AUTHOR'S POV :

EVENT DAY

The entire venue buzzed with excitement as students and faculty rushed about, making final preparations.

While the professors were well aware of the chief guest's identity, the students remained completely in the dark, their curiosity only heightening the anticipation.

As the final arrangements fell into place, everyone gathered in the grand hall, taking their designated seats.

The lights dimmed, casting a soft glow over the audience, and an expectant hush settled in the air.

Behind the stage, the performers stood ready, hearts pounding in nervous excitement, waiting for the evening's festivities to begin.

A sudden silence swept through the auditorium as the grand doors swung open. The principal entered first, stepping aside with a reverent nod.

And then, under the gaze of hundreds, a man strode in ,dressed in an immaculate white tuxedo paired with matching pants, a gleaming Rolex adorning his wrist.

Flanked by two imposing bodyguards, he exuded an aura of effortless power and charisma.

The spotlight shifted to him the moment he stepped forward. A collective gasp rippled through the hall before erupting into a deafening cheer.

He was none other than Devansh Ahuja, the heartthrob of millions and the pride of Indian cricket.

On stage, Aarvi stood poised behind the microphone, a bouquet clutched delicately in her hands.

The thunderous applause echoed in her ears, pulling her from her thoughts. She lifted her head, and the moment her gaze landed on the man beneath the brilliant light, her breath hitched.

She was utterly spellbound.

Tall and commanding, he carried himself with effortless grace. His broad shoulders and sculpted frame made his pristine white tuxedo appear tailor-made for royalty.

His skin was a warm, fair tone, and his dark brown hair ,richer than mahogany ,fell in effortless waves, complementing his equally deep, enigmatic eyes.

He looked nothing short of a film star, exuding a raw, magnetic charm.

Yet, while the rest of the hall roared his name, Aarvi remained still, uncomprehending.

She had, of course, heard of Devansh Ahuja, quite the celebrated cricketer, a household name across the country.

But she had never seen his face before. Social media had never intrigued her, and she had never been one to watch cricket matches.

And so, while the world around her erupted in awe and admiration, she stood in quiet wonder, gazing at the man everyone seemed to worship.

"He is... handsome."

The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them. Even she was surprised by the strange flutter in her stomach, an unfamiliar ticklish sensation that made her feel oddly unsettled.

She had never complimented a man before,especially not a complete stranger, someone who was, for all she knew, entirely out of reach.

Meanwhile, Devansh walked alongside the principal, his posture composed as he made his way toward the front of the auditorium.

Taking his designated seat on the stage, he listened as the head professor of the cultural department took the microphone.

Aarvi stood quietly behind her, oblivious to the storm brewing within her own heart.

"I am honored and delighted to announce the name of our esteemed chief guest, though I doubt he needs any introduction.

So, with a resounding round of applause, please welcome the young superstar of Indian cricket, the pride of our nation, Mr. Devansh Ahuja!"

Thunderous applause erupted throughout the hall.

Aarvi stood frozen in place, her mind reeling. She had never seen his face before, yet his name was impossible to miss.

A cricket sensation, a national icon, girls swooned over him, endlessly praising his charm and breathtaking looks.

'I mean... he is indeed very hot,' her subconscious teased.

Realizing where her thoughts were straying, she lightly smacked her forehead, trying to compose herself.

Just then, Devansh's gaze shifted towards the stage. He noticed a slight movement behind the anchor and barely had time to register it before his name was called.

"Please welcome Mr. Devansh on stage as we honor him with a memento and bouquet."

Rising from his seat, Devansh ascended the steps with effortless grace.

With every step he took, Aarvi's heartbeat quickened, an unfamiliar anticipation building inside her.

The anchor continued, "And now, I would like to invite this year's graduation topper, Miss Aarvi Kaur, to do the honors. She, too, is an alumnus of this institution and the pride of her batch."

At the mention of her name, Devansh instinctively turned his gaze from the crowd to the stage.

Then he saw her.

At first, she remained a silhouette, her figure barely discernible against the dimly lit hall.

But as she stepped into the glow of the spotlight, he felt his breath catch.

She moved toward him with quiet confidence, the soft fabric of her attire flowing gracefully around her.

Draped in a graceful black saree, Aarvi looked effortlessly elegant, and devastatingly alluring.

Her pear-shaped body, full and feminine at the hips, flowed into a narrow waist, and the saree hugged her in all the right places.

The deep cut of her blouse revealed a beautifully defined collarbone, delicate yet pronounced, while the soft lighting accentuated the sharp angles of her jawline ,a contrast of fragility and fire.

There was a subtle sensuality in her presence, unintentional yet magnetic, and Devansh found it increasingly difficult to tear his eyes away from her.

She stood just a few inches away from him, close enough to hold his gaze despite the significant height difference.

Yet, her eyes flickered uncertainly sometimes resting on the silver embroidery of his collar, sometimes drifting toward the murmuring crowd.

Her neatly styled hair cascaded over her shoulders, complementing the silver earrings and delicate watch adorning her wrist.

The combination lent her an air of timeless sophistication. And though she tried, she couldn't quite meet his eyes.

A sudden announcement from the anchor snapped them both out of the moment, drawing their attention back to their surroundings.

"So, Aarvi, please present the bouquet first," the anchor declared.

Aarvi lifted her gaze with noticeable effort, her eyes finally locking onto his. She was not one to be shy,confidence came naturally to her, whether on stage or in a crowd.

Yet, standing before him, she felt an unfamiliar flutter, as though he had effortlessly stolen all her self-assurance.

"Welcome to our college, sir," she said, offering the bouquet with a slight bow of her head.

He accepted it with a polite nod, but a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. "Thank you, Miss...?" he trailed off, realizing he had forgotten the name the anchor had mentioned.

"Aarvi. Aarvi Kaur," she supplied, her voice steady ,looking into his eyes deeply.

His lips curved into a charming smile. "Yes, thank you, Miss Kaur," he replied without breaking the eye contact either.

She acknowledged him with a slight nod and a soft smile. Though subtle, the deep dimples that framed her cheeks made their presence known.

Just then, a student approached, handing Aarvi a memento to present. She accepted it gracefully, the same quiet smile lingering on her lips.

As she turned toward Devansh, their eyes met once more. For a fleeting second, time seemed to still ,because in those deep brown eyes, mirroring her own shade, there was something undeniably familiar. Something unspoken.

She extended the memento toward him, and he accepted it with a slight bow of his head.

The simple yet graceful gesture brought a soft smile to her lips, revealing the full depth of her dimples.

Seeing them, he found himself momentarily captivated, his gaze lingering in quiet admiration.

The crowd, already resentful of Aarvi, simmered with even greater jealousy.

They had never liked her before, and now they had yet another reason to despise her. But did she care? Not at all. Did she fear their resentment? Ah, never.

She might be reserved, even silent at times, but fragile? Far from it.

After handing over the memento, the photographer requested them to pose for a picture.

They turned toward the camera, standing side by side.

As the shutter clicked, their hands brushed ever so slightly ,a fleeting touch, yet one that sent an unexpected ripple through both of them.

Devansh, in that brief moment, stole a side glance at her before returning his gaze to the lens, a subtle smile curving his lips.

After the photograph was taken, they exchanged a final greeting.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, sir," Aarvi said politely.

"Likewise, Miss Kaur," he replied with composed warmth.

And just like that, their paths diverged.

Aarvi disappeared backstage while Devansh returned to his seat among the audience.

The event continued, filled with performances some vibrant, some mesmerizing. Devansh clapped for each one, his expression pleasant and appreciative.

Yet, despite the talent on display, none of the performers held the same quiet allure as the girl who had handed him the memento.

He wasn’t infatuated, nor was it love at first sight. But there was something about her,the elegance in her presence, the charm in her aura, and that shy yet enchanting smile that lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.

By the time the function ended, Devansh obliged a few eager students with selfies and autographs before making his way out.

But not once did he catch another glimpse of Aarvi.

With a quiet sigh, he finally left the college, his thoughts carrying an unexpected imprint of a girl he barely knew.

Author's Pov :

"Dad"

Aarvi entered her house and headed straight for her father.

He was seated comfortably with his evening tea, engrossed in something on his phone.

"Yes, Aaru?" he greeted her with a warm smile.

"Dad, I have something to show you," she said, a mysterious glint in her eyes.

Her father raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her unusual excitement.

Aarvi was not someone who typically took interest in many things, and she had been reluctant about today's event. What had happened to make her so cheerful and energetic?

She unlocked her phone and handed it to him, showing a picture where she was presenting a bouquet to someone.

The image was taken from behind the person, concealing his face.

A proud smile crossed her father's lips as he looked at the picture. She exuded confidence, and he loved seeing that side of her.

"Very good, Aaru. But who is this person receiving the bouquet?" he asked, trying to decipher the mystery.

Aarvi smirked and swiped to the next photo.

Her father's eyes widened in shock.

"Aaru...!" he gasped.

"Yes, Dad?" she replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"He's... he's Devansh Ahuja, right?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

Being an avid cricket enthusiast, her father had immense admiration for Devansh Ahuja-the young cricket sensation of India.

And now, here he was, standing beside his own daughter in the photograph.

"Yes, Dad," she confirmed playfully. "Devansh Ahuja, the youngest heartthrob of India-according to you all."

"He certainly is! But... in your college?" he questioned, still processing the revelation.

"Yes, he was our chief guest today. He also happens to be one of our college trustees," she explained.

"Oh, that's wonderful." Her father nodded approvingly. "You know, beta, you're lucky. Even though you don't follow cricket, you're still an Indian.

And he represents India on the grandest stages-you should be proud of that."

Aarvi listened intently, contemplating his words before nodding in agreement.

After chatting a little longer, she retired to her room. The moment she stepped into the shower, her mind began replaying the day's events.

And most of all, it lingered on him-the brown-eyed man with tousled brown hair.

Even after her long, refreshing shower, he hadn't left her thoughts.

Later, after finishing dinner, she retreated to her balcony, curling up with a novel in her hands.

But even as she read, a certain someone's presence refused to fade from her mind.

“So here is the first encounter of the couple!! This is not going to be a fairy tale I am telling in very prior!! But indeed a steaming, heartbreaking yet a beautiful love story to be unfold!

So stay connected!!

Love from the author ❤