“He’s NRI,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “And his Hindi? Sounds like someone force-fed Siri a script.”

Everyone burst out laughing. But me?

I was just trying to ignore the fact that I could feel him coming closer. Like the weather changed when he entered the room.

It wasn’t even that he did anything to me.

I just… didn’t like him.

Something about him was too shiny, too smooth, too perfect. And perfection? That wasn’t real. It was just a mask people wore.

And probably he didn't liked me either.

I glanced up.

And… yep.

He was looking right at me. Just a second. Just a flicker. But enough to feel that ugh-level irritation crawl under my skin.

His expression?

Amusement.

Like he knew exactly how much I hated him.

And loved it.

He turned away like I wasn’t worth more than a glance.

My blood boiled.

“God, I hate him,” I muttered under my breath.

————————————————

The hallway was crowded with chatter and energy. Students huddled at their lockers, tossing in books and pretending they weren’t already tired of academia.

I reached mine and started digging through it like it owed me a lost treasure. My favorite pen? Gone. My charger? Tangled with three hair ties and a chocolate wrapper. Classic. And I was stuck with my locker door again.

Then, of course — he arrived.

Sid—freaking—Birla, surrounded by his usual entourage of perfectly dressed girls who laughed like every syllable he said was a gift to the world.

And right beside him? That one best friend — what’s-his-name — Ishaan, all tall and smug with eyes that looked like they saw everything and judged half of it.

I didn’t even turn. I just focused harder on my locker, because ignoring him felt like victory.

But no.

“Hey, Kapoor,” Sid’s voice slid in from behind me.

Sarcastic. Smooth. Smug.

I didn’t move. Just blinked slowly at my locker and prayed to the ghost of Shakespeare to strike him with silence.

"You're going to break it, Hulk,"

God I hate him.

“I saw you at the canteen earlier,” he said. “You looked… sad. Something happen? No Nutella?”

I closed my eyes. Counted to five. Then turned with a fake smile.

"You're going to irritate me, mosquito."

"Excuse me?"

“I also saw you in the canteen. Must be a tragic day for you. No fan girls to sit on your lap?”

He grinned like a cat with a fresh mouse.

“Damn. That sounds tragic. But hey—talking to me? Thought today would be your luckiest day.”

“Oh, absolutely,” I deadpanned. “Right up there with root canals and bird poop on my shoulder."

Ishaan snorted — in the way you like watching a lion stalk its prey on Discovery Channel.

One of the girls beside him, wearing enough perfume to kill a small animal, flipped her hair and glared at me.

“It’s okay, Sid,” she said with the fakest pout. “Some girls just don’t know how to appreciate what’s right in front of them.”

I gave her a slow blink. “You’re right. I usually ignore expired goods.”

Rhea chose that perfect moment to appear beside me, her eyebrow already raised.

Sid looked at me, still amused, but his smirk had dulled a little — almost irritated now.

“See you in class, kapoor,” he said, and walked off with his tribe.

I turned to Rhea. “If I disappear, you’ll know I’ve been jailed for murder.”

“Bail you out with chai,” she said. “Promise.”

---------------------------------------

📚 Later That Day – Cultural Studies Lecture Hall

The worst thing about Siddharth? He was smart. Like, actually smart.

Which made him ten times more irritating.

I was mid-bored when Professor Daniels clapped once.

“Debate time,” he announced. “Simple topic — modern education systems are failing us. Two sides: for or against. Let’s hear some opinions. You — Miss Kapoor?”

Oh, perfect.

I sat up straighter, cleared my throat.

“I think the system’s outdated,” I said. “We’re still being taught like it's the 80s. It’s rigid. One-size-fits-all. It kills creativity.”

A few students nodded. I smirked internally. Nailed it.

But then…

“Well, someone’s bitter,” came that voice.

Of course.

Sid Birla sat three rows behind me, all casual confidence. “Maybe you just didn’t figure out how to work with the system instead of blaming it.”

I turned. “Or maybe you’re just privileged enough to think it works.”

Oof. That hit. The class went ooooh like we were on reality TV.

“I’m not privileged. I’m just competent,” he replied with a fake smile.

“You’re arrogant.”

“You’re angry.”

“You breathe too loudly.”

“You talk too much.”

“I think you love the sound of your own voice.”

“I think you’re obsessed with me.”

And before I could stop myself, I grabbed a chalk piece and threw it at his face.

Lightly. Okay, not lightly.

It hit his forehead.

He stared.

Then grinned.

Picked up an eraser… and chucked it back at me.

It hit my shoulder with a pfft.

A collective gasp. And then…

Chaos.

Arjun threw a scrunched-up paper ball. Rhea ducked. Zac screamed, “REVOLUTION!” and launched a pen like a javelin.

Within ten seconds, the entire class was in a war zone.

Markers flying. Desks shaking. Arjun started humming Lakshya background music.

“ENOUGH!” Professor Daniel roared.

The silence was instant.

His eyes zeroed in on me and that Sid.

“You two. Office. Now.”