Chapter 1 — The Transfer Student
"कागजों पर लिखे थे सपने कुछ नये,
नाम उसका था, पर लिखा था मेरे दिल के हुए,
उस दिन बस एक मुस्कान मिली थी उससे,
और जिंदगी ने राह बदल ली थी छुपके से।"
"Dreams were drawn on paper that day,
Her name inked softly on my heart's edge.
One smile was all it took—
And life quietly changed its' direction."
Udaipur's morning sun had a soft golden patience about it. It painted the lake like melted honey and slipped through the old classroom windows of St. Hilda's International School, where the walls still smelled faintly of chalk and rain.
Fifteen-year-old Avni Sharma sat in the second row by the window — her usual spot — sketchbook open beside her notebook. Her pencil glided over the page, tracing the soft folds of a dupatta on a faceless figure. She wasn't drawing for anyone. She never did. Art was her quiet rebellion in a world that always demanded words.
"Avni," whispered Aafreen, leaning closer. "You've drawn half the school. When will you draw me properly?"
Avni smiled faintly, still shading. "When you sit still for more than five seconds."
Aafreen rolled her eyes, flicking her ponytail. "You're impossible. Anyway, did you hear? New guy joining today. From Jaipur."
"Another one?" Avni asked, disinterested. "Last one lasted two weeks."
"This one's different," Aafreen said mysteriously, lowering her voice. "Apparently, his father's some big-shot businessman. And he was expelled from his last school."
Avni looked up finally, raising an eyebrow. "Expelled?"
Before Aafreen could elaborate, Mrs. Joseph, their English teacher, walked in — crisp white saree, no-nonsense expression, and the kind of silence that made even whispers turn into prayers.
"Good morning, class," she said, adjusting her glasses. "We have a new student joining us today."
Whispers erupted immediately. Aafreen nudged Avni with a grin.
Mrs. Joseph glanced at the door. "You may come in, Mr. Chugh."
And there he was.
Krivan Chugh. Seventeen, tall for his age, hair slightly messy as though he hadn't cared enough to comb it. He walked in with lazy confidence, holding his file under one arm. There was something in his eyes — not arrogance, exactly, but the kind of calm that came from knowing he didn't need to impress anyone.
"Good morning," he said casually, voice low but sure.
Mrs. Joseph nodded. "Welcome to St. Hilda's. Take a seat... let's see..." Her gaze swept the class. "Ah yes, there's a free seat beside Avni Sharma. Second row."
Avni froze.
Aafreen barely contained her giggle. "Destiny," she mouthed.
Krivan walked down the aisle, dropped his bag beside her desk, and pulled out the chair with a screech that made Avni flinch. He sat, leaning back, arms folded, completely at ease.
"Hi," he said with a lopsided grin.
"Class has started," she replied flatly, eyes on her notebook.
He smirked. "You always this friendly or just saving it for special occasions?"
Avni didn't look up. "If you focus half as much on your class as you do on sarcasm, you'll fit right in."
He chuckled softly. "Sharp tongue. Noted."
Mrs. Joseph began the lesson on 'Romeo and Juliet'. The irony wasn't lost on Aafreen, who kept glancing back at them with barely suppressed laughter.
---
Halfway through the lecture, Krivan leaned closer. "What's with the sketchbook?"
Avni ignored him.
He persisted. "You draw?"
She sighed, closing it slightly. "I observe."
He raised a brow. "And do I qualify as observation material?"
She turned, meeting his gaze for the first time — steady, unamused, and just a little curious. "You talk too much for someone new."
He grinned wider. "And you judge too quickly for someone quiet."
Mrs. Joseph's voice sliced through their exchange. "Mr. Chugh, since you're so engaged in discussion, why don't you read the next passage aloud?"
The class erupted in laughter. Krivan stood, completely unfazed.
"Of course, ma'am," he said smoothly, opening his book and reading with unexpected confidence — clear diction, perfect pace. Even Mrs. Joseph's raised eyebrow softened by the end.
When he sat down, Avni caught herself almost impressed. Almost.
He leaned closer again. "Not bad for an expelled kid, right?" he whispered.
Avni blinked. "So the rumor's true?"
He tilted his head. "Depends which one you've heard."
She didn't reply, but her curiosity betrayed her. He caught the flicker in her eyes and smiled knowingly.
---
The lunch bell rang. The class dissolved into chatter and movement. Aafreen dragged Avni toward the courtyard while Krivan stayed back, talking to a group of boys who already seemed intrigued by him.
As Avni and Aafreen sat under their favorite neem tree, the conversation inevitably returned to him.
"He's definitely trouble," Aafreen declared, munching on her sandwich. "You can just see it."
Avni shrugged, sketching leaves absentmindedly. "He's just... loud."
"Loud is fine. Arrogant, though?" Aafreen grinned. "That's your worst nightmare."
Avni smirked. "He won't last the term."
But deep down, something about his quiet ease unsettled her — not in a bad way, but in the way of someone who walks into your peaceful world and rearranges the air.
---
The next day, it started to rain — light, teasing drizzle that blurred the view beyond the classroom windows.
Krivan entered late again.
Mrs. Joseph gave him the look.
He flashed an unapologetic smile and took his seat beside Avni.
"You're drenched," she said, wrinkling her nose.
"Didn't have an umbrella."
"Then you should've waited."
He glanced at the window. "I like the rain. It reminds me I'm alive."
Avni frowned, unsure what to make of that. "That's... dramatic."
He leaned on his elbow, voice softer. "You don't like it?"
She hesitated. "Rain makes everything messy. Wet shoes, muddy roads, power cuts."
He smiled faintly. "You see chaos. I see freedom."
For a second, she looked at him — really looked — and realized he wasn't just the loud transfer kid everyone whispered about. There was something else behind that grin — something lonely.
---
Later that week, they were paired for a history project. A nightmare for her.
"Let's meet after school," Krivan said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Café by the lake?"
She shook her head. "We'll work in the library. Fewer distractions."
He smirked. "You mean fewer people."
Avni glared. "I mean fewer excuses."
He laughed quietly. "Fine, Sharma. Library it is."
---
The project session was a disaster.
He doodled on her notes. She corrected his grammar.
He called her class monitor without a badge.
She called him walking detention.
But somewhere between the teasing and the bickering, she caught him looking — not mockingly, but thoughtfully — when she spoke about her favorite painter, Raja Ravi Varma.
"You talk about art like it's a person," he'd said quietly.
"Because it feels more real than most people," she'd replied.
He didn't argue. He just smiled — a real one this time, soft and unexpected.
---
By the end of the week, something had shifted.
He stopped being "the new boy."
She stopped pretending she didn't notice when he smiled at her.
On Friday, as school ended, the rain returned — steady this time, blurring the playground into shades of silver. Avni stood under the corridor shade, waiting for her driver. Krivan walked past, no umbrella as usual, hands in pockets.
"You'll fall sick," she called out before realizing she'd said it aloud.
He turned, eyes glinting. "Worried, Sharma?"
She folded her arms. "I just don't want my project partner dying before submission."
He laughed. "You still hate the rain?"
"I tolerate it."
He looked up at the sky, rain sliding down his face. "One day, you'll learn to love it."
And with that, he walked into the downpour, leaving her staring after him — the sound of rain mingling with a feeling she couldn't yet name.
---
That night, as Avni flipped open her sketchbook, she found herself sketching his outline — the curve of his jaw, the mess of his hair, the way his eyes had reflected the rain.
She frowned, trying to erase it. But her hand refused.
Because sometimes, without warning, the story begins exactly where you don't want it to.
---
"कुछ रिश्तों का एहसास शोर से नहीं होता,
वो खामोशी में भी लिख जाते हैं दिल के अंदर,
उसकी आँखों ने कहा कुछ, जो अल्फ़ाज़ ना कह पाये,
और मैं समझ गया-शुरुआत हो गई है अंदर से।"
"Some bonds don't begin in noise,
They carve themselves in silence instead.
Her eyes said what words never could,
And I knew — something had begun within."
---
End of Chapter 1
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