Morning arrived, and Ayaan was still asleep on the sofa. When Momo came downstairs, she noticed him lying there but said nothing, quietly going about her household chores.
Meanwhile, Aarshi woke up in Ayaan's room. As her eyes opened, she realized she had fallen asleep on his bed in a completely ungraceful position. Startled, she quickly got up and hurried downstairs. Spotting Momo in the hall, she slowed her steps, trying to appear normal, and silently slipped into her own room.
By then, Ayaan had woken up too. Soon, both of them freshened up and came out. For Aarshi, the entire situation felt painfully awkward—she had never expected that she would end up sleeping on Ayaan's bed like that. This time, she ate her breakfast quietly and sat in the hall watching TV.
As she watched, Ayaan came and sat beside her. In a casual tone, he said, "Don't sleep in the afternoon today. I don't like anyone else sleeping on my bed." Aarshi listened to him attentively, her eyes lowered.
Then Ayaan added, "Let's play some physical games today."
Aarshi softly replied, "I don't know anything except badminton."
Ayaan smiled and said, "That's fine. I'll teach you everything."
She nodded gently in agreement.
What Aarshi didn't know was that Ayaan excelled in every sport. She had no idea that the boy sitting beside her was an international taekwondo player.
Ayaan had his iPad with him. Aarshi picked it up casually and opened the gallery. It was filled with group photos—pictures of five people, appearing again and again. Curious, she asked about them. Ayaan glanced at the photos and began introducing each one.
"There's Natasha," he said, pointing to a cute girl with short hair and a strikingly beautiful appearance.
"And this is Mishtha," he continued, indicating a girl with medium-length straight hair, chubby cheeks, and a bright bunny-like smile.
"That's Zayn," he added, referring to a boy so handsome he looked like a K-drama actor.
"And him—Karan," he said, pointing at a boy who carried an unmistakable air of class and wealth.
"And the fifth one… that's me."
In those photos, they all looked perfect—like characters straight out of a high school drama.
As Aarshi kept scrolling, she came across a particular picture of Ayaan. In it, he stood wearing his dobok, a black belt tied firmly around his waist, and a golden medal hanging proudly around his neck. The image alone spoke volumes—it was clearly taken at a grand tournament.
As she stared at the photo, something stirred in her memory—something she had never imagined.
The picture was from August last year, when a major sports tournament had been organized in their state. Ayaan had won a gold medal in that very event. Behind him in the photo stood many people—and among them was someone Aarshi recognized very well.
Backstory—
Last year, Aarshi had attended that very tournament with her friends Ishika and Shanaya, following a teacher's suggestion. Multiple sports competitions were happening at once. During the event, Shanaya had developed a crush on a boy—a taekwondo player, a black belt, who had won most of his matches.
Shanaya had followed him around throughout the event. Unfortunately, on the same day, Aarshi's glasses had fallen and broken in the crowd, leaving her unable to see clearly. While Shanaya had shown the boy to Ishika, Aarshi never got a proper look at him.
Now—
There was no doubt left—the boy Shanaya had admired… was Ayaan.
The proof was right there in the photo—Shanaya stood in the background.
As Aarshi pieced everything together in her mind, her perspective toward Ayaan shifted entirely. She stared at the photo for several minutes, lost in thought, realizing that her friend's crush was sitting right beside her.
A wave of confusion washed over her. How would she ever tell Shanaya about this?
After sitting in silence for a long time, she finally turned toward Ayaan and asked softly, "Do you talk to your friends every day?"
Ayaan nodded. "Yes."
Aarshi blinked at him, hesitant yet hopeful. Ayaan understood what she meant without her saying it aloud.
"Do you want to talk to your friends too?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You can use my iPad to contact your brother and your friends," Ayaan said. "Just make sure you don't share my number with too many people."
Aarshi made a small promise gesture with her hands and said, "I promise. I'll accept all your terms and conditions."
With that, she took the iPad and went to her room. Opening her suitcase, she pulled out her personal diary and found Ishika's number—her closest friend, the one who had been by her side since childhood. Whether it was school or the hostel, they had always shared everything—even a room.
Without wasting a moment, Aarshi texted Ishika. It took some time for Ishika to come online, but Aarshi waited anxiously, her eyes fixed on the screen.
And the moment Ishika replied, Aarshi began typing rapidly, her fingers almost trembling with excitement and urgency.
Writing
In a rush of breathless excitement, Aarshi poured everything out to Ishika over chat—every detail, every realization, every shocking connection. Her fingers moved hastily across the screen, her heart racing as she waited for a reaction.
But the response she received was… disappointingly dull.
It lacked excitement, lacked surprise—almost as if Ishika wasn't interested at all.
Frowning slightly, Aarshi typed quickly, "What happened? Why aren't you reacting?"
A reply came after a brief pause.
"I know you're pranking me. And I'm not going to fake being surprised just for your sake."
For a moment, Aarshi simply stared at the screen. Then it hit her—
Ishika didn't believe her. Not even a little.
Determined, Aarshi typed again, "Do you even remember what that boy looked like?"
"Of course," Ishika replied without hesitation.
Aarshi's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of challenge lighting within them.
"Fine. I'll give you proof. Just wait."
Without wasting another second, she stepped out into the hall, her movements quiet and careful. Ayaan was there, completely unaware. Aarshi discreetly lifted the iPad and recorded a short video.
But when she checked it, frustration flickered across her face—
only his back was visible.
If she moved any closer to capture his face, he would instantly realize what she was doing.
She exhaled softly, thinking quickly. Fine… I'll capture a proper photo later. And this time, with me in it.
With that plan in mind, she walked up to Ayaan as if nothing had happened.
"Come on," she said casually, "let's play a game."
Ayaan glanced at her and replied, "We'll play badminton. That's the only thing you know anyway."
Aarshi lifted her chin slightly. "Okayyy."
A faint smirk appeared on his face, as if he had already accepted the challenge.
—
A little while later, they stood in the backyard, rackets in hand.
For Aarshi, badminton wasn't just a game—it was something she truly loved. She had been the champion in her school, unmatched on the court. Yet beyond this, she knew nothing of other sports.
Ayaan twirled his racket casually before saying, "If you get tired or end up hurting yourself, you can pause the match anytime."
Aarshi shot him a sharp look, her confidence unwavering.
"That won't be necessary."
There was a quiet fire in her voice—one that made it clear she had no intention of backing down.
Ayaan smirked again, stepping into position. "We'll see."
Aarshi tightened her grip on the racket, her eyes locking onto him with determination.
The match hadn't even started yet—
and already, the air between them was filled with challenge, rivalry…
Oye, Aarshi," he called out lazily, "are you ready, or are you just here to admire my skills?"
Aarshi shot him an unimpressed look. "Please. I'm here to defeat you, not admire you."
Ayaan chuckled, shaking his head. "Defeat me? You can't even hold the racket properly."
"At least I don't show off like some international 'so-called' champion," she shot back, adjusting her stance.
His smirk widened. "So-called? Watch this serve."
The shuttle flew swiftly from his racket, slicing through the air with precision.
"Out!" Aarshi declared instantly.
"It was on the line," Ayaan protested.
"In your imagination, maybe."
He scoffed. "You're just scared because I'm winning."
"Winning?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow. "It's literally one-all."
"Exactly," he replied confidently. "You're struggling to keep up."
Aarshi exhaled sharply before striking the shuttle back with a sudden burst of force. "Oh really? Try returning this!"
The shuttle sped toward him in a sharp smash. Ayaan managed to return it, though barely.
"Okay… that was lucky," he muttered.
"Lucky?" Aarshi's voice dropped into a warning tone. "Say that again and next time I'll aim at you."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me."
The rally intensified, their movements growing faster, sharper. Feet shuffled, rackets clashed against the air, and the shuttle danced between them like a challenge neither was willing to lose.
"Why are you hitting so hard?" Ayaan called out between shots. "It's badminton, not war."
"Because you're on the other side," she fired back.
"Wow. Personal attack now?"
"Focus on the shuttle, not your feelings."
"My feelings are fine," he replied smoothly, flicking the shuttle just over the net. "Your footwork isn't."
Aarshi rushed forward, barely managing to lift the shuttle back. "Excuse me? My footwork is better than your attitude."
"At least I have an attitude."
"Yeah," she muttered, "too much of it."
Without warning, Ayaan dropped the shuttle delicately near the net. Aarshi lunged forward but missed it by an inch.
"Ugh! Cheap trick!" she groaned.
"It's called skill," he corrected calmly.
"It's called annoying."
"Same thing when you're playing against me."
She clenched her jaw. "Keep talking, I'll win this match."
"Keep dreaming," he replied, already preparing for the next serve.
The final rally began, the tension thick between them.
"This point decides it," Aarshi said, her voice steady but her eyes blazing.
"Don't cry after you lose."
"Don't brag after you lose."
The shuttle flew back and forth in rapid succession, each strike more precise than the last. Neither of them held back now. It was speed, skill, and stubbornness colliding all at once.
Then—one final smash.
"Out! I win!" Ayaan exclaimed triumphantly.
"No way, that was in!" Aarshi argued immediately.
"Admit it, you lost."
"Never," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "Rematch."
Ayaan raised an eyebrow. "Already? Can't accept defeat?"
"I don't lose," she replied coolly. "I just take revenge in the next game."
He smirked, stepping back into position. "Fine. But this time, no excuses."
"And this time," she said, lifting her racket again, "no overconfidence."
"Deal."
"Deal."
She met his gaze with quiet fire. "But just so you know… I'm winning this one."
Ayaan chuckled softly. "We'll see about that, Miss 'Badminton Only.'"
Aarshi gave a faint, confident smile. "And you'll remember why I said that."
And with that, the game began again—faster, fiercer, and filled with even more arguments than before.
In the final moments of the match, just as the tension reached its peak, fate intervened in the cruelest way. Aarshi's glasses slipped from her face and fell to the ground.
For a split second, everything blurred.
The shuttle—once so clear to her sharp eyes—became nothing more than a fleeting shadow. She tried to follow it, tried to strike back, but she couldn't see it properly.
And in that moment of helplessness… she lost.
Ayaan scored the final point.
"I win," he declared, a victorious grin spreading across his face. "Looks like you're starting to regret that commitment of yours."
But Aarshi said nothing.
Not a single word.
Because for the first time in her life—she had lost a badminton match.
And that loss didn't just sting… it struck her pride.
Her silence said everything.
Ayaan, standing there, drenched in sweat, caught his breath slowly. Yet behind his teasing smile, another thought lingered in his mind.
He had never faced a player like Aarshi before.
She hadn't tired. She hadn't faltered. She hadn't made a single careless mistake till the very end.
And deep down, he knew—
if her glasses hadn't fallen… she would have been the one standing victorious.
But instead of admitting it, he continued teasing her, a playful smirk never leaving his face.
Aarshi, burning with anger, turned sharply and walked back into the house. The sound of her footsteps echoed with frustration, and when she reached her room, she slammed the door shut with such force that even Ayaan, standing at a distance, flinched at the sound.
Inside, her anger spilled over. Her face flushed red as she buried her head into the bed again and again, as if trying to drown the humiliation.
Time passed.
Slowly, her breathing steadied. The storm within her began to settle. And when her mind finally calmed, she gathered herself, accepted the loss—at least outwardly—and stepped back into the hall.
The moment Ayaan saw her, a different kind of smile appeared on his face—softer, almost teasing in a gentler way.
"Ice cream?" he asked casually.
Aarshi gave no response.
His smile alone was enough to irritate her further. Without looking at him, she grabbed the TV remote from the table, switched channels impatiently, and finally settled on a cartoon. Then, instead of sitting properly, she dropped down onto the floor, facing the TV, her back slightly turned toward him—her anger still very much alive.
Ayaan couldn't help it.
He smiled.
Quietly, he walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and returned with an ice cream popsicle. Sitting down beside her on the floor, he held it out toward her.
"Here."
No response.
Aarshi didn't even look at him.
Sighing dramatically, Ayaan tried again—this time bringing the popsicle closer to her lips, almost forcing her to take a bite.
But Aarshi remained stubborn, unmoving, her silence louder than any words.
Ayaan leaned back slightly, pretending to think. "Hmm… looks like the break is getting too long?"
Still nothing.
Then, with a deliberate tone, he added, "Or maybe you're actually tired. That's why you don't want to play the last round… because you already know I'm going to win."
That did it.
Aarshi turned her head sharply, glaring at him.
Ayaan raised an eyebrow innocently. "What? You don't want to play the last round?"
"Last round?" she finally spoke, her voice edged with irritation. "What last round?"
"There's still one left," he said casually, as if it had always been obvious. "Come on, let's play."
In truth, he knew exactly what he was doing.
This wasn't about the match anymore—it was about bringing her back, pulling her out of that silent frustration.
And slowly… it worked.
After a brief pause, Aarshi snatched the popsicle from his hand, accepting it without a word. She finished it quietly, her anger melting away with each bite.
Then she stood up.
"Let's go."
The match resumed.
This time, her focus was sharper, her movements quicker, her determination fiercer than before.
And in the end—
Aarshi won.
A triumphant spark lit up her face as she turned toward Ayaan, immediately beginning to tease him, her earlier silence replaced with playful mockery.
"Oh? What happened?" she said, a proud smile forming. "I thought you were going to win."
Ayaan watched her, and instead of arguing back, he simply smiled.
Because seeing her like this—happy, lively, teasing him without restraint—
felt unexpectedly… good.
Even if he had let her win just to lift her spirits, the joy on her face made it worth it.
And for the first time, her nagging didn't annoy him—
it made him smile.