Chapter 4: Wanting the Impossible

That’s right.

I wanted Kabir.

From the very first moment I saw him.

When he strode into class with that careless confidence and hair falling over his eyes, all the girls giggled and even the boys sat up straighter. For the first time, I felt a flutter that had nothing to do with marks or exams.

I have to admit, Kabir appeared at just the right time.

In the seventeen years before he showed up, I had only one dream.

When my dad got dead drunk and his fists rained down on me like a storm.

When my mum, in order to save up a marriage fund for my little brother, dragged me at thirteen to be married off to a fifty-year-old, twice-widowed man.

“Get into the best university and escape from here.”

I never forgot—not for a second. I never dared slack off.

Later, even when I could easily get a perfect score on the 2022 CBSE Maths Paper 1,

I knew: India’s best university was firmly within my grasp.

All I had to do was wait for next year’s board exams. One shot, one chance.

But when I looked back on my dusty seventeen years, all I saw was a miserable childhood and a life buried in books. The walls of our two-room flat felt tighter every year, with the ceiling fan creaking and Ma’s voice always calling for chores or tea. Sometimes, a WhatsApp ping from a friend would light up my screen, but I never replied. There was always something to worry about—Ma’s missed calls, neighbours gossiping on the landing.

That day, Star Plus was replaying Shah Rukh Khan’s “Kal Ho Naa Ho.” I stared at that wild, beautiful face on the screen and was lost in thought for a long time. I wondered if life would ever let me have even one filmi moment.

“If only I could fall in love with such a beautiful boy at seventeen.”

And then Kabir appeared.

He was even younger and more beautiful than Shah Rukh in “Kal Ho Naa Ho.”

When he moved, his jersey outlined his lean muscles, stirring my deepest, most secret desires. The way he twirled his keys and grinned, the whole school would pause and stare.

I wanted him, but I couldn’t have him.

Like I said, all my skill points were in studying.

Other than that, I was utterly ordinary, lost in the crowd. My hair never shone, my skin was always sunburnt, and my shoes were always last year’s hand-me-downs.

Someone like Kabir, always the centre of attention, would never spare me a second glance.

But now, Ritika had handed him to me herself. Some part of me felt like a supporting character finally getting a taste of the hero’s world.