ROOP

I woke up late. Not because I’m lazy, but because I had the best dream of my life. No, scratch that, the best dream in the history of dreams.

I saw him.

The perfect man.

My dream man.

The one who doesn’t even exist in reality! And no, I’m not going to tell you what happened in that dream. Some things are better kept a mystery.

But here I am now, staring at the clock as the realization sinks in.

I AM LATE FOR UNIVERSITY!

I scrambled out of bed like a soldier on a battlefield, my brain still half-asleep but my body in full panic mode. I grabbed the first outfit my hands touched—a simple but elegant churidar—and threw it on in record time. Snatching up my purse, I bolted out of my room, barely managing to slip my feet into my sandals.

I took the stairs two at a time, my hair still a tangled mess, but that was the least of my worries. My priority right now was to escape the inevitable family drama and get out of the house before another verbal battle ensued.

Too late.

As soon as I reached the dining table, I was greeted with judgmental stares. Everyone was already seated, their expressions ranging from mildly curious to outright amused.

"Itni jaldi kaise uth gayi beta? Aur thodi der so jati" (How did you wake up so early, child? You could have slept a bit longer.) My grandmother’s taunting voice cut through the air like a blade.

I ignored her and sat down in my usual seat, pulling a sandwich from the plate and taking a quick bite.

"Kaam ke liye late ho kar bhi muft ka khana khana hai maharani ko. Aise nahin ki aaj kuch khaye bina hi chale jaye." (Even if you're late for work, you still eat your food for free, Your Highness. It's not like you could leave without eating something today.) She didn’t stop.

I froze mid-bite.

There it was. The daily dose of toxicity, served fresh and hot.

Slowly, I placed the sandwich back on the plate, my appetite evaporating like mist in the morning sun. Without a word, I grabbed my purse, turned on my heel, and walked straight out of the house. The sting of her words followed me, but I refused to let them settle. I was too used to this, too exhausted to react anymore.

As I stepped outside, I inhaled deeply, letting the cool morning air fill my lungs. This was my moment of peace, my escape.

I hopped onto my scooty, kick-started it, and zoomed down the street, finally feeling some semblance of freedom.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

Before I could even register what was happening, a car came out of nowhere and crashed into my scooty.

The impact sent me flying, and I hit the ground with a thud. Pain shot through my elbows and knees as I skidded slightly before coming to a stop.

For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring at the sky, processing what had just happened.

Then, I groaned. "God, why does this always happen to me?! And why, especially when I’m already running late?!"

I rolled onto my side and slowly pushed myself up, wincing as I checked for injuries. My arms were scraped, my knees stung, and my scooty had fresh scratches on its already battle-worn body.

Great. Just great.

I turned to look at the car that had hit me, waiting for the driver to step out and apologize.

But no one did.

The car just sat there, its engine still running, like it was contemplating its life choices.

I narrowed my eyes.

Oh, we’re really doing this today?

Taking a deep breath, I dusted myself off and straightened up, ready to give the driver a piece of my mind.

Late for university? Check.

Ruined morning? Check.

And now, a reckless driver who thought they could hit my scooty and get away with it?

Not on my watch.

ANIRUDH

I rushed out of my car, my heart pounding as I made my way toward the fallen scooty.

And then I saw her.

The scooty girl.

She was... breathtaking.

Big black almond-shaped eyes burned with irritation, her small nose scrunched up in frustration, and her naturally pink lips were pursed, making her look both adorable and intimidating. A few strands of her messy hair framed her face, falling over her forehead, making her look effortlessly beautiful despite her disheveled state.

For a brief second, I just stood there, staring like a fool.

Then her voice snapped me out of my trance.

"Andhe ho kya?" (Are you blind?)

The sharpness in her tone clashed with the sweetness of her voice. There was something oddly obsessive about it—like she was fully consumed by the moment, by her irritation.

I said nothing.

"Aur behra bhi?" (And deaf too?)

She stepped closer, tapped my shoulder, and tilted her head, waiting for a reaction.

I blinked, finally snapping out of my daze.

She stood before me, her gaze sharp and unwavering. Unlike most people who either flinched or hesitated around me, she looked straight into my eyes as if she wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

"Andhe ho kya?" (Are you blind?)

She asked again, her tone firm, her eyebrows arched.

I exhaled, finally speaking.

"Kabhi dekha hai andhe logo ko car chalate hue?" (Have you ever seen a blind person driving a car?)

Her lips parted slightly, her head jerking back in disbelief.

"Oh, so this is your logic?" she huffed, placing her hands on her waist. "I thought you'd make an excuse instead of admitting your mistake, but this is a whole new level of nonsense."

I pressed my lips together, watching her.

She pointed toward her scooty. "Look at what you've done to my scooty! You hit it so hard as if you were performing a Fast and Furious stunt!"

"It’s not that damaged" I muttered.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, so you're a scooty engineer too? I mean, you caused the accident, my scooty got damaged, and now you’ll also decide how much damage is acceptable?"

I sighed and pulled out my wallet, extending some cash toward her. "Here, take this."

I turned to leave, eager to be done with this.

"O hello!"

Her sharp voice halted my steps.

I turned around, watching her march toward me with a look that screamed 'I’m not done with you.'

Without hesitation, she grabbed my hand and shoved the money back into it.

A spark shot through me. A strange sensation that was neither annoyance nor attraction—but something in between.

"Ajeeb aadmi ho tum!" (You’re a strange man!) she snapped, folding her arms. "So you thought you could just give me money, and the matter would be over?"

I just looked at her.

"Do your family members do the same? Make a mistake, throw money, and walk away?"

My jaw clenched slightly.

She clicked her tongue. "Now I get it. For people like you, saying sorry must be so difficult."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "I don’t think I need to say sorry."

"Oh wow!" she threw her hands up. "So, you crashed into me, knocked over my scooty, made me fall onto the road, and you don’t think you need to say sorry?"

I exhaled, trying to keep my patience. "It wasn’t intentional."

"And that’s why saying sorry became optional?"

She scoffed, shaking her head. "People like you think throwing money solves everything."

I stared at her, slightly taken aback by her boldness. Most people wouldn’t dare speak to me like this.

She exhaled, pushing the money into my hand once again. "If you learn to say sorry instead of throwing free money around, it would be better."

Then, without another word, she turned, picked up her scooty, and walked away.

I just stood there.

Frozen.

Processing what had just happened.

No one had ever spoken to me like that before.

I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or… intrigued.

My phone rang, snapping me back to reality.

I answered, still distracted. "Yes?"

A voice on the other end spoke. "Sir, where are you? Mr. Singh is here for the meeting and asking for you."

I checked my watch. Shit. I was late.

"I'm on my way. Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes."

I hung up, exhaling slowly.

I had a meeting to attend. A company to run.

And yet…

As I walked back to my car, I couldn't help but wonder—

Who was that girl?