Chapter 1
The air in the Imperial College of Arts was thick with the scent of expensive floor wax and the nervous energy of a thousand new beginnings. For Radhika Sharma, the corridor was a stage, and every step she took was a measured beat in a rhythm only she could hear.
She stood near the tall, arched windows of the west wing, adjusting the strap of her dance bag. Beside her, the world seemed to chill by a few degrees.
Aarav Rathore.
Even at eighteen, he didn't just stand; he loomed. He was a silhouette of sharp jawlines and cold, distant eyes, already carrying the weight of a name that made grown men in the city whisper in fear. He wasn't looking at the throngs of students; he was looking through them, as if they were nothing more than static on a screen.
"God, can you feel that?" a voice whispered near Aarav’s shoulder.
Reyansh Roy leaned against the locker, a predatory grin playing on his lips as he watched the crowd. His eyes suddenly locked onto a girl weaving through the chaos—a girl with paint-stained fingers and a messy bun that defied gravity.
"Bhai, dekhna... kitni mast bandi hai," Reyansh muttered, nudging Aarav with his elbow, his gaze fixed on Saisha Agrawal as she laughed at something a classmate said.
Aarav didn't even turn his head. His eyes remained fixed on the space straight ahead, though his peripheral vision was locked onto the slight, graceful figure of the dancer standing just a few feet away.
"Hn, mujhe nahi dekhna," Aarav replied, his voice a low, gravelly friction that seemed to vibrate in the narrow hallway.
Radhika felt the hair on her arms stand up. She didn't look at him—she didn't dare—but she could feel his gravity pulling at her. She knew that voice. It was the same one that had occupied the dark corners of her mind since they were children.
Just then, Saisha spotted Radhika and waved frantically, her face lighting up. "Radhu! Stop posing and let’s go, we’re going to be late for Orientation!"
Radhika finally moved, her footsteps light and fluid. As she passed the two boys, the hem of her sheer dupatta brushed against Aarav’s hand. For a split second, time seemed to catch.
Aarav’s fingers flexed, catching the air she left behind. He didn't look at Reyansh's 'mast bandi.' He didn't look at the prestigious halls of their new life. He simply watched the back of Radhika’s head until she disappeared into the crowd.
"You're lying, Aarav," Reyansh chuckled, catching the subtle tension in his friend's frame. "You've been looking since the moment we walked in."
Aarav’s expression didn't soften. It only grew colder. "I don't look, Rey. I observe. And she... she's out of rhythm."
But as he turned to walk in the opposite direction, his heart hammered a frantic, irregular beat against his ribs—a rhythm that belonged entirely to her.
