First Collision
The bass was too loud, the lights too bright, and I was already regretting saying yes. The air felt heavy—thick with perfume, sweat, and something bitter I didn’t care to name. Not exactly my scene. Loud music, scattered parties, people losing themselves just enough to call it fun.
But a fresher’s party had its uses. You learned more about people when they stopped pretending.
I stayed near the bar, fingers brushing against a glass I hadn’t decided to drink from yet. Going back to the dance floor—filled with half-maniac strangers—didn’t seem like a brilliant idea.
So I reached for a drink.
At the same time, another hand did too.
“Sorry—go ahead.”
I looked up.
He was around my height—maybe a little taller, 5’7 at most. Nothing intimidating about him. Easy expression. Polite.
“No, it’s fine. You take it,” I said, offering a small, practiced smile.
“I’m Kabir.” He extended his hand.
“Shanaya.”
I shook it briefly.
He nodded, still smiling, and let go of the glass instead of taking it. A second later, he turned and walked back to a group of two boys—already deep in conversation, like they’d come together.
That’s when Aaradhya slid in beside me, already grinning.
“Shanaya, if you sit here all night, how are the boys supposed to notice you?”
I let out a soft laugh. “I’m leaving that responsibility to you.” I added a quick wink.
She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was already scanning the room again.
It was getting tiring. The noise, the crowd—everything felt like too much. I just wanted it to end.
And then—
Something shifted.
Not loud. Not obvious. Just… a presence.
Not overbearing, not forced—just there. Slightly commanding.
And a faint trace of something unfamiliar—his cologne, maybe. I couldn’t place it.
Before I could turn, Aaradhya elbowed me, barely containing her excitement.
“Shanayaaa—there’s a group of guys behind us. And they are actually hot.”
“You find every guy hot,” I muttered.
Before she could argue, Kabir walked up again—this time with two other guys.
One of them stepped forward, a little too confident, a smirk already in place.
“Hi. Sorry—again,” he said, like he didn’t mean it at all. “But you’re… something. Kabir was telling us about this cute girl he ran into, but honestly, he didn’t do you justice.”
I stared at him for a second.
Great. Male version of Aaradhya.
I didn’t respond immediately, just raised a brow at him.
“Do you rehearse these lines,” I asked, “or do they come out this embarrassing naturally?”
Kabir snorted behind him.
“Wow,” the guy placed a hand over his heart, mock hurt. “That was uncalled for. I was being genuine.”
“Try being original next time,” I took a sip from my glass.
Aaradhya leaned in, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I like her. Don’t mess with her, please.”
“Too late,” Kabir said under his breath.
The guy in front of me grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Okay, fair. Let’s restart. Hi, I’m—”
“Overconfident,” I cut in.
Kabir laughed properly this time. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s charming.”
“I am charming.”
“Debatable.”
Aaradhya was practically glowing beside me, loving every second of this.
“Anyway,” Kabir said, stepping in before his friend could argue again, “we were just—”
“Annoying people?” I offered.
“Socializing,” he corrected.
“Right. Big difference.”
“Names?” the overconfident one said suddenly, pulling out his phone like it mattered.
I frowned. “Why? Planning to file a report?”
“Basic human interaction,” he grinned.
I hesitated for half a second, then shrugged. “Shanaya Oberio.”
Silence.
It wasn’t loud. No one made a scene.
But something shifted.
Kabir’s smile paused—just slightly. The guy in front of me blinked once, like he wasn’t sure he heard right.
“What?” I frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”
Kabir let out a small breath. “No, it’s just—”
“Singhaania.”
The voice came from behind them.
Calm. Even. Controlled.
I looked up.
He stepped forward now, finally in full view. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable.
“Sidharth Singhaania.”
The name settled in the air like it belonged there.
I let out a quiet breath, then smiled—slow, deliberate.
“Of course.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Disappointed?”
“Not really,” I tilted my head. “I expected worse.”
Kabir muttered something under his breath. Aaradhya looked like she was seconds away from asking questions she wouldn’t understand the answers to.
I stepped closer.
Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to make it intentional.
“Tell me something,” I said, voice calm. “Do you always walk into places uninvited, or is tonight special?”
A flicker of something crossed his expression—interest, maybe.
“Careful,” he said quietly. “You might not like the answer.”
I smiled wider. “Try me.”
A pause.
Heavy. Charged.
Then he leaned in slightly—not enough for anyone else to notice.
“People like you usually don’t.”
Something in my chest tightened.
I didn’t step back.
“People like you,” I repeated softly, “should really learn when to stay out of my way.”
“And if I don’t?”
This time, I didn’t smile.
“Then don’t blame me for what happens next.”
Silence.
Real silence.
The kind that doesn’t come from the music stopping—but from something shifting.
Kabir exhaled sharply. “Okay, this—this feels like a bad idea.”
“Relax,” I said, finally stepping back. “It’s just a conversation.”
But my eyes were still on his.
Unmoving.
Unapologetic.
“And trust me,” I added lightly, “I never start anything I can’t finish.”
For a second—just a second—
he almost looked amused.
“Good,” Sidharth said.
“Because neither do I.”
A challenge.
Clear. Undeniable.
I picked up my glass again, like nothing had happened.
“Enjoy your night, Singhaania.”
I turned before he could reply.
Aaradhya followed instantly, still whispering, “What was that—who was that—Shanaya—”
I didn’t answer.
Because I could feel it.
That look.
Still on me.
Like this wasn’t over.
Like it had just begun.
