"We want to see ourselves in your eyes only."
── ??☆?? ──
Anvi Mathew, a final-year engineering student with big dreams and high aspirations for her future, is not just a diligent student but also an unapologetically silly and passionate fangirl of...
And, the same way again, my dream broke into million pieces at the very climax of the plot. No. I need to get my head out of these fan fictions or I am not getting done with anything in the real life and so I got down from my bed and glanced at the clock, need to get ready so that I don't have to rush out for the train.
Today, I definitely made sure I don't forget to wear my pendant, even though it costed a lot because of being it of pure gold but the reddish tinted pink rose design was my favorite and as I have a habit of always wearing a pendant, I always keep this securely with me.
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I was clicking picture of myself in front of the mirror in my outfit when my mother strictly said not to wear the shirt without tugging the whole in because 'you are going for study, not fashion.'
And, that's why I had to properly and neatly tugged in the whole pink shirt inside my white bottom.
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The last bell had rung a while ago, and the lecture hall was almost empty except for our little group, sprawled lazily on the stone steps outside the computer science building. The air was thick with the late morning heat, but not unbearably so — the kind that made you want to lie on your back and stare at the sky, talking nonsense with your favorite people.
I kicked off my shoes and let my feet rest on Roshni's lap and leaned against Zara who engulfed me in a side hug. The grass beneath was still a little damp from last night's rain. "Okay, listen, listen," I said, waving my hands as if I were conducting an orchestra. "We have to plan this properly. Durga Puja's in, like, almost three weeks and we'll blink and it'll be gone."
Roshni stretched out next to me, arms supported behind in the grass, sunglasses still on even though we were half in the shade. "What's to plan? We hop pandals, eat a stupid amount of food, take 700 photos of you and Zara. Done."
Zara rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "Excuse you, those photos are public service. Our outfits deserve documentation." She sat cross-legged, her skirt fanned out perfectly like she was about to be photographed for a magazine.
Aryan was scrolling through something on his phone, thumb lazy, posture casual—but I noticed the way he looked up when I spoke. Always half-present, always watching. "You've clearly forgotten how crowded it gets. We'll lose Vivek within two seconds of stepping into Santosh Mitra Square." Aryan complete sand earned a glare from Vivek.
