Scroll. Like. Crash

Chp 1:The Scroll before the Storm

Nivya Desai was the kind of girl who turned heads in the hallway even without trying because she was the sports star of the college. While others curated aesthetic lives on Instagram or gossiped in between lectures, she lived in her own slightly chaotic, slightly beautiful world-wedged between early morning swim practices, engineering submissions she barely understood, impulsive and way too emotionally attached to her godfather's (neighbor) bike.

She was weird in the kind of way that made people unsure if she was quiet or simply unpredictable. Her friends said she could switch between "dead inside" and "feral animal lover" in the span of two minutes. Her professors said she had potential, but they weren't sure in what. And she... well, she mostly said, "Pass mark bandre channagide."

(Translate:passing is enough for me)

Last Friday evening, Nivya lay on her bed in her oversized "National Aquatic Meet 2023" t-shirt, scrolling through Instagram like it owed her an answer to life. Her hair, still slightly wet from practice, clung to her cheek while her Bioethics textbook lay ignored beside her.

Her feed was the usual blend of books, memes, puppies, and bike reels. Until something made her thumb freeze.

A reel.

No filter, no flexing caption...Just a guy-perched on a Royal Enfield Bullet, helmet slung off one handlebar and a smirk that felt like it knew something the world didn't.

She blinked.
And blinked again.
Who is this guy?

Her curiosity got the better of her. She tapped the profile.
@Vihaan.bullet
Name: Vihaan
Kannadiga.
Engineer.
Rides more than he speaks.
Lives on caffeine and playlists.
Followers: 1.04k
Mutuals: 10

10 mutuals and the reel had likes of all her friends and mutuals?!

Curiosity got better of her so she checked..more like stalked his account. Most were fellow bikers, college fest people, engineering dudes and random accounts from her own college circle. The guy was everywhere and yet she'd never noticed him.

She scrolled through his feed. Each photo felt effortless-bikes, trails, candid cooking videos, posts and that laugh. Ugh, that laugh. It showed up in a transition reel where he was wearing his bike gear, mid-laugh and full volume.

She wasn't the crushing type. If anything, she was the ghosting type. But something about this profile made her chest feel oddly warm.

She hovered over the follow button. Froze. Thought about it and instead, stupidly, irrationally-scrolled down to one of his very old posts,an early photo of him on his first Bullet with the caption: "First ride. Still my favorite road."

And then, it happened.
Double tap.
Her heart dropped.
NO. NO. NO. NO.

She had just liked his post from 2022.
She yanked her thumb back like it had burned her. Quickly unliked it. Waited a second. Re-liked it. Then unliked it again. She wasn't even sure what the protocol was in this kind of situation.

She screamed into her pillow.

From the other room, Jashu yelled, "Another online meltdown?"

Nivya shouted back, muffled, "Go away!"

Her cheeks were on fire. She felt like she'd just declared her undying admiration in Morse code and panic.

"He's going to see it," she muttered. "That's it. I've ended my digital reputation."

She locked her screen. Threw the phone onto her desk. Walked to the balcony. Came back.And then checked if he'd seen her story.
He hadn't.

But still-her name would definitely pop up in his notifications now.
Nivya liked your post.
From 2022.

Fantastic.

This wasn't even a crush. She didn't believe in those. It was just... a glitch. A moment. A scroll-spiral. But now it felt real. And weirdly personal.
Because Vihaan wasn't like the other Instagram boys. He wasn't trying too hard. He was just there. With a presence that made her feel like maybe he didn't need to follow the world-he just rode past it.

Nivya sat back down on her bed, now properly spiraling. "I can't even like boys like a normal person," she mumbled.

Eventually, she hit "Follow."
No turning back.

She tried not to check her phone every ten minutes for a notification.

But she did.
Every three.

And then.....

(Pls do vote and comment it gives me moral support to continue)