STRINGS and STANDOFFS

2: Plot Twist - Same College, Same Chaos

The room was floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Wooden floors polished to perfection. Echoes of Bollywood and ballet past.

Radha had her hair in a high ponytail. She felt more like herself here.

Professor Iyer stood like a soldier, posture sharp as her jawline.

"You will not only dance," she said, pacing. "You will learn why your body moves. Classical meets contemporary here. Grace meets logic."

Kavya saluted. "Ma'am, I move for drama."

Professor Iyer didn't even blink. "Then make it convincing."

She turned to the whiteboard. "By next week, I want short solos. Any style. Tell your story through movement. But no gimmicks. Dance like you mean it."

And guess who was there too?

Anirudh. Tying his shoes. Stretching. A smooth turn in the mirror. God, he was good.

Not that Radha noticed.

Kavya elbowed her. "You're clenching your jaw."

Radha: "It's called control."

Anirudh from across the room,"Try unclenching sometime. Might improve your posture."

Radha,"Try silence. Might improve your face."

*

Group chat-1st Rank,2nd Rank,rizzball

Rizzball: How is Anirudh in ALL your classes?

Radha98%: I made a deal with the devil in my past life clearly.

No_shit _Kavya: Plot twist: you are the devil and he's your rival demon king.

Rizzball: You two need a musical restraining order.

*

Literature & Writing Class

Location: NCU, Department of Literature.

The classroom smelled like old paperbacks and fresh ambition. Rishi plopped down next to Shree, tossing his tote bag aside with a dramatic sigh.

"Do you think they'll make us read, like, Shakespeare today? Because I love that man but I also didn't sleep last night."

Flipping through the syllabus, Shree deadpanned, "It's not even Shakespeare week. Relax. Today's just intros and 'define what writing means to you' trauma bait."

Ashi, from the next bench, leaned over with nervous energy. "Do you think we'll have to... share out loud?"

Rishi says, "God, I hope not. My entire creative writing experience is just romantic poetry I wrote for a girl who ghosted me in 9th."

Shree does not look up, "Still better than the guy who rhymed 'love' with 'dove' twelve times last year."

Rishi snorted, genuinely amused. "How do you know all this stuff? Have you been secretly judging the world through metaphor this whole time?"

Shree smiled small, barely there, but real.

"I observe. You're loud enough to be a one-man podcast."

"That sounds like the nicest insult anyone's ever given me."

Ashi adds,"You two are like a weird buddy comedy no one asked for but everyone secretly loves."

Rishi, dramatic, "We contain multitudes."

"You contain volumes." Shree adds.

The professor walked in just then, calling everyone to attention. But Rishi and Shree exchanged a tiny look, half smirk, half spark.