Chapter 1
KRISHA’S POV
School canteen. Early morning. And unfortunately… too many humans.
I was already half dead because of my coaching classes, so the only thing keeping me emotionally stable at that moment was the hot coffee in my hand.
“Extra strong banana, Uncle,” I had specifically said. (Make it extra strong, Uncle.)
And finally, after waiting for centuries, I got my coffee.
I turned around carefully to go back to my table....
And bumped straight into someone.
The coffee mug slipped from my hand and crashed onto the floor.
For two seconds, I just stared at my destroyed coffee in silence.
Then the anger hit.
“Dekh ke nahi chal sakte aap? Coffee gira di meri!” I snapped angrily. (Can’t you walk properly? You spilled my coffee!)
“Dekh ke tum peeche nahi mudi,” the person replied calmly. (You should’ve looked before turning around.)
I looked up.
Tall. Annoyingly calm. And absolutely shameless.
“To aapka matlab hai main pehle bhooton ki tarah apna sar peeche ghumau, check karu koi peeche khada hai ya nahi, phir mudu?” I said sarcastically. (So according to you, I should turn my head around like a ghost first and check if someone’s standing behind me before moving?)
“Tum itna overreact kyun kar rahi ho? Coffee meri shirt par giri hai. Gussa to mujhe hona chahiye.” (Why are you overreacting so much? The coffee spilled on my shirt. I should be the one getting angry.)
I looked at his shirt.
A few drops of coffee.
Then I looked at the coffee spread across the floor.
“Aur meri coffee ka kya? Jahil insaan. Meri coffee gira di. Paise kaun dega?” (And what about my coffee? Illiterate human. You spilled it. Who’s paying for it now?)
“Coffee meri wajah se nahi, tumhari wajah se giri hai. Dekh ke mudna chahiye.” (The coffee didn’t spill because of me. It spilled because of you. You should watch where you’re turning.)
I crossed my arms.
“Dekhiye, main aapki tarah koi alien nahi hoon jo achanak se kahin bhi prakat ho jaye. Aur na hi mere peeche do aankhein lagi hui hain.” (Look, I’m not some alien like you who appears out of nowhere. And I don’t have extra eyes behind my head either.)
“Dekho—” (Listen—)
“Kuch nahi dekhna mujhe,” I interrupted immediately. “Mujhe meri coffee wapas chahiye. Paise dijiye aap. Subah-subah dimag kharab kar diya.” (I don’t want to listen to anything. I want my coffee back. Pay for it. You ruined my morning.)
He exhaled slowly, clearly losing patience now.
“Galti meri nahi hai. Aur tum jaake kisi acche eye doctor ko dhoondo aur apni aankhein check karwao.” He paused before adding irritably, “Aur hato mere saamne se. Subah-subah maine nahi, tumne mera dimag kharab kiya hai.” (It’s not my fault. And maybe you should find a good eye doctor and get your eyes checked. And move away from in front of me. You’re the one who ruined my morning, not the other way around.)
He turned to leave.
Big mistake.
“Suniye!” I called loudly. (Excuse me!)
He stopped.
“Ek kanjoos tha… bahut kanjoos tha… duniya ka sabse bada kanjoos tha…” I said dramatically. “Lekin chinta mat kijiye. Aapse zyada kanjoos nahi tha. Ek coffee ke paise tak nahi diye ja rahe.” (There once was a miser… a huge miser… the biggest miser in the world… but don’t worry, he still wasn’t as stingy as you. You can’t even pay for one coffee.)
He immediately turned and walked back toward me in quick steps.
Okay.
That was slightly terrifying.
I instinctively stepped back.
“Maine tumse zyada badtameez ladki aaj tak nahi dekhi,” he said angrily, pointing a finger at me. (I’ve never seen a ruder, mannerless girl like you.)
I lifted my chin proudly.
“Aur dekhenge bhi nahi. Main is duniya mein unique piece hoon.” (And you never will. I’m a one-of-a-kind piece.)
He stared at me for a second as if questioning humanity itself.
“Accha hua bhagwan ne tum jaise do-chaar aur parmanu bomb dharti par nahi bheje,” he muttered while turning away. “Warna duniya ka kya hota pata nahi.” (Good thing God didn’t send a few more walking atom bombs like you to Earth. God knows what would’ve happened to this world otherwise.)
And then he walked toward the counter.
Excuse me?
PARMANU BOMB?
“Inhe to main chhodungi nahi,” I thought angrily and marched toward the counter too. (I’m definitely not letting him get away with this.)
He looked at me once.
I gave him the sharpest death stare possible.
“Uncle, ek aur coffee dena,” I said loudly while looking directly at him. “Kisi dhartibojh insaan ne meri coffee gira di.” (Uncle, one more coffee please. Some burden-on-earth human spilled mine.)
The canteen uncle looked nervous.
The irritating man looked shocked.
And I?
I smiled innocently.
“Cappuccino coffee,” he ordered casually.
“Sorry sir,” the canteen uncle said awkwardly. “Ye wali coffee yahan available nahi hai. Aap koi aur order kar lijiye.” (Sorry sir, this coffee isn’t available here. You can order something else.)
“What?” he frowned immediately. “Mujhe yahi wali coffee chahiye. Main har subah yahi peeta hoon.” (What? I want this one only. I drink this every morning.)
I folded my arms dramatically.
“Dusron ka subah-subah dimag khane wale log coffee kyun peete hain…” I mumbled under my breath. (Why do people who annoy others first thing in the morning even drink coffee…)
Unfortunately for me
He heard it.
“Miss, aap zara shant rahengi?” he said, looking at me directly. (Miss, would you please stay quiet for a moment?)
I instantly turned my face away with fake innocence as if I had done absolutely nothing.
“Hatiye,” he suddenly said to the canteen uncle. “Main khud bana leta hoon.” (Move aside. I’ll make it myself.)
Oh wow.
Coffee bhi khud banate hain. Multitalented dhartibojh. (He makes coffee himself too. What a multitalented burden on Earth.)
I stood there watching him make his own coffee like some five-star café employee while acting like the entire world annoyed him.
Honestly… irritating people always carry unnecessary attitude.
Finally, after making his coffee, he turned and started walking away from the counter.
And that was when my brain produced a brilliant idea.
I immediately walked behind him... and deliberately bumped into him.
The coffee spilled directly onto his hand.
A little on my sandal too.
Perfect.
“Ho gaya badla poora,” I said proudly with a satisfied smirk. (Revenge accomplished.)
He looked at me in complete shock.
As if he genuinely couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to do that intentionally.
Oh dear, you’ve seen nothing yet.
I quickly took out my handkerchief and extended it toward him.
For one glorious second, he actually thought I was being nice.
The poor man almost took it.
But just before his fingers touched the handkerchief...
I pulled my hand back.
Then calmly bent down and started cleaning my sandal instead.
When I stood back up, he was still staring at me with the most speechless expression imaginable.
I smirked.
Flipped my hair dramatically.
And walked away like I had just won a national-level revenge competition.
*****
Just then, the bell rang loudly, signaling the beginning of the first lecture.
Finally.
I walked toward my class while mentally preparing myself for the daily headache called “11th A students.”
And as expected...
The moment I entered the classroom, chaos welcomed me warmly.
Some students were throwing paper balls.
Some were literally standing on benches.
And the rest were shouting as if they were conducting a political rally instead of attending school.
“SHUT UP!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Within seconds, the entire class fell silent.
Ah yes.
The power I hold.
I casually walked toward the teacher’s desk and sat on it comfortably because unlike normal students, I valued luxury.
And also because I feared absolutely nobody.
“Mujhe samajh nahi aata tum sabko 10th class mein admission kisne diya,” I started dramatically. “Tum sabko nursery ke bachchon ke saath baithna chahiye. Main post graduate ho gayi hoon tum sabko chup karate karate aur tum logon ne shor machane mein kar li hai PhD.” (I seriously don’t understand who gave you all admission in 10th class. You people belong with nursery kids. I’ve practically completed post-graduation trying to keep you all quiet while you people earned a PhD in making noise.)
The whole class started laughing.
“Seriously, Principal ma’am sahi kehti hain 11th A ke students bahut intelligent hain… lekin harkatein first standard ke bachchon jaisi.” (Seriously, Principal ma’am is right 11th A students are very intelligent… but their behavior is like first graders.)
“Any updates? Janhvi?” I asked while looking at my best friend.
“Haan,” she said excitedly. “Raisinghania sir ka transfer ho gaya.”
(Yeah. Raisinghania sir got transferred.)
For one second, I froze.
Then happiness exploded inside me.
“KYA?!” (WHAT?!)
I immediately jumped down from the desk dramatically.
“Us kachuye (tortoise) ka... Mera matlab… us rhesus monkey… mera matlab… us seengh wale bail Raisinghania sir ka ka transfer ho gaya?!” I almost screamed happily. (That tortoise got transferred… I mean that rhesus monkey… I mean that horned bull Raisinghania sir got transferred?!)
The class burst out laughing.
Honestly, I had invented so many names for that man that even I got confused sometimes.
“Haan,” Janhvi laughed. “Aur ab ek new maths teacher aaye hain. Ab woh humein maths padhayenge.” (Yeah. And now a new maths teacher has joined. He’ll teach us maths now.)
My smile disappeared instantly.
“Hattt,” I said irritably. “Kya matlab naya teacher? Pakka woh bhi us kachuye jaisa hi hoga. Padhana-vadhana kuch nahi hoga. Bas poora lecture chair par baithe rahenge. Aalsiyon ke brand ambassador.” (Ugh. What do you mean new teacher? He’ll definitely be just like that tortoise. Won’t teach anything properly. He’ll just sit on the chair the entire lecture. Brand ambassador of laziness.)
“Waise maine suna hai ye wale sir waise nahi hain,” Janhvi said suspiciously. (But I heard this sir isn’t like that.)
I rolled my eyes dramatically.
“Is school ke saare teachers ek jaise hote hain. Aur jo naye aate hain woh bhi eventually wahi ban jaate hain.” (All teachers in this school are the same. And the new ones eventually become the same too.)
“Lekin imagine karo,” Janhvi grinned mischievously, “agar tumhe ye wale sir pasand aa gaye toh? Favorite teacher ban gaye toh? Tumhara teachers se nafrat karne ka record toot jayega.” (But just imagine… what if you actually end up liking this new sir? What if he becomes your favorite teacher? Your record of hating teachers will break.)
I gasped in fake horror.
“Janhvi,” I said seriously, “don’t forget the word ‘imagine.’”
The whole class started laughing again.
“Us naye maths teacher ko toh main itna pareshan karungi, itni muh pe beizzati karungi…” I continued proudly, completely in my element, “ki woh humein padhana toh chhodo, school hi chhod denge. Main toh keh rahi hoon teaching profession tak quit kar denge.” (I’ll annoy this new maths teacher so much and insult him so badly to his face… that forget teaching us, he’ll leave the entire school. Honestly, I think he’ll quit teaching itself.)
Everyone laughed harder.
“Tum sabko pata hi hai,” I smirked proudly, “main beizzati bhi izzat se karti hoon.” (You all know me. Even my insults come with class.)
“Bas jaan pehchaan hone do meri unse… phir dekhna kaise hawa mein udaati hoon unhe. Waise bhi subah-subah mera dimag already garam ho chuka hai.” (Just let me get introduced to him first… then watch how I then watch how I send him flying with my words. My mood is already ruined this morning anyway.)
But suddenly…
The laughter stopped.
Completely.
The entire class went silent and started staring toward the classroom door with expressions full of shock and fear.
I frowned.
“Abe kya hua? Din mein kisi ullu ke patthe ko dekh liya kya tum logon ne jo aise bhochakke hoke darwaaze ki taraf dekhe jaaaaa....” (What happened? Did you all see some specimen standing there or what, the way you’re staring at the door like...)
I turned toward the classroom door mid-sentence.
And my words got stuck in my throat.
And at that exact moment
I realized two things.
First…
I was dead.
Second…
He had heard everything.
Every. Single. Word.
And the look in his eyes?
Yeah.
This war was officially starting.
To be continued…
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