Today was the day of their tuition.

As they neared the tuition center, Dhruv suddenly slowed down and then completely stopped.

Amaira, lost in her own misery of attending extra classes, almost walked past him before noticing his weird behavior.

"Kya hua? Chal na!" she frowned.

Dhruv rubbed the back of his neck, looking around suspiciously. "Didi..."

She crossed her arms. "Kya chahiye?"

"Mujhe tuition nahi jaana." His voice was dead serious.

Amaira scoffed. "Aur? Tu kya expect kar raha tha, main bhi chhod doon?"

Dhruv leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "Nahi, bas Papa ko mat batana."

Amaira smirked. "Bata dungi. Kya karega?"

Dhruv grinned devilishly. "Main bhi kuch bata sakta hoon."

Amaira raised an eyebrow. "Kya?"

Dhruv pulled out Amaira’s school diary. More specifically, the ‘Parents Signature Required’ section that she had conveniently been hiding.

Amaira’s stomach dropped. "TU PAGAL HAI?! TUJHE YE KAHAN SE MILA?! Ye diary principal office me thi"

Dhruv smirked, twirling her diary on top of his fingers. "Woh School ke peon hai na? He's my second bestfriend"

Amaira clenched her fists. "Tu chahta kya hai?"

"Simple. Bas chup chap tuition jaiye, aur main chup chaap nikal raha hoon."

Amaira narrowed her eyes. "Agar tu pakda gaya toh?"

Dhruv grinned. "Tab tak tu bhi pakdi jaayegi."

Amaira groaned. "Tujhse bada kamina bhai maine aaj tak nahi dekha."

Dhruv patted her shoulder. "Bhai hoon na, itna toh banta hai."

Before she could yell at him, he dashed off, leaving her fuming at the gate.

"DH-RU-VVVVVVV!!!!"

Amaira Gupta hated tuition. Despised it, even.

But here she was, stepping onto the so-called “tuition ground,” all because of her beloved father’s strict parenting policies.

"Acha, fine. Let’s see how bad it is." She sighed, walking through the open area.

And… it wasn’t bad.

In fact, it was nothing like she expected.

Instead of a boring four-walled classroom, the place was fresh, open, and alive.

A double-seated swing stood under a huge tree, rocking gently in the breeze. The ground was covered with grass, making the place feel more like a picnic spot than a tuition center.

The actual teaching area? A semi-open space made of bamboo sticks and bricks. Benches were lined neatly, and in the center stood a man in his 40s with glasses and a slightly mischievous smile—Pradeep Sharma, the tuition teacher.

"Okay..... maybe, not bad. But I still hate that I'm here."

She looked around. A few students were already seated, chatting with each other.

Amaira, however, wasn’t much of a talker.

She wasn’t rude or anything—she just didn’t know how to start a conversation. If someone spoke to her first, she could talk for hours.

So, she quietly sat at the back, observing everything.

"Ah, Amaira Gupta!" he exclaimed seeing her and gestured towards a bench "Welcome, welcome! Come on in and find yourself a seat."

Amaira nodded, mumbling a quiet thank you  before slipping into an empty bench near the middle.

Pradeep Sharma clapped his hands together. "Alright, class! Before we start, let’s do a quick math warm-up!"

A collective groan filled the air.

"No groaning! This is fun, I promise!" he grinned. "Okay. First question—what’s 5x5?"

"25," the students replied in a dull tone.

"Good! What’s 6x6?"

"36," they muttered.

Pradeep Sharma smirked. "Easy, huh? Alright, what’s 19x7?"

The room fell silent. Pin-drop silence. Even the ceiling fan seemed to slow down in shock.

One brave soul took a risk. "Uhh... 121?"

Pradeep raised an eyebrow. "Beta, that’s 11×11."

Another student, visibly sweating, tried their luck. "114?"

Pradeep folded his arms. "Beta, that's 19×6 ."

Amaira sighed and muttered "Sir, yeh Maths ka tuition hai ya KBC ka fast-finger-first round?"

But her muttering was too loud for the entire class to hear and everyone burst into laughter, and even Pradeep couldn’t help but chuckle.

And then— The moment happened.

A boy entered. A boy that made Amaira’s heart do backflips.

He was tall with effortless confidence, his black hair slightly messy like he had run his fingers through it in a rush.

His brown checked shirt was loosely tucked in, and his sleeves were folded up to his elbows.

Warm brown eyes, and the kind of smile that could end careers.

Amaira took one look at him and felt her soul leave her body.

"Kon hai wo?" she mumbled to herself but the girl sitting beside her heard it and replied

"Nikhil Sharma."

Amaira blinked. Wait. Sharma?

Sharma… as in…

Before she could even process it, Pradeep crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"Aree itni jaldi kyu aa gya beta?" his voice laid in sarcasm.

The boy—Nikhil—flashed a lazy smile. "Traffic."

"Traffic?" his father repeated.

Nikhil nodded. "Heavy foot traffic, papa"

A few students snorted.

"Aur ek sec," his father continued, "Kitni baar bola hai tujhe ki class me you'll call me sir not papa"

"But you are my papa," Nikhil pointed out.

"And I am also your teacher."

"Haa toh woh aapka problem hua," Nikhil replied smoothly.

Amaira tried so hard not to laugh.

"You know what?" Pradeep Sharma sighed. "I’m disowning you."

"Great. Tab jau me?"

"Dare you"

"Thought so."

Amaira bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.

He went to his usual seat only to find his good-for-nothing bestfriend, Aditya sitting on it as if he owned the place.

"What the—"

His usual seat. Occupied.And not by a stranger, no. Aditya freaking Verma.

Lounging there like a king on his throne, legs stretched, arm resting on the desk, scrolling through his phone.

Nikhil stormed over, unimpressed.

"Aisa ek jhapad lagaungaa naa, sale. Koi aur seat nhi mili baithne ko"

"Chal na be, seat hi toh hai"

Nikhil narrowed his eyes. "Sirf seat nhi hai, meri seat hai"

"Kyu naam likha hai tera?" Aditya looked into his eyes.

"Haa likha hai" he nodded

Aditya checked the whole bench "Kaha likha hai? Mujhe toh nhi dikh rha"

He took out his marker and wrote his name on the top of the bench. "Dekh ab likha hai"

"Haa toh likhne se kya hota hai? Aise me tere muh pe apna naam likh du , toh tu mera thodi ho jayega" Aditya retorted, not even budging from his place.

But Nikhil's patience was running thin "Last time bol raha hu, uth waha se"

"Make me."

And that’s when it began.

A full-on wrestling match on top of a tuition bench. Nikhil tried to drag Aditya off.

Aditya clung to the edge like his life depended on it.

Until— "NIKHIL! ADITYA! ENOUGH!"

The whole room went silent.

Pradeep Sharma sir stood infront of them, arms crossed, that signature death glare perfectly aimed at the two idiots.

"Sharam karlo dono! Bachho ki tarah lad rhe ho"

Nikhil let go, clearing his throat and casually straightening his shirt.

Aditya smirked, victorious.

So Nikhil did what any mature best friend would do—He shoved Aditya down on the seat and plopped beside him, sulking.

"Bhak saale" Nikhil muttered under his breath.

Aditya leaned closer, grinning. "Still sat beside me though. Pyar toh hai."

Nikhil elbowed him. Silently. Like the clown duo they were.

As the class went on, Amaira found herself struggling to focus.

Her biggest distraction? Nikhil Sharma.

She kept sneaking glances at him—his sharp jawline, the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed when he focused, the way his fingers spun his pen effortlessly.

Her eyes drifted from his hands to his eyes.

Just as she was staring, he looked back. Their eyes met.For a second.

A second where her pen grip tightened so hard, it almost snapped.

Nikhil’s gaze lingered, curious. He tilted his head just slightly, like he noticed.

But before he could process the way her entire soul short-circuited— Thwack.

Aditya smacked him on the back of his head. "Padhai karle, ladkibazi baad me kar lena"

Nikhil scoffed, rubbing his head.

"Abe chup. Bas dekh raha tha"  he said, rolling his eyes, as if he didn’t just make a mental note of a girl with fierce pen grip and stormy eyes.

She whipped her head back to her notebook, acting as if she was deeply interested in whatever nonsense equation was in front of her.

"Aree yaar, ye kya tha?" She screamed internally, gripping her pen so hard she almost broke it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him slightly narrowing his eyes at her

"Abeee yaaarrrrrr usne dekha. Definitely." she shouted internally

She refused to look at him for the rest of the class but her eyes betrayed her thoughts.

___________________________________________

Finally, the class ended.

Students packed their bags, chatting as they left one by one. Amaira was the first to escape.

She grabbed her stuff, practically ran out of there, and didn’t stop walking until she was a safe distance away.

"That was dangerous. Too dangerous." She clutched her bag strap, trying to calm her ridiculously fast heartbeat.

She wasn’t ready for this.

She had never had a crush this intense before.

And definitely not on a tuition teacher’s son.

She sighed. "Bacchi, tu toh gayi."

Meanwhile, back in the tuition area, Aditya slung his bag over one shoulder, stretched like he just survived war, and turned toward Nikhil.

"Chal nikal raha hu me"

"Permission mangne ki jarurat nhi hai, main mana nhi karunga" Nikhil Said with a dismissive hand.

He gave him a deadpanned look "Ae gawar permission nhi mang raha tha, bata raha tha. Terese baat karna hi bekar hai"

He then turned towards Pradeep. "Sir, jaa raha hu me"

Pradeep replied back "Ha ok. Thik se jaana"

Aditya left but Nikhil was in no rush to leave.

Instead of going home, he casually plopped himself onto one of the benches.

And not just sitting normally.

No.

He had his legs pulled up, hands resting behind his head—looking like a lazy king ruling over his kingdom.

Pradeep Sharma, who was cleaning up, narrowed his eyes at his son.

"Kya kar rha hai?"

Nikhil yawned. "Relaxing."

"Uth waha se. Aake help kar"

He didn't even move an inch and that's it his father rolled his eyes, walked over, and–

Smack!

Nikhil let out a dramatic "Ow!" as his father playfully hit the back of his head.

"Get up, Raja Beta. Stop acting like a king and help me clean."

"Child labor," Nikhil muttered, rubbing his head.

"Father’s rights," his dad shot back.

Nikhil groaned but got up anyway, mumbling, "This is why I’m the adopted one."

His father laughed. "Beta, even the orphanage wouldn’t take you back."

As he helped his dad, Nikhil’s mind briefly wandered to the new girl.

"Papa, woh nayi ladki kon thi?" He asked

"Oh woh? She's Amaira Gupta. New admission."

Amaira Gupta.

She was quiet. Observant. And she definitely had been looking at him.

As Nikhil helped his dad stack some books, his mind was still on Amaira.

The way she kept glancing at him.

The way she immediately looked away when he caught her.

The way her grip tightened on her pen as if she was fighting for her life.

A small smirk crept onto his lips.

"Interesting."

Unfortunately, he didn’t realize he said that out loud.

His father, who was wiping the board, froze mid-motion.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head towards his son with a raised eyebrow.

"Interesting?"

Nikhil blinked. "Huh?"

Pradeep crossed his arms. "Kya interesting?"

Nikhil, realizing his mistake, immediately tried to play it cool. "Oh, um….. you papa. Very… interesting."

Pradeep wasn’t buying it.

"Achha, aisa hai?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Kyuki jis tarah se tu use dekh rha tha woh bhi kafi intersting tha"

Nikhil coughed. "Huh—? Me nhi to—"

His father smirked. "Bachpan se janta hoon tujhe, beta. Tere dimag me abhi shayariyan ban rhi hogi."

"Shayari?!" Nikhil looked personally offended. "Papa, please. I have standards."

"Accha?" His father chuckled. "Toh matlab she's not interesting?"

Nikhil hesitated for a second.

Just one second.

And that was enough for Pradeep Sharma to start grinning like a villain.

"Ohooo," he said dramatically. "Mere bete ki aankhon mein sharam. Matlab kuch toh hai."

"Papa—"

"Beta, tu bas bol. Rishta lekar kab jaana hai?"

Nikhil groaned. "Main ja raha hoon yahan se."

Grabbing his bag, he walked away as fast as possible.

Behind him, his father laughed loudly.

"Bye!!!" Nikhil called over his shoulder, ignoring him.

His father shook his head with a smirk.

____________________________________________

Amaira stepped out of the tuition center, her mind preoccupied.

0.1 second. Bas.

But that 0.1 second was enough for her brain to go into an overdrive.

Nikhil Sharma.

"Brown eyes. Wait Kaunsa brown? Chocolate brown? Nahi yaar, wo zyada dark hote hain. Caramel brown? Haan… but caramel bhi golden side pe hota hai." She muttered to herself

Toffee brown?

Amaira frowned. "Toffee brown bhi koi color hota hai kya?" she mumbled to herself.

She was so lost in her color analysis that she didn’t even notice the figure sneaking up behind her.

"Bhooooooo!!"

"AAAAHHH—" Amaira jumped back with a shriek, immediately slapping her hands over her ears like some horror movie heroine.

Before she could process, a familiar voice broke into laughter.

"HAHAHA!!"

She turned around, face fuming, hands clenched. Dhruv stood there, breathless from laughing, holding his stomach.

"Tuuuuu—"

And before he could escape, THWACK! A solid smack landed straight on his head.

"ABBEY?! KYAA YAARR DIDIII???" Dhruv whined, rubbing the spot.

Amaira’s nostrils flared. "Tu na marega kisi din mere hathon se!!"

Dhruv, still laughing, dodged her next slap. "Are majak hi toh tha"

"Tere majak ke chakkar me na heart attack aa jata mereko"

"Waise itni kya gehri soch me gum thi?"

Amaira froze.

Brown eyes.

"Main....N-Nahi toh," she stammered, looking anywhere but at Dhruv.

Dhruv squinted at her suspiciously. "Hmmm... zaroor koi baat hai."

"Zyada soch mat, tera dimaag seh nhi payega" she huffed and walked ahead.

But Dhruv? He wasn’t letting this go so easily but he let it go for now.

They hadn’t even walked a full lane when Dhruv did it again.

He stepped on the back of Amaira’s shoe.

"Pagal hai kya? Koi kaam dhanda nhi hai tereko!" she yelled, turning around dramatically.

Dhruv shrugged with a straight face. "Aree toh maine kya kiya? Pair hi toh rakha. Shakal pe toh nahi maara na?"

Amaira narrowed her eyes. "Tu ruk zara." She bent to fix her shoe, and the moment she stood up—they started fighting in the middle of the road.

Dhruv grabbed a stick from the side of the road like he was about to duel in a mythological drama. "Aao Amaira Devi, aaj ho jaaye Mahayudh!"

Amaira picked up a leaf and said, "Tu jaise kaam ka nahi, waise hi teri talwar bhi kisi kaam ki nhi hai"

They kept running in circles until a scooter uncle passed by and shouted, "Bachoo accident karwana hai kya khud ka?? Jao ghar jao!"

Both froze. Looked at each other.

And? Finally decided to go home

Amaira and Dhruv stepped inside the house, carefully shutting the door behind them.

And the first thing they saw?

Prakash Gupta.

Sitting right in front of them on the couch, legs Crossed, watching another match on the Tv

Amaira froze for a second before quickly schooling her expression. She was not—definitely not—just daydreaming about someone’s brown eyes.

Dhruv, however, blinked twice and then casually cracked his neck, already preparing his next lie.

Prakash’s gaze shifted to Amaira first. "Toh, kaisa raha tuition?"

Amaira shrugged, keeping her face neutral. "Bas theek tha. Normal tuition jaise hi tha."

Prakash narrowed his eyes. "Accha? Kya padha?"

Amaira blinked. "Uh… Maths."

Prakash sighed. "Haan, wahi subject toh fail kiya hai. Yeh bata, kya samajh aaya?"

Amaira panicked before remembering she was a pro at changing topics. "Papa, aapko pata hai? Wahaan ek ladki thi jo sirf teacher ko tang karne ke liye extra questions pooch rahi thi!"

Prakash raised a brow. "Aur ye me jaan ke kya karunga??"

Then Prakash’s gaze shifted to Dhruv. And instantly, his father-radar started buzzing.

Amaira quickly looked away. "Bach gayi."

"Tu bata, Dhruv. Tuition kaisa tha?"

Dhruv stretched his arms lazily and let out a dramatic sigh. "Bas papa, kya bataun. Itna zyada padha diya sir ne ki dimaag hil gaya."

Prakash stared at him. Something seemed off.

"Kya padha?"

Dhruv didn't even hesitate. "Integration"

Silence.

Amaira’s eyes widened in horror.

Prakash slowly leaned forward. "Beta. Tu class 9 me hai."

Dhruv's brain rebooted. "Arre haan, woh toh main future ke liye bata raha tha—"

"Dhruv."

"—matlab basic toh sabko aana chahiye na, papa? Aap toh hamesha kehte ho ki—"

"Dhruv."

Dhruv gulped.

Prakash stared hard, suspicion growing. But before he could dig further, Sunita walked in. "Arre, tum dono aa gaye? Jao, haath mooh dhoke aao, bhook lagi hogi."

Dhruv immediately latched onto the escape route. "Haan haan mummy, bohot bhookh lagi hai!"

He dashed towards his room before his father could interrogate him further.

Amaira, still in shock from his blunder, followed slowly. But not before she heard Prakash muttering, "Yeh dono ek din mujhe pagal karke chhodenge."

____________________________________________