The campus hallway buzzed with footsteps, overlapping voices, and the occasional screech of a chair dragged across the floor. Club Orientation Day had transformed the usually quiet second floor into a burst of energy. Doors bore colored paper signs: Drama Club, Photography Circle, Entrepreneurship Cell—each one drawing its own crowd.
Anaya walked with steady steps, fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag. Her heart wasn't exactly racing, but it wasn't still either. She scanned the doorways until her eyes landed on Room 204: Debate & Literature Club.
She paused outside, exhaled, and murmured, "Here we go."
Inside, the room was filling. A few chairs had been arranged in a wide circle, still a bit uneven. The whiteboard at the front was clean, a black marker resting beneath it. About six or seven students were already seated—some flipping through notebooks, others quietly scrolling their phones.
Anaya entered and chose a seat near the window—middle row, third from the left. It gave her a view of both the door and the board. She slid her bag onto the floor, pulled out her pen and notebook, and settled in.
Outside, faint voices echoed in the corridor. She didn't look up—until she heard footsteps pause near the door.
He stepped in.
Pradeep.
Her pen stopped mid-stroke. Fingers curled slightly around it, heart tapping once, then again, a little stronger. She looked up just in time to see him glance across the room, like he was checking how full it was.
He hadn't seen her yet.
But then, their eyes met.
There was no dramatic gasp. No awkward tension. Just a moment of mutual recognition, calm and real.
A flicker of something crossed Pradeep's face—brief surprise, maybe—but it softened quickly into neutrality. A faint blink. Then a small nod.
Anaya returned the gesture, equally subtle. Not quite a smile. Not cold either. Just quiet acknowledgment.
Pradeep moved toward the seats and settled one chair apart from her. He didn't speak. Neither did she.
But the silence between them felt... balanced. Like the air itself had agreed to slow down.
A Few Minutes Earlier – Hallway
Neha had taken the long way upstairs, chatting with a classmate from her History elective. She already knew her club—Community & Outreach—was on the ground floor, but walking helped her think.
As she neared Room 204, her pace slowed. Someone was entering.
She recognized him instantly. The guy who had helped her during the fresher's event.
He stepped into the room, calm and quiet, without any hesitation.
Neha's gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. Then she glanced at the sign posted beside the door:
Debate & Literature Club.
So that's where he belonged.
She didn't stop walking. Just turned the corner and headed for the stairs, but her mind now carried a new detail.
Back in Room 204
By 11:10, all 24 seats were filled. The air felt expectant.
"Alright," said a voice from the doorway, just loud enough to snap attention. "Welcome, everyone."
It was Mr. Bakshi, the club coordinator—a soft-spoken man in his early forties with an unpredictable sense of humor. He walked in holding a marker and a folder stuffed with papers.
"This club exists for those who have opinions," he said, "and the courage to back them up with clarity, evidence, and just the right amount of flair."
A few students chuckled.
"We'll divide into two groups: Debate and Creative Writing. You can be part of both. We'll have intercollege events, regular workshops, and yes, it all counts toward your co-curricular credits."
He began scribbling names on the board. One by one, the students introduced themselves.
Anaya listened quietly, jotting names and interesting points in her notebook. Pradeep didn't speak unless prompted—and when he did, his voice was clear, calm, and precise. Just enough. No drama. No embellishment.
But his presence settled into the room like it belonged.
When it was Anaya's turn, she stood and said simply, "Anaya Sharma, First Year. I'm here mostly for the writing side, but I'd like to try debate too."
Simple. Honest.
She sat back down. And somehow, without turning her head, she could feel that Pradeep was listening.
Later – Canteen
The canteen was busy, a low hum of clinking plates and laughter rising from clusters of students. Anaya spotted her group at their usual table near the window. She walked over, dropping her bag beside Riya and sliding into the bench.
"Finally!" Riya exclaimed, tearing into her samosa. "Did your club make you debate the Oxford Dictionary before letting you out?"
Anaya smiled. "No, but it was packed. Twenty-four people."
"Which club was it again?" asked Tanvi, resting her chin on her palm.
"Debate & Literature."
Neha, mid-bite of her sandwich, paused. "You're in that club?"
Anaya nodded, unscrewing her water bottle. "Yeah. Why?"
Neha tried to sound casual. "No reason. Just... I saw someone going in there earlier. The guy who helped me during the fresher's party. Turns out he's in that club."
Anaya glanced at her, expression unreadable. "Oh?"
Neha nodded, trying not to sound too curious. "Yeah. I didn't know he was in our batch."
"Neither did I," Anaya replied. Her voice was even, but her thoughts had already drifted back to that quiet moment earlier—the nod, the space between them, the subtle calm Pradeep carried with him like a second skin.
Riya leaned back with a stretch. "Well, at least someone's doing something literary. I joined Performing Arts—we literally had to dance during the intro session. In front of strangers!"
"You didn't look like you hated it," Nisha teased. "You were humming Kesariya on the way back."
Riya rolled her eyes. "Only because the guy who led the warm-up was cute."
Tanvi jumped in. "Student Welfare Cell was surprisingly chill. We'll be coordinating blood drives, book banks, and all that. It's hectic, but kind of exciting."
Nisha raised her juice box. "Respect. I joined Photography Circle. Mostly because I don't want to talk to people."
They all laughed.
"What about you, Neha?" Anaya asked gently, looking across the table.
Neha dabbed at her lips with a tissue. "Community & Outreach. They gave us printed planners. I might actually be organized this semester."
"Liar," Riya said, tossing a napkin at her. "You'll still be ten minutes late to everything."
Anaya watched the banter with a fond smile. It felt good to be back here—surrounded by voices she knew, teasing, laughing, making fun of each other like it was the only language they needed.
Then Tanvi turned to her again. "So... tell us more. What was the vibe in your club?"
Anaya leaned back. "Surprisingly calm. The coordinator was good. Everyone seemed serious, but not intense. I think I'll like it."
Riya narrowed her eyes. "Anyone interesting?"
Anaya raised a brow. "Define interesting."
"You know what I mean."
She shrugged, sipping water. "It's too early to say. But yeah... it was nice."
The topic shifted for a few minutes—midterms, missing library cards, and whether the canteen would ever fix their broken fan. But then, as the conversation lulled, Riya nudged Anaya's arm.
"Hey."
Anaya looked up.
Riya tilted her head toward Neha, who was scrolling something on her phone. "Since you're in the same club as her fresher party hero, I'm officially assigning you a mission."
Anaya raised an eyebrow. "Mission?"
"Help her find out who he is. Properly. Not just 'oh he's in that room.' I mean name, course, batch... star sign, if possible."
Anaya laughed. "Why me?"
"Because fate aligned your clubs. Use it."
Neha looked up, eyes widening. "Wait—I didn't—Riya, seriously?"
Riya grinned. "Oh come on. You're curious. Just admit it."
Neha groaned and covered her face. "I'm never telling you anything again."
But everyone was smiling now—even Neha, behind her hands. The table felt warm with shared laughter and a kind of joy that didn't ask for permission.
Anaya glanced out the window, her thoughts already shifting toward Room 204, the whiteboard, the faint sound of a chair being pulled out beside hers.
And the boy who didn't say much—but whose presence always felt like a sentence waiting to be read slowly.
She didn't know what exactly she was meant to do with this "mission." But some part of her... didn't mind it.
Not at all.
---
To be continued....