Khushi POV
Aayushi shrugged, but her eyes were warm. "Okay, we aren't pushing." Then she grinned mischievously. "But if you change your mind, we have options ready."
I laughed, heart twisting. They meant well. They cared. I knew that. But every time someone tried, it hurt — because I felt I will fail them. Hurt them. So I guarded myself.
Still, I looked around, grateful for their warmth. "Thanks, guys. I'm lucky."
We posed for selfies, modeling silly smiles, twirling hair, blowing kisses. The sound of our shared laughter filled the afternoon warmth, chasing away shadows of memory.
I remembered the feeling again—the brush of a gaze. I'd tried to dismiss it, but it settled in my chest like a question without an answer.
The next day the sun rose orange and hopeful. I dressed in a simple top and jeans, nestled Bluetooth earphones around my neck, and headed for the mess.
Inside the canteen's clatter, I scanned tables before landing on my friends. Aayushi waved me over. We shared samosas; they debated assignment topics and professors' hidden quirks. She offered me chai, but I refused, I never liked chai, I prefer cold coffee as my all-time favorite. I drank chai only when I was ill.
"Khushi, you're going to love this new typography module. Can I copy your work if I borrow your style?" Tanya teased.
I flipped through my sketchbook, offering a small show. "Just credit my brain, okay?"
Laughs, nods. A sense of belonging I had built slowly, cautiously, over months.
After breakfast, I stepped onto campus paths, earphones in. Taylor Swift played softly—"Begin Again."
Eyes closed, I inhaled. "....I've been spending the last eight months , thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end...."
As I walked, sunglasses on, I paused. My heart fluttered...
By the song's chorus, I was thinking: "Do I even deserve this? Do I deserve someone who sees past my walls?....."
Words faded. The path in front of my stretched, but when I opened my eyes, I had stepped off the curb—into the middle of the campus road.
I hadn't noticed.
Just then, an arm shot out.
Strong. Firm. Pulling me back.
Taylor's voice warbled.
That line—"Begin again."
Body smashed into warmth, electricity. He had whisked me away — a heartbeat from collision.
His arm held me flat. I realized he was tall—about six feet ten—or at least that's what my stunned mind registered. He braced me close; his other arm wrapped around my waist as one of my ear, from which the earplug came out itself, landed on his chest.
And just like that, the world paused.
My mind whirled in silence. I felt his heartbeat racing under my cheek. His clothing smelled faintly of spice and cold air. I wanted to breathe but couldn't.
"Are you—?" he gasped. I couldn't understand the words. I just sensed urgency.
Did he save me? Was I in danger?
I turned my head to other side in shock—but something inside me whispered: don't let go.
As I turned my head, I saw a car which almost hit me from back.
He did saved me.
Twenty seconds stretched like minutes.
Then a voice cleared its throat. There was someone beside him, staring at us.
"Miss, are you hurt? Miss?" It was our college director—stern voice, hand raised to the car. He looked at the man with something like caution. "Let go of her, please."
The man released me gently.
Something in me missed his warmth. I turned toward our director.
"I'm... I'm fine, sir." I realized I still had my other earphone on—dangling, tangled—around my neck. I pulled it off. The music ended. Silence roared.
The man with less of angered and more of worried eyes said, "WHY WERE YOU WALKING IN THE MIDDLE OF ROAD WITH EARPHONES ON? IF I HADN'T SAVED YOU, YOU COULD HAVE DIED?"
"I am Sorry Sir, I was listening to music, and I don't know how I started walking in middle of road, Thank you... Sir... for saving my life..." I looked up at the tall man who'd saved me while my hand were still shivering. He shook his head, hand resting by his side.
Before I could process his face, the director spoke.
"Student," he said, tone official, "this is Mr. Luca Volkov—the principal investor in the college. You should thank him properly."
My throat closed. Luca Volkov. Paper name. Real presence. I don't know why I loved that name.
I met his eyes — dark, worried, sharp.
He nodded gently toward me. Concern was real in his expression.
I swallowed hard.
"I... thank you, Luca sir," I whispered.
He gave a small bow of his head.
My heart pounded whirlwinds.
The director glanced at the car and then at me. "Get checked at the infirmary. Don't skip classes again."
I nodded, stunned.
Luca gestured director to go and do the rest of his work. The director went away.
Once we were alone, I pressed a hand to my chest.
Memories roared: laughter, failed friendships, broken promises, love lost. I exhaled.
He silently waited at the edge of the path—strong silhouette, perfectly calm.
"Angel, are you okay?" he prompted softly, politely.
"I'm okay," I said, voice small.
He studied me. "Are you sure?"
I nodded, tears pricking. "Yes."
His hand reached my face, his thumb rubbed my cheek to wipe away my tear.
I looked up at him surprised.
Then he stepped aside. Hand on his chest—a gesture I would later realize was instinctive.
And walked away into the afternoon sun.
I watched him go.
A man as needed as the sunlight.
A hero without cloak.
"A guy who doesn't belong," I thought, shaken.
I wondered—was this fate?
Was my curse... beginning to break?
Then I remembered, he called me "angel". I was too stunned to react at that time but now when I remember him calling me angel, I felt butterflies in my stomach for a second, but then I thought of all the hurt and pain.
I shrugged off whatever has happened till now and look at my smart watch. It was past 9 am. I was late. I ran towards my department building for my class.
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Hey guys, thank you for reading this part. I am a big Taylor Swift fan so her songs needed to be mentioned in the novel, it's a compulsion😉😎
Stay tuned to know how Luca and Khushi life are going to revolve around each other.
Don't forget to like for the chapter and leave your reviews in the comment section.
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