Chapter 4: School Days, First Love, and Old Wounds

In the end, the tie was tied for nothing.

I realized it only after Arjun scooped me up and carried me straight to the bathroom, tie and all. My handiwork lay forgotten on the floor.

Afterwards, Arjun carried me to the bathroom to clean up.

He was surprisingly gentle, dabbing my forehead with a wet towel, murmuring soft reassurances. The steam fogged up the mirror, hiding our reflections.

He suddenly lowered his eyes, his breath brushing over the top of my head.

I shivered, feeling vulnerable and cherished all at once. He always knew how to undo me with the smallest gestures.

"Kabir invited us to dinner next week. Are you free?"

His voice broke the spell. I blinked, trying to focus on his words.

"He just opened a lounge he invested in, and invited a bunch of our school friends. You know them all," he explained.

His tone was casual, but I could hear the undercurrent of excitement. Arjun rarely looked forward to social events, so this must be special.

A school reunion, huh.

The thought sent a ripple of anxiety through me. I hadn’t seen some of those people since our wedding.

Did Kabir invite Meera?

Her name echoed in my mind, unbidden. I wondered if Arjun had thought of her too.

I thought for two seconds, then shook my head and declined.

“I don’t think I can make it,” I said, my voice careful, “Too much work this week.”

"Because of the producers’ demands, I had to add an important supporting female character to my script at the last minute."

The truth was, I’d barely slept for days, juggling rewrites and deadlines. My desk was a mess—pages everywhere, highlighters uncapped.

"There are a lot of scenes I’m responsible for that need to be changed. I’m about to join the crew, so I probably won’t have time."

My heart squeezed at the lie, but I couldn’t face the thought of seeing Meera with Arjun.

"Sorry."

I looked away, feeling the familiar sting of disappointment. Would Arjun see through my excuse?

Kabir, Arjun, and my brother were childhood friends.

They’d grown up on the same street—gully cricket, tuition classes, sneaking chaat from the roadside stalls. I was the tagalong, always trying to keep up.

We all went to the same school in Lucknow.

St. Xavier’s was our shared memory. The old banyan tree in the courtyard, the echo of the school bell, the dusty football ground where secrets were whispered.

When I was in Class 9, Arjun was in Class 12.

He was the star senior—smart, handsome, unapproachable. I idolized him from afar, scribbling his name in the margins of my notebooks.

I often hung out with my brother and their group.

They tolerated me, teasing me relentlessly. I never minded, as long as I got to watch Arjun laugh, watch the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Because I secretly liked Arjun, and because I was introverted and slow to warm up,

I mostly listened quietly as everyone joked and chatted.

The canteen always smelled of samosas and chalk dust; I’d watch Arjun laugh with his friends, my heart fluttering like a sparrow. I would silently follow Arjun with my eyes, watching his every move, trying to learn his likes and dislikes.

I memorized his favourite biscuits, the way he always ordered extra green chutney, the books he read. Every detail mattered to me.

Just to get a little closer to him.

Even a single smile, a casual “good morning,” was enough to make my day.

When I took physics exams, I would purposely get a few big questions wrong,

Just to have an excuse to ask Arjun for help.

I’d show up at his house with my textbook, face innocent. He’d sigh, push up his glasses, and patiently explain each step. I’d hang on to every word, my heart thudding in my chest.

Until the next semester, when Meera suddenly transferred into Arjun’s class.

She swept in like a fresh breeze—confident, smart, always surrounded by friends. I shrank further into my shell, intimidated by her brightness.

She had excellent grades and a lively personality. Not only was she an old acquaintance of Arjun, but she quickly fit in with his group of friends.

They laughed together, shared inside jokes. I watched from the sidelines, envy and admiration warring inside me.

But I didn’t expect Meera to come find me alone.

One afternoon, she cornered me in the library, her eyes sparkling with mischief. My hands went clammy, unsure what to expect.

"Priya, do you like Arjun?"

The question landed like a slap. I fumbled for words, my tongue suddenly too big for my mouth.

My eyelashes trembled uncontrollably, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond.

I stared down at my shoes, praying for the ground to swallow me. Had I been so obvious?

No one—not even my brother—knew about my secret crush on Arjun.

It was my most closely guarded secret, written only in my diary, hidden beneath layers of hope and fear.

Meera tilted her head, half-smiling as she looked at me.

Her smile was kind, almost pitying. I felt exposed, vulnerable.

"But Arjun told me he only thinks of you as a little sister."

The words stung. I forced a smile, nodding as if it didn’t matter. Inside, my heart shattered into pieces.

"I’m going to confess to Arjun. If he accepts, then..."

She paused, watching my reaction. I clenched my fists, willing myself not to cry.

"Priya, from now on, don’t use studying as an excuse to get close to Arjun, okay?"

It was a gentle warning, but it felt like an order. I nodded, swallowing my pride. After that, I stopped asking Arjun for help.

After Meera confessed to Arjun,

She even came to me specifically for a "heart-to-heart."

We sat under the banyan tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves. She spoke, her tone earnest.

"I’ve known Arjun since we were little. I transferred schools because of him, and it’s thanks to Arjun that I could transfer to St. Xavier’s for the second semester of Class 12."

Her words were full of history, of shared memories I could never compete with. I listened in silence, feeling smaller by the second.

"I’d planned to be with Arjun after the board exams, but since I got a direct admission, I don’t want to wait anymore."

Her confidence was enviable. I envied her for being able to voice her feelings so openly.

"Little sister, you should focus on your studies."

The words echoed in my mind for months. I poured myself into my books, trying to forget, trying to move on.

After that—

I don’t know why, but Meera and Arjun broke up.

I heard whispers in the corridors, saw them avoiding each other in the canteen. I never dared to ask either of them what happened.

When the song "White Moonlight and Red Mole" became popular,

It played everywhere—on the radio, at every wedding, blaring from rickshaw speakers. The lyrics felt like my own story, bittersweet and unfinished.

At a gathering, everyone talked about first loves.

Kabir laughed and teased:

"Arjun has one. He’s always been single because he’s waiting for someone."

Kabir’s voice was sly, the kind you’d hear from nosy aunties at weddings. His words sent a ripple of laughter through the group. I laughed too, hiding my heartache behind my smile.