HELLO CUTIES!
I am writing more of Krisha's pov in modern times and will be writing aryan's pov more in ancient times....
Try to be patient with the story I will be updating whenever I get time 🤍
The story is little long as we are going from modern times to ancient so I have to write in contrast.
And please vote and comment.
Ok bye bye take care 🫶
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Three weeks later :-

Going home with Priti quickly became the best part of the day, Every single afternoon, right around the bridge, we'd encounter the same chaotic, loud group: Aryan and his three inseparable friends. They were a whirlwind of noise ,  shouting jokes, telling curses sometimes, and doing ridiculous wheelies and stuns on their bicycles.

It was always a spectacle. Priti and I would slow down just enough to keep a safe distance, sharing secret, suppressed giggles as we watched their daily performance. They were so unapologetically loud and messy; It was like a private, entertaining show just for us.

Priti, who had quickly become my go-to source for local gossip, filled me in on the neighbourhood history. She used to play with Krish and Samir , two of Aryan's closest friends, because they lived right next door to her in shreesh colony . Now, she said, there was just this strange, quiet awkwardness between them , like they'd grown out of the sandbox phase and didn't know how to cross that new teenage barrier.

Aryan himself lives just a little further down, which explained why we saw their whole entourage so often coming off the main bridge road. It was baffling watching him-the headboy, the school's ideal - get scolded and punished for being late , sometimes even joining his friends in doing sit-ups. They were such bad-boy types, but their energy was undeniably magnetic.

In between all this chaos and laughter, I found myself getting seriously attracted to Aryan. It wasn't the kind of simple, giddy "I have crush"  feeling; It was something far more intense and irresistible, and unknown feeling that churned in my stomach whenever he was near. I just didn't understand it.

As the days passed and the syllabus started demanding more attention, I joined the same private tuition as Pari, the class monitor. This new routine added another dimension to my sightings. Leaving tuition in the early evening, sometimes I'd see Aryan again.
Only this time, he wasn't yelling on a bike; he was walking with a heavy sports bag , sweat glistening from football practice. I learned he wasn't just the captain of the football team, but also excelled in studies and he played the piano really well.

The contrast was incredible: a loud , naughty menace on the road one moment and a serious, talented leader the next. This complexity cemented that strange feeling. He stopped being just a handsome and attractive face and became an idol - someone incredibly cool and talented, someone I just couldn't help but admire. I also want to excel in everything like him.

Even though Priti and I were inseparable on the ride home, a hollow feeling still remained sometimes. I missed my friends, my old school gang, terribly. I have become an introvert in her  i was a really extrovert person back in my old school I missed me..

Priti finally confided in me today about Kiara, her "best friend,"  who always seemed to chose saru, the class topper she called "sister". "It clenches my heart,krisha,"  Priti admitted, yet she firmly believed that real Bestfriends might fight, but they never separate- that "forever" word that binds you together. Her fierce loyalty only sharpened my own longing. I wished desperately for someone in this new school to share that kind of binding certainty with. But again, why would someone be me forever friend? I'm not good enough....

Suddenly, I thought of today's P.E. class. Everyone was running or playing, but Pari Jain, the lively class monitor and renowned yapper, was sitting all alone on a swing. Because I also felt like I didn't belong anywhere yet, I silently took the swing next to hers.

We started talking quietly- about missing old school friends, about our families. It was the strangest, most comfortable thing; something felt instantly close, allowing us to reveal vulnerable things without any fear of judgement. The whole P.E. class flew by. That, was the first time I had talked that closely, that openly, with anyone here, and it was pari jain, the girl one bench ahead of me  whose notes I sometimes quickly copied!

That need to copy her notes was recent. I'd finally gone for an eye check-up and now I had specs.Just when I thought my existing insecurities were full up- now I had this new vulnerability right on my face. But maybe, sitting on that swing with pari today, having a real ,deep conversation with the very person whose notes I sometimes needed, was the beginning.

It felt like an accidental, precious connection, right when I felt the most exposed and alone.

The talk of unit tests quickly dominated the class. Since the seating arrangement paired 8th standard senior with us juniors, most of the girls were whispering, desperately hoping to sit next to a "smart one" for some secret exam help. But I didn't care who I sat beside. This was my first official exam in the new school, and I was determined to score well on my own merit. The week passed in a blue of focused studying, combined with the heavy pressure from teachers and the self-imposed goal- setting of my classmates.

The day the exam finally arrived, the seating chart was posted , and my heart nearly stopped. Aryan was sitting with pari! And my bench was in the line right beside theirs, positioned exactly parallel. I could literally turn my head and see what he wrote on his paper, but the thought of looking over, or even looking at him for too long, made my face burn with shyness. No way was I going to even risk being noticed near him. The exam began, the nervous energy thick in the air.

Each day, the drama unfolded beside me. I watched Aryan talk to his friends, casually ask for extra sheets, and even crack low-key jokes with pari , completely relaxed. He was loud even in the silence of the exam hall. But the strangest thing was this: whenever I had to raise my hand to ask Miss for permission to drink water or get a supplementary sheet, I felt his eyes. He noticed me. It was only brief, a fleeting glance across the aisle, but he definitely noticed me.

Even though I was in my specs, feeling awkward and like I might look "ugly or anything", he still looked. That small, undeniable observation gave me a secret, dizzying thrill I couldn't deny...