Sameera's POV:
The college canteen was its usual self—chaotic, overcrowded, and somehow always smelling like a mix of burnt oil, masala Maggi, and cheap coffee. It wasn't glamorous, but it was ours.
I sat squeezed between Sanskruti and Janhvi, both arguing over who got the last bite of pav bhaji, while Atharva attempted his fifth impersonation of our Ethics professor—this time with a pen tucked behind his ear and his glasses perched dangerously low on his nose.
"Engineering is not just a subject," he intoned, deepening his voice to mock-serious levels, "It is a way of life. Like brushing teeth. Daily. Thoroughly."
We burst out laughing, drawing the attention of nearby tables. But at this point, we were regular performers. People barely blinked anymore.
Across the table, Shreya was busy scribbling in her notebook while multitasking WhatsApp messages and sipping cold coffee. "Guys, focus. We need to complete the assignment by Friday. And no, Atharva, sarcasm is not a valid submission format. Usse kaam nhi chalega."
Atharva grinned. "You're just jealous of my raw creative genius."
Sneha, ever the responsible one, pulled out a printed sheet. "Also, the notice board had a new circular—there's going to be a welcome event for the MBA newcomers on Saturday."
"Welcome event?" Aryan raised an eyebrow. "Why do they get events? We got a single samosa and a speech during our orientation."
"Yeah," added Manjiri, "and that samosa had a dead chili inside. I'm still traumatized."
"Must be because the new MBA batch has personality," Ujjwal added, exaggeratedly flipping invisible hair. "Also... the tall guy with the voice? What's his name? Sahar-something?"
"Saharsh," Janhvi supplied. "I heard he's heading the music segment for the welcome night. Apparently, he sings."
"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, sipping chai that had long turned lukewarm. "Another Arijit Singh prototype with dimples and daddy issues."
Shreya laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "Sam, be nice. You haven't even spoken to the guy."
"I don't need to. His voice already reached my classroom uninvited."
"Admit it, you're curious," teased Sanskruti.
"I'm irritated," I corrected, dramatically placing my hand on my heart. "There's a difference."
Still, I couldn't deny the growing buzz about him.
Saharsh Wankhade.
New guy from Pune. Sings. Smart. A charmer.
People were talking. Even professors, oddly impressed. He hadn't even been here two weeks, and he already had his own social orbit.
Meanwhile, I was still figuring out how to make it to my 9:00 AM lectures without dying.
"Anyway," said Sneha, trying to restore order, "the organizing team wants volunteers from the engineering departments too—for backstage work, tech support, some decoration... and coordination between MBA and BE."
There it was. The word that changed my mood instantly: Coordination.
And right on cue, Shreya leaned in and smirked.
"Sameera. You love organizing events, na? What say?"
I stared at her, horrified.
"Don't even think about it."
Too late. Everyone at the table had already locked eyes like predators sensing blood.
I was their prey. Again.
Back home, I crashed onto my bed like a tired Bollywood heroine after a five-minute dramatic song in the rain. Only this was just sweat, traffic dust, and emotional exhaustion from dealing with seven friends and a hundred extroverts.
As I tied my hair into a messy bun, my phone rang.
Rishi❤️...
I didn't even say hello.
"I hate everyone," I declared.
"Oh, sweetie," Rishi said with fake concern. "Let it out. Cry on my digital shoulder."
"I got pulled into coordinating the MBA welcome event," I groaned. "Apparently, being organized means I deserve to suffer."
"Ooooh, are we talking full-blown college function chaos? With committees and power-hungry MCs and weird dudes trying to be Ranveer Singh?"
"Yes, and I'll be stuck between engineering ego and MBA delusion."
"Hot."
"No."
"Hot," she insisted.
I flopped onto the pillow. "Why couldn't I have failed NEET thrice like you and gone to Jaipur instead? You're living a peaceful life surrounded by resistors and people who still think AC is magic."
"Babe," she said, smug, "we both know I'm the main character there. But please, go on. Tell me who annoyed you the most today. Let me hate with you."
"There was... this one guy."
A pause.
"Oh?" she said, instantly alert. "One guy?"
I rolled my eyes. "I didn't meet him. I saw him. Briefly. Leading a mini mob of MBA freshers like he was starting a cult."
"Describe him using snacks."
I laughed. "Okay. Umm... white tee paired with denim jacket, clean stubble, jawline like a Nacho chip, and cheekbones that could cut glass."
Rishi gasped. "Cheekbones? Not the cheekbones. SAMEERA. Were you ogling?"
"I was not ogling," I said defensively. "It was more like... accidental cheekbone exposure."
"You're falling for a cheekbone? That's so you."
"I just noticed it. In the middle of all the chaos. Like a weird little glitch in the matrix."
"Did you get his name?"
I paused. "...I heard someone say Saharsh."
Rishi squealed. "Okay, that name is hot. Sounds like someone who plays sad songs on the guitar and smells like coffee and regret."
I choked on my water.
"You're the worst," I said, laughing.
"No babe. I'm the best. And mark my words: This Saharsh is going to make your life interesting."
"He better not. I have an assignment due and exactly one emotional spoon left for the week."
I went quiet for a second.
Then: "Anyway, wanna FaceTime? I need your face to cancel out his."
She laughed. "Calling in 3... 2..."
FaceTime Incoming: Rishi❤️...
I smiled.
Maybe I hated everyone.
But not this one.