After collecting the books she needed, Ishani returned to her dorm and tucked the rest safely into her locker. The day had drained her, but she felt lighter — like something new had begun.
By evening, she'd showered, changed into her casual home tee, and was running a towel through her damp hair when her phone buzzed.
Harsh calling...
Her heart skipped once. She quickly answered."Chip? Got good news," Harsh's voice came through, a little muffled by background sounds. "My boss agreed to take you as a stock refiller. But… you okay with that? It's a bar and café."
Ishani smiled into the receiver. "Yeah, of course. No problem!"
"Cool. Then be ready by eight tonight. I'll come pick you up."
Her lips curved unconsciously. "Alright, eight it is."
Before she could say more, a sudden whisper echoed behind her."Is it Harshhh?"
"Wha—Mary!" Ishani nearly dropped her phone, glaring at the redhead who peeked from behind her shoulder.
Mary broke into laughter. "Relax! You should've seen your face." She leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Sooo… something's brewing between you two already?"
Ishani's eyes widened. "What? No! It's about the part-time job, Mary. It's not even been twenty-four hours—how could there be something? brewing?"
Mary crossed her arms and leaned forward teasingly. "Who knows… sometimes sparks don't need twenty-four hours."
Ishani rolled her eyes and tossed the towel onto the bed. "He just told me to be ready by eight. I don't even know what to wear."
Mary's grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is this your date, darling?"
Ishani exhaled sharply, glaring. "Mary! It's about my job. He said it's some bar—"
"Wait." Mary suddenly straightened, her eyes widening. "Don't tell me it's Blue Cross?"
Ishani paused mid-search in her wardrobe. "I… don't know? He didn't mention the name. Why? is it bad?"
Mary groaned dramatically, clutching her head. "Girl, Blue Cross isn't bad! It's one of the top bars in town — classy, rich clientele, strict rules, and—" she winked, "occasional chance encounters with rich, dangerously hot men."
Ishani burst into a laugh. "Oh my god, stop it!"
Mary grabbed a black crop jacket and a pair of denim jeans from ishani's clothes. "Here, wear this. And skip the bindi this time. Let your hair down."
Ishani raised a brow. "Why? I'm not going there to be a model, Mary. I'm just refilling stock."
Mary turned her by the shoulders, smirking. "Trust me, babe. You'll need it. It's part of the vibe there. And—" she tossed a mascara and a nude lipstick into Ishani's hands, "borrow mine."
Ishani sighed, smiling despite herself. "Fine, fine. You win."
Hours later, the sky turned deep orange fading into dusk. Ishu stood by the window, now fully dressed — hair loose, eyes lined subtly, lips faintly tinted. She looked different. Older. Maybe even a little dangerous.
Her phone buzzed again.
Harsh:Outside. You ready?
Ishani looked at herself one last time in the mirror — and whispered softly, almost like a promise to her reflection,"First step into my new life…"
Ishani clenched her fist in a small, victorious gesture. "Yes!" she whispered to herself before answering.
"Okay then," his voice came through, low and amused. "Get down."
Ishani grabbed her bag, took one last breath, and headed downstairs. The cool night air brushed against her face as she stepped out — and there he was.
Harsh sat astride a sleek black motorbike, his dark helmet catching the dim light of the street. The faint growl of the engine echoed through the parking lot as he revved it once, glancing up at her. With a small tilt of his head, he gestured for her to hop on.
For a moment, she just stood there, hesitating. A bike ride? With him?
She stepped closer, the sound of the engine mixing with the thud of her heartbeat. Slowly, she placed her hand on his shoulder for balance and swung her leg over.
Ishani tapped on his shoulders and said "Hold tight, okay? I'm kinda heavy."
He glanced at her hand, then turned slightly. His voice dropped into a teasing murmur. "Not heavier than my thoughts."
Ishanj froze — her entire body going still. Did he just—?Her cheeks flamed, and she smacked his shoulder lightly. "Shut up, okay?!"
Harsh chuckled, the sound warm and unbothered. "Fine, fine. Here—wear this." He handed her a spare half-helmet.
She put it on, fumbling slightly with the strap, all too aware of the tiny distance between them. Ishu sat carefully on the very edge of the seat, making sure she didn't actually touch him. Her fingers nervously gripped the back edge of the bike.
"Hold tight," he said again, glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "You'll fly off if you don't."
Before she could protest, he twisted the accelerator — and the bike surged forward.
The sudden motion threw her forward, her body pressing against his back instinctively. A small yelp escaped her lips as she grabbed his shirt tight for balance.
Harsh's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glancing at her reflection — her wide eyes, her hair flying, her hands clutching him like she might fall if she let go.
"Better," he said over the roar of the wind.
Ishani couldn't tell if he meant her grip or something else entirely.
The city lights blurred around them as they sped through the streets, the cold wind biting against her cheeks, the scent of his leather jacket faint but intoxicating.
And for the first time, she didn't feel afraid. Just… alive.