The school bell rang loudly, signalling the end of another hectic day at Saraswati Vidya Mandir. The halls were filled with the usual chatter of students excited to head home, to see their friends, or to get on with their evening routine. Among them Riya Deshmukh stood by her locker, adjusting her uniform. Her crisp white shirt and neatly tied-up ponytail gave her an air of perfection—a reputation she had worked hard to maintain throughout her years in school. Always on top of her studies, the head of the class, the captain of the school’s athletics team, and the girl everyone respected.

But today, as she stuffed her books into her bag with a quiet sigh, something felt different. The usual pressure weighed heavily on her chest, but for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was pulling her attention away from her regular routine.

Her eyes wandered across the crowded hallway to a quieter corner where Isha Mehta was packing up her bag slowly. Isha had always been a little different from the others. While Riya’s popularity and assertiveness set her apart in a crowd, Isha seemed like the kind of person who preferred blending in. She was quiet, often sitting alone during breaks, her nose buried in a book or sketchbook. It wasn’t that Isha was unfriendly. In fact, she was known for being gentle and polite. But her lack of social energy made her someone who slipped under the radar—someone you couldn’t quite place, but who still intrigued you from the corner of your eye.

Riya found herself looking at her again. Isha always seemed so calm, so composed. A stark contrast to the hustle of the school’s busy corridors. As Riya walked past, her bag caught on a metal locker corner, sending a stack of books tumbling onto the floor.

"Watch it, you should be more careful," Riya called out, a little exasperated, but her voice softened when she saw Isha immediately crouching down to gather the mess.

Isha’s face flushed pink, and her fingers trembled slightly as she hastily gathered the books and scattered papers. Riya couldn’t help but watch, intrigued by how easily Isha seemed embarrassed by such a small accident. Normally, no one would have even noticed such a thing, but the way Isha hurriedly gathered everything made Riya feel—well, strangely protective.

She sighed. Why am I paying so much attention to her?

Without thinking, Riya bent down and started to help Isha collect the books. She tried to avoid looking at Isha too closely, but there was something about the way she moved, the quiet determination in her posture that seemed almost fragile.

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“You don’t have to, I’m fine,” Isha said softly, glancing up with wide eyes as if she wasn’t used to anyone offering help. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was apologizing for being in the way.

“It’s fine,” Riya replied, her voice softer than usual. She noticed Isha’s discomfort but couldn’t bring herself to pull away. What is this feeling? Why do I care so much about someone like her?

“I can help. You don’t have to rush,” Riya continued, trying to reassure her. She wanted to say more—maybe something comforting—but she couldn’t find the words. She’d never been good at showing vulnerability, not like Isha, whose gentleness seemed to invite closeness, but also, perhaps, guardedness.

There was a brief silence as Riya handed Isha the last book. Isha took it with a small nod, still slightly flushed from the incident. Riya stood up, brushing off her skirt, but she didn’t walk away immediately.

"You’re always so quiet, aren’t you?" Riya asked, though she wasn’t sure why she said it. It wasn’t like her to initiate a conversation with someone so distant. But in that moment, it felt like there was more to Isha than the quiet, reserved girl everyone avoided.

Isha looked up in surprise, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "I’m... not used to talking much," she mumbled, her voice betraying a hint of hesitation. She wasn’t embarrassed; no, it was more like she was used to remaining in the background, not really existing in the space around her.

Riya’s gaze lingered on Isha for a moment longer. What is it about her? The question popped into Riya’s mind unexpectedly, and she found herself lingering in the moment, reluctant to break the fragile stillness that had settled between them.

"I—I just," Riya began, feeling an unusual warmth rising in her chest. "I get it. I guess I'm... used to being noticed. But it must be different for you, huh?"

Isha nodded quietly, her cheeks still tinged with pink. "Yeah. I don’t mind being invisible, I guess," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Invisible. Riya couldn’t help but wonder if Isha actually wanted to be that way. Or if she simply had no choice.

Riya stepped back, suddenly self-conscious. "Well, I should get going. Take care of yourself, alright?" Her voice was gentle, though the words felt like they carried more weight than she intended.

Isha nodded quickly, not quite meeting Riya’s gaze. "Thanks, Riya. I’ll see you around."

As Riya turned to leave, she felt her heart pounding in her chest for reasons she couldn’t explain. I’m not the kind of person to get distracted by others... she thought, but the thought faded as she walked away. There was something about Isha that seemed to linger with her, like a quiet echo she couldn’t escape.

It was strange. Riya couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this... curious about someone.