TWO

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AUTHOR'S POV

The golden fingers of early morning sunlight peeked through the floral curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The world outside was just beginning to stir-birds chirping faintly, the air still kissed with a slight chill. But inside, in the middle of a cozy, pastel-hued bedroom, a girl lay wrapped like a burrito in her blanket, lost in dreams that danced somewhere between fairytales and chaos.

Isha Tiwari.

The drama queen certified by her best friend, and known in her family for being the reigning champion of "five more minutes" snoozes. She looked absolutely angelic in her sleep-messy hair splayed across her pillow, cheeks flushed slightly with sleep, and the faintest pout on her lips. Peaceful, still, and definitely unaware of the storm about to break downstairs

"ISHAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" her mother's voice thundered from below, sharp and crystal-clear-almost like an alarm clock custom-made by the universe to annoy her.

Isha groaned as if the very heavens had betrayed her. Her eyes shot open, annoyance flashing in them like lightning. She sat up dramatically, blanket still clinging to her like a lifeline. "Haan haan uth gayi meri maa!" she shouted back in full volume, voice half-grumpy, half-sarcastic.

With the grace of a very sleepy panda, she dragged herself to the bathroom, glaring at her toothbrush like it owed her something. After the brushing war, she stepped into a hot shower, letting the water pour over her like it could wash away responsibilities. For a full ten minutes, she just stood there, contemplating everything from life to why shampoo bottles always fell at the worst time.

Finally emerging, fresh and slightly more human, she slipped into a breezy kurti paired with jeans. She looked at herself in the mirror, tied her hair into a loose braid, and gave her reflection a confident nod. "You got this," she told herself-though what "this" was, she hadn't exactly figured out yet.

Bag on her shoulder, shoes on, and a dash of perfume later, she descended the stairs like a queen arriving at court.

In the living room, her family was already gathered. Her eyes lit up at the sight of her grandfather, Rajesh Tiwari, sitting with his morning newspaper and glasses perched low on his nose. She walked over and hugged him tightly, inhaling the comforting scent of him-warmth, mint, and old-world love.

Then she turned to her father, Suresh Tiwari, who was sipping his chai and checking the news on his phone. Isha leaned down and planted a kiss on his cheek. He gave her a soft smile, pretending not to melt every time his daughter did that.

But the real warzone was the kitchen.

"Good morning mummaaaa!" she called out, walking in with a giant grin.

Ananya Tiwari turned from the stove, one eyebrow raised and the ladle in her hand looking suspiciously like a weapon. "Ho gayi teri subha?" she asked, mock anger dripping from every syllable.

Isha flashed her brightest, most innocent smile. "Haaaaa!" she shouted, stuck her tongue out, and ran out of the kitchen like a criminal on the run, her laughter echoing behind her.

Breakfast was its usual circus-Rajesh complaining about the news, Suresh trying to sneak extra sugar into his tea, Ananya bossing everyone around, and Isha making everything ten times more chaotic. But she loved every bit of it.

After stuffing her face with paratha and butter, she grabbed her things and headed out.

College.

A word that sounded boring until you factored in her best friend, potential gossip, and one very annoying playboy.

As she walked into the campus. The buzz of student life hit her like a wave-groups chatting loudly, professors rushing across the lawn, and a guy trying (and failing) to impress girls by beatboxing near the cafeteria. Typical.

Just as she approached her classroom building, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her from behind.

"Boo!" came the familiar voice.

Isha smiled instantly. "Ayuuuu! You weren't supposed to be here today! You had a fever, na?" she asked, turning around.

Ayushi Khanna, wearing her oversized hoodie and mischief in her eyes, grinned. "Please! Like I'd leave you to survive this jungle alone? You'd be so bored without me."

Isha dramatically wiped away a fake tear.

They giggled and began walking together toward class-until fate, in the form of a very unwanted person, decided to intervene.

Sunny.

Ah, Sunny. The college's walking red flag.

Handsome? Yes. Rich? Probably. Personality? Trash.

He stepped in front of them, flashing what he thought was a charming smile. "Hi, beautiful," he said, holding out his hand like he was at some fancy award ceremony.

Isha looked at his hand, then folded hers with all the sass she could muster. "Namaste," she said coldly.

His jaw twitched.

He turned to Ayushi and offered his hand again. But Ayu, queen of dramatics, flicked her hair and said, "Time nahi hai bhai," before grabbing Isha's hand and dramatically pulling her away.

Isha turned once more and caught Sunny's fuming face. She smirked.

Boil, Sunny. Boil.

The rest of the day passed in a blur-lectures, giggles, scribbled notes, and a particularly awful canteen samosa. By the time classes ended, she was running on willpower and caffeine.

She returned home late in the afternoon, opened the door, and immediately tossed her bag to the floor like it had personally offended her. Without a word, she collapsed onto her bed face-first.

The mattress felt like clouds. Her limbs were sore, her brain fried, and all she wanted was peace. But even with the comfort of her room surrounding her, her thoughts wouldn't sit still.

After lying there for a while, she let out a dramatic sigh and rolled off the bed like a log. She walked to the washroom, splashed cold water on her face, and stared at herself in the mirror. " I'm look like a ghost," she told her reflection. "A very fashionable ghost."

She changed into her favorite oversized T-shirt and the softest pajama pants known to mankind. Now dressed like a true warrior of laziness, she floated downstairs, hoping dinner was ready.

Thankfully, it was.

She sat with her family, munching on sabzi-roti, occasionally chuckling at Dad's old jokes and stealing bites from her grandfather's plate.

Later, she curled up next to her mother on the sofa, both of them chatting about everything and nothing. Her mother asked how her day went.

Isha just smiled. "Normal," she said. But her heart held stories.

After a while, she kissed her mom goodnight and went back to her room. The moment she entered, a calm hush enveloped her. She switched off the lights, crawled into bed, and hugged her pillow.

The day had been loud. Fun. Crazy. Draining.

...She switched off the lights, crawled into bed, and hugged her pillow.

The day had been loud. Fun. Crazy. Draining.

But in the darkness of her room, with only the faint moonlight slipping in through the curtains, everything slowed down. She closed her eyes, her thoughts still slightly buzzing-random scenes from the day flickering like a messy slideshow: Ayushi's hug, Sunny's stupid face, her mom's teasing voice, the comfort of her father's smile.

She turned to her side, adjusting the blanket up to her chin. Her pillow felt cool against her cheek, her body slowly sinking into the mattress as if every bone was exhaling.

A yawn escaped her lips, long and lazy.

The fan above spun lazily. A soft breeze swayed the curtains. And in that stillness, her heartbeat slowed.

Soon, her breathing became deeper.

Softer.

Slower.

Sleep tiptoed into the room like a shy visitor, gently wrapping its arms around her. Her fingers loosened their grip on the pillow. The furrow on her forehead disappeared. A slight smile tugged at her lips-peaceful and childlike.

And just like that... Isha drifted off to sleep.

Peaceful.

Dreaming.

Unaware that tomorrow, like always, had its own story waiting for her.

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