It Started With A Mistake

10. Can I Go Now, Senior?

It was the first week of November. The weather had switched moods—cold winds brushing past cheeks, hoodies replacing half-sleeves, and everyone suddenly carrying thermos flasks like trophies.

The project with the seniors? Just a memory now. A good one, but still... over.

In its place: a flood of assignments, lab submissions, and the ever-creeping dread of practical exams. College felt like survival mode. Mornings blurred into nights, and the library became everyone's second home.

But in the middle of all that chaos... a few things didn't change.

The buzz from the college basketball court echoed through the campus.

Karan and his group were already on the court—black sleeveless jerseys, shorts, sneakers. They were deep into practice, moving in sync. The ball bounced steadily, matching their calls and shouts.

Karan looked completely focused. Brows slightly furrowed, veins standing out on his arms as he passed, dribbled, and dunked like it was nothing.

The bleachers weren't too full—just a few students hanging around. A couple of girls sat with notepads, pretending to watch practice, but clearly more interested in the players.

Ananya walked in with Meera and Shruti, each holding a cold drink, still laughing at some meme Shruti had just shown.

She wore a soft beige trouser—wide-legged and flowy—and a crisp white shirt tucked in neatly. Over it, was a cropped knitted vest in a warm camel-and-cream hounds tooth, little boxy. Her white sneakers clicked lightly on the pavement, and her gold hoop earrings glinted subtly when she turned her head.

On the court, Aman spotted them first and waved.

The girls waved back and found a spot on the bleachers. Shruti elbowed Ananya. "At least pretend to look at the court?"

"I'm here, na?" Ananya muttered, eyes still on her phone.

Behind them, a group of girls leaned in, not even trying to lower their voices.

"She doesn't even know what's happening in the game."
"She's just here to stare at him, obviously."
"And those outfits? Bro, she looks like she's going for a fashion show, not watching practice."

Shruti paused mid-sip. "Excuse me?"

One of the girls raised a brow, completely unfazed. "Relax, no offense. Just saying—it's kinda obvious your friend's here to stare at a certain player."

Another leaned in with a smirk. "Want us to show you how to shoot a hoop, princess?"

Meera's grip tightened around her Coke can. "Say that again," she said quietly, "and I swear this drink is going straight into your freshly ironed hair."

The girls just laughed—smug, unbothered. "Aww, temper temper. Did we hit a nerve?"

Their voices had gotten loud enough that a few players turned to look.

Karan paused mid-pass, brows pulling together as he glanced toward the bleachers.

Ananya locked her phone, slipped it into her bag without a word, and pulled the rubber band off her wrist.

In one clean move, she tied her hair up in a loose bun. Then she stood. Calmly.

She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows—slow, steady—and started walking toward the court.

Sneakers squeaked. 

"Hey, Aman bhaiya?" she called out, voice calm but carrying.

Aman blinked, caught mid-dribble. "Yeah?"