Amaira stepped inside the house, her bag slinging around her shoulder. Her head? Somewhere else entirely.

Her fingers twitched, as if still feeling the slight brush of his hand. She shook her head, cheeks tingling.

Just as she was about to step out of her dazed spiral-

BAM!

The door almost hit her in the face as Dhruv barged in behind her, acting like he just returned from the tuition, tired.

Amaira stumbled, caught herself on the wall, turned with narrowed eyes, and-

SMACK!

Right on his arm.

"Andha ho gya hai kya? Dekh ke nhi chal sakta!" she snapped, rubbing her forehead.

Dhruv winced dramatically, clutching his arm. "Ha toh darwaze ke samne kyu khadi thi. Hat jati"

Amaira shot him a look, cheeks still a little flushed from earlier.

"Gadha kahi ka" she muttered

He raised a brow, narrowing his eyes "Behra nhi hu me. Sab sunai de rha hai"

"Ha toh tere sunne ke liye hi kaha hai maine"

He rolled his eyes and marched inside while muttering something about her being a fool.

Later around evening, the door creaked open and walked Prakash Gupta, shirt sleeves rolled, bag flung lazily on one shoulder, and something wrapped in an old newspaper clutched carefully in his hand.

Amaira and Dhruv were sitting on the couch, pretending to mind their own business, but their eyes immediately flickered to the mysterious parcel.

Something about a newspaper-wrapped item from their father screamed drama.

But that wasn't the only alarm going off in the house.

Their mother, Sunita Gupta, was stomping around the kitchen like it was a war zone.

The pressure cooker whistle sounded like a battle cry, and even the sabzi was getting stirred like it owed her money.

Dhruv whispered, "Maa aaj full gusse me lag rhi hai"

Amaira smirked. "Pakka papa ne koi choti-moti galti ki hai... ya fir badi."

Just then, their father placed the newspaper parcel on the side table like it was a fragile explosive.

Dhruv mouthed to Amaira, "Ab toh dekhna hi padega. Suspense badh gaya hai."

But before they could move an inch, Prakash narrowed his eyes like a hawk. "Aur suno... agar kisi ne bhi woh paper khola na, dono ka phone phirse chhin lunga"

That hit harder than expected.

Prakash then turned towards Dhruv "Tune apna homework kiya hai?"

Dhruv instantly stood up from the couch, pretending to help his mother and disappeared into the kitchen.

After a hilariously awkward dinner filled with clinking plates, stolen glances, and silence so sharp it could cut steel, Amaira and Dhruv retreat to their room-still whispering and chuckling about how their mother didn't utter a single word to their father but made sure he got half a roti less.

Power move.

Prakash Gupta stays back.

The plates are still there. The silence still lingers. And his wife, is by the sink-tied-back hair, washing dishes like the plates had personally offended her.

Prakash watches for a moment, then quietly steps beside her, grabbing a wet plate to help.

Before he could even finish rinsing one...

"Aap rehne dijiye. Koi jarurat nhi hai." She didn't even look up.

Prakash, knowing exactly what happened, but still on a mission

"But help karne me kya jata hai?"

No response. Not even a glance.

And then... the secret weapon.

He pulls the newspaper parcel from the counter. Slowly, gently, he unwraps it.

The soft fragrance immediately fills the kitchen-gajra and fresh white lilies.

Her favorite.

But she doesn't turn. She doesn't move. She's still washing dishes, though her hands does slow a little.

So, with the calm audacity of a man deeply in love, he steps closer.

She can feel him now-his quiet warmth, his presence-no touching, no words. Just air and heat between them.

He lifts the gajra, brushes her tied hair ever so gently, and wraps it carefully around her bun. Then comes the lily-he tucks it beside her ear.

Still no words. Still no touch. But her breath hitches.

And then, he leans in just a bit more, his lips dangerously close to her ear, his breath teasing the nape of her neck, and says softly-

"Sunita ji, gussa theek hai... par ab toh maaf kar do, aapki awaj sune bina pura din adhura tha"

She freezes.

Dishes forgotten. Time frozen.

She still doesn't turn around, but the corner of her lips twitches. The smallest smile. The one only he knows.

And then-she turns.

Eyes still avoiding his.

But her cheeks? Rosy, as the first time he brought her flowers back in '04.

She's blushing. Like a newly married bride.

Even after two decades, two kids, and five thousand arguments.

She gently adjusts the gajra around her bun, trying to act normal-but the soft smile on her lips betrays her.

He notices.

Before he can even help her with the dishes again, she mutters-

"Aap thak gaye honge... kaam se aaye hai, chhodiye yeh sab."

He just shrugs like it's nothing. "Are thaka hoon, toh kya hua? Aap bhi toh thak jate hai"

She tries not to smile. Fails.

Still, she gently nudges his hand away from the sink. "Main kar lungi-"

Before she can protest further, he picks up a cloth and starts drying the plates she washes. Silent teamwork.

She doesn't stop him again.

Because she knows-this is love.

Not the grand gestures, not the dramatic apologies-just standing beside each other, after a long day, drying plates and sharing silence.

He looks at her once, towel in hand, and whispers-

"Shaadi ke itne saal baad bhi, aap utni hi khubsurat lagti hai, jaise pehle lagti thi. Wahi noor, wahi hasi-"

She blushes and smacks his arm with a wet hand. Water splashes on his shirt.

He let out a dramatic "Ow"

"Aur wahi maar abhi bhi" he says rubbing his arm. They both laugh.

And in that moment-they're not just husband and wife.They're best friends, old lovers, and home to each other.

_______________________________________________

(AUTHOR'S NOTE IMP : So before you start, let me tell you that Dhruv, Amaira, Avni and Aditya are in same school since they are siblings but Nikhil and Kashish are together in another school.)

The next morning, Amaira adjusted the strap of her school bag, glancing sideways at her brother who—surprisingly—was dressed in full uniform today.

White shirt, tie, shoes polished so much that they could blind someone.

She squinted at him suspiciously.

"Tu suspension pe tha na? Ye aaj yeh full VIP ban ke kaha ja rha hai?"

Dhruv just shrugged with a cool smirk.

"Principal ne personally bulaya hai, didi. Message aaya tha group me."

He said it like he was called for some national award.

Amaira blinked at him but didn’t question further.

Both started walking toward the school gate, the summer sun gleaming on the iron rods.

And right there, standing like the king of the world, was Principal Sir—hands behind his back, smiling wide at the students entering.

Dhruv caught that smile directed specifically at him.

He slowed down, leaned a little towards Amaira and muttered under his breath,

"Inki toh hasi mein hi scam lag rha hai"

Amaira tried to hide her laugh behind a fake cough as Dhruv stiffened like a soldier marching into enemy territory.

After the school assembly, Dhruv stepped inside the classroom.

Right there, standing miserably in front of the blackboard like she was awaiting execution, was Avni Verma.

She threw him a helpless glance that screamed, "RUN WHILE YOU CAN."

Before Dhruv could even think about it, the teacher—who was taking attendance like nothing was wrong—waved him over.

"Dhruv, jao, jaake Avni ke saath khade ho jao."

Dhruv dragged his feet like a prisoner to the gallows, standing beside Avni.

He leaned in slightly and muttered under his breath,

"Subah jo mujhe smile di thi na principal ne, tabhi samajh gaya tha kuch toh gadbad hai."

Avni snorted, whispering back,

"Tujhe bhi?"

Dhruv blinked at her, scandalized.

"Kya matlab 'tujhe bhi'?!"

She nodded solemnly,

"Mujhe bhi subah smile di thi..."

Dhruv groaned, head dropping slightly.

Both of them shared a look that said "Lag gaye."

And right then—as if summoned by the forces of chaos itself—entered Principal Sir, hands clasped behind his back, looking ready to drop a nuclear bomb.

The whole class stood up greeting him 'Good morning'.

Principal cleared his throat, voice booming,

"From today onwards, these two bright students will be your CLASS MONITORS."

The words echoed in the room like a bad horror movie announcement.

You could hear a pin drop. Even the fan's creaking slowed down in fear.

Dhruv and Avni stood there, frozen, expressions screaming betrayal, fear, existential crisis.

The class?

Shock. Silence. Pity.

Dhruv couldn’t hold it in anymore as he spoke

"Sir... aap aisi behki behki baatein kyun kar rahe hai?"

The class burst into muffled giggles while Avni elbowed him hard.

But Principal Sir?

Unbothered. Unmoved. Like a stone statue of doom.

"Behki nahi, sahi baatein kar raha hoon. Tum dono sambhaloge ab class ko. Agar shor hua, punishment tum dono ke naam."

As soon as Principal Sir left, Dhruv and Avni barely had time to process their death sentence when their eyes caught the old class monitors — Ritu and Ayush — sitting pretty on the third bench.

And smirking.

DEVILISHLY.

Avni muttered under her breath,

"Dekh rha hai? In logo ke chehre pe khushi dikh rahi hai tujhe??"

Dhruv hissed back,

"Haan bhai, jaise hum dono ki arthi nikalne aaye ho yeh log."

Ritu crossed her arms and gave them a mock sad face,

"All the best, Avni."

Ayush added, deadpan,

"Get ready, Dhruv. Kyuki jo humne saha tha na, tum dono ke saath uska double hoga."

Avni gaped at them.

Dhruv?

Dhruv just dramatically clutched his heart like he'd been shot.

"Bhagwan ke liye daya karo, hum jaise shareef logo ke saath atyachar karke kuch nhi milega," he whined.

But the class had already started grinning, the mischief sparking in their eyes.

Because everyone remembered how much Dhruv and Avni tortured Ritu and Ayush before.

Random noise making, fake complaints, secretly sticking 'kick me' notes behind their backs...

And now?

THE TABLES HAD TURNED.

___________________________________________

Amaira sat on her bench, eyes open but her soul? GONE.

The teacher’s voice was a distant background noise, a soft buzzing she barely registered.

In her mind?

She was replaying that moment —

The way Nikhil’s hand brushed against hers when he took the pen.

The way his fingers lightly touched hers — accidentally, but her heart had decided it was a LIFETIME EVENT.

And when he leaned closer to explain the equation...

His voice so close...

His hair falling slightly over his forehead.

The casual smirk when she solved it right...

She smiled like an idiot staring at her open notebook, completely zoning out, the words of trigonometry dancing like little hearts around her.

Until — THWACK!

A chalk hit straight on her forehead — PERFECT AIM.

"Ouch!" she yelped, jerking up like she was electrocuted.

The whole class burst out laughing.

Standing there, blinking, confused, clutching her forehead like it was a battlefield injury —

Amaira looked up to see her teacher, arms crossed, glaring like a disappointed parent.

"Raat ko sapne nahi aate kya, Amaira? Jo din mein dekh rahi ho?"

The laughter DOUBLED.

Amaira, cheeks red like tomatoes, wanted to evaporate right there and then.

She quickly mumbled an apology and sat down, covering her face with her notebook.

And guess who had the biggest smirk in the room?

Aditya Verma, sitting behind her.

He leaned a little from his bench, tapping his pen on her desk and whispering just loud enough

"Kya chal raha tha? Sapno mein Sharma ji ka beta aa gaya tha kya?"

Amaira gave him a deadly glare, but it only made him chuckle harder.

Inside though?

She was dying.

All because of one small brush of hand.

___________________________________________

The moment the bell rang, declaring it a free period, the class broke into a full-fledged fish market.

Some were shouting, some throwing paper planes, and someone at the back was even beating the desk like a drum.

At the front, Dhruv stood, arms crossed, his forehead already creasing in frustration.

Beside him, Avni blew a strand of hair away from her face and shouted,

"Shant ho jao sab log!"

No one listened. In fact, a few started cheering louder. Dhruv looked at Avni with a dead expression.

"Monitor ki koi ijjat hai ya nhi?" he muttered.

The whole class shouted "Nahii"

Just then, Ritu and Ayush, the ex-monitors, smirked from their seats like villains watching and high-fiving.

"Chalo bhai, principal ke paas chalte hain. Hum resign kar rahe hain." Dhruv Said to Ayush

Ayush crossed his arms "Itne me hi thak gye?"

Ritu laughed, "Arey nahi bhai, humne bohot jhela hai. Ab tum dono ka number hai, hum toh retired life jeeyenge."

The class giggled.

Finally giving up, Dhruv grabbed a piece of chalk and announced,

"Naam likhe jaenge board pe. Phir dekhte hain kaise bachte ho!"

Avni stormed up to the blackboard and picked up the chalk.

But just as she raised her hand, she paused and blinked. Turning slightly towards Dhruv, she whispered,

"Thoda weird nahi lag raha? Board pe pehli baar humare alawa kisi aur ka naam likha jayega…"

Dhruv glanced at her with mock seriousness,

"Zamana badal gaya hai, Avni. Hume bhi badalna chaiye"

Thus began the ultimate revenge list.

Miraculously, as they kept writing names, the class actually started quieting down, realizing these two weren't joking anymore.

A minute later, the door creaked open and a strict-looking teacher entered.

The class turned into literal statues.

Before the teacher could walk in fully, Avni casually leaned against the blackboard, subtly trying to block it.

Dhruv, on the other side, coughed loudly and — Swoosh! — wiped the board clean with the edge of his sleeve.

The teacher raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Sab shaant kaise?" the teacher asked.

"Discipline ke wajah se, sir," Dhruv said, giving his best angelic smile.

Avni nodded vigorously beside him, trying not to burst out laughing.

The class collectively sighed in relief, some even mouthing a "thank you" to their new, confused but kind monitors.

Outside the class, peeking from the window, the Principal stood silently — arms crossed, a satisfied smirk playing on his face.

But little did he know — he might’ve recruited fire to fight fire, because these two storms just learned how to wear halos.

____________________________________________

After the final bell rang, the school gates buzzed with energy as students poured out like a river set free.

Among them, Dhruv, Avni, Amaira, and Aditya made their way to the street, their bags swinging lazily on their backs.

Dhruv—always the loud one—was animatedly waving his arms as he declared,

"Aaj se hum dono, yani main Avni Verma, iss class ke naye monitor hain!"

Avni added proudly, puffing her chest up like a little peacock,

"Discipline aur Shaanti ka doosra naam — Avni aur Dhruv!"

Hearing this, Amaira and Aditya, slightly more sensible ones among the group, stopped dead in their tracks.

"Kyaaaa?" Amaira squealed, her mouth half-open.

Aditya widened his eyes dramatically and exclaimed,

"Bas ab toh school ka anth samajho! Yeh dono? Monitors?!"

Dhruv winked,

"Bhaiya, principal ne personally class me aake hume monitor banaya hai."

Amaira interjected, "Lagta hai sir ke mathe pe chot aayi hai"

Dhruv immediately retorted back, "Tu chup reh"

All four of them laughed, loud and carefree, walking down the street until suddenly, the divine sight of a pani puri vendor parked outside the school caught their attention.

"Oye panipuri!" Dhruv yelled as if he had spotted a treasure chest.

Without wasting a second, he and Avni sprinted towards the stall like kids who had been starved for days.

Amaira giggled and followed, while Aditya stood back, arms folded stiffly.

"Mujhe nahi khana yaar. Street ka khana pet kharab karta hai," he muttered, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Dhruv, already stuffing a puri into his mouth, mumbled through it,

"Kuch nhi hota bhaiya, zeher nhi milaya hai inhone"

Avni chimed in,

"Aditya bhaiya, ek plate kha lo, immunity badhegi!"

Rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself, Aditya stayed back, watching the madness unfold.

Amaira, meanwhile, ordered her plate and was served a particularly gigantic puri, one that barely fit into her mouth.

Carefully balancing it, she stuffed the entire puri in one go— her cheeks puffed up adorably like a hamster hoarding food.

And just at that precise moment, fate decided to play its cards.

Cycling casually down the road was Nikhil Sharma —hair messy from the win in his school uniform, lost in his own world.

But then his gaze caught her.

There she was — Amaira Gupta — cheeks bulging, eyes wide, looking at him like she’d been caught robbing a bank.

For a second, the world paused for him.

Nikhil blinked once.

Then twice.

And before he could help it, a chuckle escaped his lips— not mocking, not teasing—

but the soft, involuntary kind, the kind that bubbles up when you see something ridiculously cute.

"Kitni pyaari hai yaar ye," he thought, still smiling to himself.

Amaira, catching him looking, panicked hard.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

She spun around instantly, practically diving behind Dhruv's smaller frame to hide her embarrassment.

Nikhil, still half-lost watching her, forgot to look where he was going—and narrowly avoided crashing his cycle into a small boy crossing the road with a chocolate in his hand!

Nikhil braked hard, the cycle screeching to a halt just in time.

The kid gave him a dirty glare, dramatically dusting off his school shirt.

Then, in a tone loud enough for the entire street to hear, he said,

"In aashiqon ne road bhi nahi chhoda romance karne ke liye!"

For a moment, there was stunned silence on the street.

Then— Laughter exploded.

The pani puri vendor leaned on his cart, laughing so hard he had to wipe his hands on his apron.

Even some passing students clutched their stomachs, giggling uncontrollably.

And right there, standing like a statue, Amaira felt her soul leave her body.

Her cheeks burned hotter than the sun, and without a second thought, she slapped both her hands across her face, hiding the world—and more importantly, hiding herself—from existence.

Dhruv and Avni were no help either.

Avni was half-bent over, laughing like a maniac, while Dhruv wiped imaginary tears from his eyes, gasping,

"Bhai kya scene tha! Epic!"

Meanwhile, standing a few steps away, Aditya simply crossed his arms, watching everything unfold with a slow, devilish smirk stretching across his face.

His eyes flickered from the red-faced Amaira trying to turn invisible, to the awkward Nikhil pedaling away, pretending nothing happened.

"Isko toh tuition me dekhta hu me," he thought wickedly.

But no matter how much Nikhil acted casual, he couldn't stop the tiny smile that played on his lips— because deep inside, even he couldn't deny it.

Amaira, cheeks stuffed, trying to hide shyly behind her friends...had looked way too cute for his heart to handle.

"Yaar Sharma, control yourself" he muttered before leaving.