Chapter 2 — The Bench War
"दोस्ती के नाम पर छुपी थी एक कहानी,
हर हंसी के पीछे थी एक पुरानी निशानी,
उसके साथ वक्त रुक जाता था जैसा,
और दिल के राज़ लिख जाते हैं हवाओं में।"
"Behind friendship hid a story untold,
Every laugh carried an old memory's gold.
With her, time would softly pause—
And secrets of the heart drifted in the wind."
The bell rang, a metallic echo bouncing across the corridors of St. Hilda's International School. Students poured into the courtyard, chatting and laughing, their umbrellas bobbing like colorful mushrooms against the persistent drizzle. Udaipur's monsoon had returned, draping the campus in soft silver hues, the red sandstone rooftops slick with rain, puddles mirroring the neem trees that lined the courtyard.
Avni Sharma walked carefully, sketchbook clutched to her chest, her eyes scanning the familiar pathways. The morning had been a blur — long classes, a history test she half-guessed through, and the quiet, constant awareness that seventeen-year-old Krivan Chugh, with his messy hair and mischievous smirk, existed in her orbit.
"Saving this bench for someone important?" a voice drawled.
Avni froze.
Krivan leaned against her favorite bench, umbrella dripping, arms crossed, the corners of his mouth tugged into that infuriating smirk.
"You're late," she said, voice flat, though the warmth rising to her cheeks betrayed her irritation.
"Fashionably," he replied, tilting his head as though the world owed him explanation.
Avni rolled her eyes. "Then you'll have to share. This is my spot."
"Oh? The bench has an owner now?" he teased.
"They do," she said firmly, adjusting her bag. "And this one is mine. Back off."
"Or what? You'll draw me into submission?"
"Exactly," she said, brandishing her sketchbook like a shield.
A few students glanced over, whispering and giggling, but Avni and Krivan didn't notice. This bench had become their private battlefield, where silence was weapon, and words could sting sharper than any slap.
---
Krivan lowered himself onto the bench with exaggerated care, brushing wet strands from his forehead. "You know," he said softly, leaning back, "I could've chosen any other spot. Plenty of empty benches."
Avni squinted. "But you didn't."
"Nope," he said, smirking. "This one... seemed special."
She snorted, cheeks flushing. He caught it, naturally. He always caught it — a blush, a frown, a hesitation — as if he could read her heart like an open sketchbook.
"Fine," she muttered, settling at the opposite end of the bench. "But don't think this makes us friends."
"I never thought that," he said easily, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, arms stretched behind his head.
---
The first minutes were silent, punctuated only by the soft patter of rain and the occasional distant laughter of students running for cover. Avni sketched absentmindedly, tracing patterns in her notebook while Krivan's eyes followed the raindrops racing down the neem leaves. Occasionally, he glanced at her, catching her mid-sketch, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he looked away.
Finally, he spoke. "Why do you always draw?"
"I observe," she said without looking up. "People... they're more interesting than landscapes."
He tilted his head. "Interesting enough to annoy you?"
Her pencil paused mid-stroke. "Are you suggesting I'm annoyed?"
"You're subtle," he teased, smirking.
"Subtlety is an art," she replied, voice firm.
"Then consider me a canvas," he said, leaning back. The corners of his lips curled into a playful challenge.
---
The rain grew heavier, drumming on the veranda tiles. A drop slipped from the edge of his hair onto his collar. Avni impulsively held out a tissue.
"You're too kind," he said, taking it, eyes briefly softening.
"I'm not," she replied quickly. "Practical. You'll get sick."
"Practical? That's... new," he murmured, tucking the tissue away with a grin.
She flipped to a fresh page in her sketchbook, sketching lines she didn't want him to see. He, of course, noticed anyway — the faint outline, the tilt of her head, the way her pencil hesitated over certain curves.
---
Days passed, and the bench war extended beyond the courtyard. Classrooms became battlegrounds. They bickered over projects, teased in corridors, and argued about history, literature, even lunch tables. History paired them for a project on Mughal architecture, and tension rose whenever opinions clashed.
"I think Humayun's Tomb best demonstrates symmetry," Avni said, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"No way," Krivan countered. "Agra Fort is grand, strategic. Humayun's Tomb is too... elegant to reflect the empire's scale."
"Size isn't everything," she said sharply, cheeks flushing.
"Philosophical arguments from Sharma. Impressive," he teased.
"I don't need your approval," she snapped.
"You secretly love the banter," he said quietly.
Avni rolled her eyes but felt her heartbeat quicken. Teasing irritated her, yet drew her in. His laughter lingered longer than it should. His gaze followed her, even in moments she thought were private. Something about him unsettled her — and yet fascinated her.
---
During lunch, whispers had spread that they were "the bench war couple." Aafreen found her by the neem tree.
"You're blushing," she whispered, watching Avni open her tiffin.
"I'm not," Avni said quickly, stabbing at a sandwich.
"Right," Aafreen said knowingly. "You sit with him every day. Every. Single. Day."
"We have a project," Avni muttered.
"Sure," Aafreen smirked. "Like I 'surely' believe in snow in July."
Avni groaned but smiled despite herself. She refused to admit that even the smallest interaction with him lingered in her mind long after the moment ended.
---
One afternoon, Krivan arrived at the bench carrying two umbrellas, giving her a faint smile."Decided to be civilized today," he said, handing one over.
She blinked. "You didn't have to."
"I know," he said softly. "But I wanted to."
Time slowed — rain on leaves, distant laughter, puddles reflecting silver, and her chest tightening in a way she didn't understand.
"Fine," she said, taking the umbrella. "But don't get used to it."
"I never get used to things easily," he replied.
---
Weeks passed. Shared lunches, playful arguments, quiet gestures — the bench war became less about battle and more about understanding.
Krivan noticed when she frowned over homework, laughed with Aafreen, or hesitated before speaking. He began to protect that quiet part of her world that no one else knew existed.For Avni, confusion mingled with fascination. His teasing irritated yet drew her in. Beneath the bravado, she sensed someone who cared more than he admitted.
---
One evening, as the sun dipped behind Udaipur's lakes, she found him waiting under the neem tree with a sketch in his hands — a portrait of her, colored with pencils she'd never shown anyone.
"You drew me?" she whispered.
"I try," he said, shrugging. "You're... interesting to capture."
Avni felt something stir — a flutter, recognition, warmth. Words failed her. For the first time, the bench war didn't feel like a fight. It felt like a beginning.
---
"वो बातें जो कह ना पाए हम दोनों,
वो ख्याल जो चुपके से मुस्कुराए दोनों,
लगता था बस यही है सुकून की मंजिल,
पर जिंदगी ने कहा—अभी सफर बाकी है दोनो।"
"The words we couldn't say aloud,
The thoughts that smiled quietly between us—
It felt like we'd found our calm,
But life whispered—your journey's just begun."
---
End of Chapter 1
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