It Started With A Mistake

4. The Unexpected Pair

It was the next day.

Mid-autumn had a strange mood this morning—the air stuck between leftover summer warmth and the first hint of sweater weather. A few Gul mohar leaves tumbled across the stone pavement as students poured into campus, half of them with jackets shoved deep into their bags.

Karan stood near the lecture hall, hands in his pockets, casually talking to Aman and Rishi. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, neat as ever, and his black watch caught the sunlight just enough to grab attention.

"Yesterday's match was wild," Aman said, stretching slightly. "I still can't believe that three-pointer you pulled off in the last few seconds."

Karan chuckled. "You mean the one after you missed two free throws?"

"Bhai, pressure gets to the best of us," Aman shot back, grinning.

Rishi joined in. "Coach's face was priceless though."

Meanwhile, just a few steps away, Ananya entered the corridor with Meera and Shruti. She hugged a navy blue file to her chest like it contained top-secret information. Her hair swayed in the light breeze, and her friends were still buzzing from the basketball match.

"I swear," Meera began, dramatically clutching her tote, "Karan's dunk in the last five minutes? Felt like we were watching Student of the Year 4."

Shruti smirked. "Tu toh full-on drama mode mein chalti hai."

Then she nudged Ananya. "And this one? Didn't blink. Bilkul statue."

Ananya blinked wide-eyed. "I was just... watching the game."

"You were watching him," they chimed in perfect sync.

"I wasn't!"

"Aur main college ki dean," Meera deadpanned.
(And I'm the college dean.)

The three burst out laughing, even Ananya, though her cheeks turned warm. She hated how easily they could read her. Karan wasn't just a basketball star. There was something about him—quiet, unreadable, intense.

They reached their class and slipped into their usual row. Ananya kept tapping her pen on the desk, trying to act normal. But inside? Butterflies.

Something's gonna happen today. I can feel it...

Professor Mehra walked in just then—early 40s, grey slacks, bottle-green shirt, always looking like he came straight from a staff meeting. His glasses were halfway down his nose, and his tone was the usual mix of chill and unpredictable.

"Settle down!" he called out, placing his laptop bag on the desk. "Today, we're shaking things up."

Students straightened, eyes curious.

"From this semester, you'll be working on a real-world business research project," he announced. "But—" He paused for effect, "—not just among yourselves."

Murmurs shot across the room.

"Are seniors joining us?"

"Is this like an internship?"

"Extra marks toh milenge na?"
(We'll get extra marks, right?)

Mehra smiled like he'd been waiting for that. "Juniors will be paired with seniors. One-on-one. Field work. Real companies. Real reports."

Now he had everyone's attention.

Ananya's stomach twisted slightly. She wasn't nervous about seniors... except maybe one.