📅 November 7 – Devgarh High School
A Day That Felt Wrong
From the moment Abhay woke up, the air felt strange. Too still. Too quiet. Like the world was holding its breath.
Ishanvi felt it too. Her small copper diya — usually bright — refused to light properly that morning. Even her scarf felt heavier around her neck, as if weighed down by emotions she didn't want to admit.
They traveled to Devgarh together with their siblings, scooters humming through the cold morning breeze. But they barely spoke.
Every time Abhay glanced at Ishanvi in the rear-view mirror, she looked away. Every time she turned toward him, he pretended to focus on the road.
Distance. But also… pull.
Science Class – The Turning Point
Fourth period. Science Lab. The entire class gathered around the front tables for a demonstration about heat and evaporation.
"Today," the teacher said, "we will observe how heat affects water molecules—"
Abhay's stomach tightened. Ishanvi's fingers tingled.
They didn't even look at each other… yet every molecule in the room seemed aware.
The teacher placed a beaker filled with water onto a burner.
The moment the flame touched the glass…
Something shifted.
A soft orange glow flickered around Ishanvi's wrist — barely visible, but real. And the water inside the beaker trembled as if startled.
Simran noticed immediately, eyes widening. Vivaan whispered, "Why is the water shaking like that?" Aarush stretched his neck, confused. Raghav frowned, sensing… something.
The flame under the beaker weakened. Then strengthened. Then flickered violently.
"Ishanvi…" Abhay whispered softly, unable to stop himself. Her breath caught.
The flame rose suddenly — too high. Students gasped.
At the same moment, water droplets from the nearby tap rose a few inches into the air around Abhay's hand — swirling gently like they recognized him.
The entire class froze.
"What the—?" Aarush stepped back.
The teacher turned, shocked. "Who opened the tap? Why is the flame—?"
But Ishanvi quickly clenched her fist, forcing the flame back down, almost painfully. Abhay shook his hand, the droplets falling harmlessly to the counter.
A moment of silence. Too long. Too heavy.
"Must be the wind…" someone muttered. "Or a gas issue." "Or pressure in the tap," Meera added quickly, trying to save them.
Slowly, the class believed it. Even the teacher accepted the explanation, though reluctantly.
But Simran… she watched the two of them with an expression that said she knew the truth — and feared it.
The Rooftop
After lunch, Abhay slipped away to the school rooftop. He needed breathe. To think. To stop the storm inside him.
What happened in the lab proved one thing — the more emotional he got, the stronger the water reacted.
He clenched the railing. His jealousy from yesterday… His confusion… His longing…
It all built like pressure behind a dam.
Then he heard footsteps.
Ishanvi.
She stood beside him, the wind carrying her scent — sandalwood and something warm, like sparks.
"Abhay," she whispered.
He didn't turn.
"Why did you leave class?" "I needed fresh air." "You're lying."
He exhaled shakily. "Ishu… when Aarush talked to you yesterday, something inside me—"
She stepped closer. "I know. I felt it too."
Her flame flickered faintly at her fingertips.
"And today in the lab," she added softly, "when the flame reacted… it wasn't just me. It was us."
This time, he looked at her.
Their eyes met.
Orange and blue.
Fire and water.
Opposites. Destined to clash. Yet drawn like magnets.
"I don't know what's happening to us," Abhay said, voice low, "but I can't stay away from you."
She pressed her palm against his chest. His heartbeat jumped.
"I don't want you to stay away," she whispered.
And for a moment… the wind around them warmed. The water tank on the roof rippled. The tiny diya in her heart sparkled.
Nature didn't approve. But their hearts didn't care.
The Foreshadowing
As they left the rooftop, neither noticed the janitor standing in the stairwell shadows. An old man with cloudy eyes. The same one who watched them at the fair.
He murmured under his breath, "The Sudarshini has chosen them… but rivers never choose without price."