Ink Meets Lens

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The past few days had slipped into a rhythm of normalcy—at least on the surface. Aashna kept herself buried in books, lectures, and fleeting conversations with Advait and Sia, pretending that Dhruvin Deshmukh didn’t exist. And for the most part, it worked. She had perfected the art of looking right through him whenever they crossed paths on campus, her indifference like a shield she refused to lower. On the other hand, Dhruvin should have moved on too—he usually did. But for some reason, her presence lingered in his mind like an unsolved puzzle. It was frustrating. Annoying, even. He had never been the type to dwell on someone, yet every time he saw a glimpse of long brown hair or heard the distant jingle of jhumkas, his heart did this weird, unfamiliar thing—something dangerously close to softening. He hated it. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

The announcement about the inter-college collaboration had caused quite a stir among students. It wasn’t every day that Literature and Mass Media students were brought together. The master’s students, in particular, saw this as a golden opportunity—building a strong portfolio was essential for them, and having a storytelling competition on their resumes would be a great advantage. On the other hand, Literature students were promised exposure, a chance to see their words brought to life on screen.

Dhruvin arrived early, a rarity for him. He wasn’t the type to linger around before class, but something about today felt different. Dressed in a checkered shirt with sleeves casually rolled up, black jeans, and matching shoes, he looked effortlessly put together. His presence, as always, drew attention.

Girls whispered as he passed by, some stealing glances, others outright staring. He was used to it, indifferent even, but today, he found himself oddly impatient.

Who am I even waiting for?

The answer settled in his chest before his mind could deny it.

“Aaj time par?” A teasing voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Minal.

A Mass Media master's student, one of those people who always seemed to be around. She walked up with an easy smile, nudging his arm slightly. "That’s a first, Dhruvin. What, trying to impress someone?"

He exhaled sharply, half a chuckle, half a dismissal. "Not today, Minal."

He barely looked at her, his gaze unconsciously drifting toward the door. A restlessness simmered under his skin, an odd anticipation he didn’t know how to place.

And then, it happened.

She walked in.

Aashna.

The moment he saw her, everything else dimmed into the background.

She wore a soft baby blue top, fitted but not loud, paired with black jeans. Simple. Effortless. The kind of understated elegance that didn’t demand attention but still drew every eye in the room. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, a few strands slipping over her face before she tucked them behind her ear. Her hoop earrings swayed slightly as she walked, and something about that small movement made him feel—lighter.

As if he had been holding his breath without realizing it.

Dhruvin's lips curled slightly—not a smirk, not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. Something he hadn’t worn in a while.

But just as quickly, the warmth in his chest faded.

Aashna’s eyes found him—and then found Minal next to him.

Her gaze turned unreadable, but he saw it—the momentary flicker of recognition, followed by something colder. Almost resigned.

Of course. Her expression barely changed, but he could feel the thought loud and clear. How typical.

Then, without a word, she looked away and walked past him, choosing a seat near the back.

The lightness he had felt moments ago? Gone.

The classroom buzzed with excitement and mild apprehension as students settled in. The professor, an elderly but sharp man, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, instantly commanding attention.

"As you all know, this competition is an opportunity for both Literature and Mass Media students to collaborate and bring stories to life. The teams have been carefully selected based on individual strengths, ensuring the best possible outcome."

Aashna exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around her pen. Anyone but him, she chanted in her head. Anyone but him.

On the other side of the room, Dhruvin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His mind, however, wasn’t as laid-back as his posture. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Aashna since their last interaction, and now, fate was giving him another chance.

Let it be her. The thought crossed his mind before he could rationalize it.

Professor Mehta scanned the list. “First pair—Advait Singh and Saumya Menon.”

Advait groaned. “Sir, she’s going to kill me before we even start working.”

Saumya smirked, flipping her hair dramatically. “Try to keep up, Advait.”

The class chuckled, while Aashna shot Advait a quick glare that said Behave.

“Next, Manan Thakker and Sia Patel.”

Manan turned to Sia with an exaggerated grin. “Patel, don’t fall in love with me, okay?”

Sia rolled her eyes. “I’d rather fall off a cliff.”

More laughter filled the room, and even Dhruvin cracked a small smile, but Aashna was too tense to notice. The names continued, pairing students she didn’t care about. With each announcement, her silent prayer grew more desperate.

Not him. Not him. Anyone but him.

Dhruvin, on the other hand, had stopped listening to the rest. His jaw tightened slightly. He didn’t care about fate, destiny, or any of that nonsense, but a part of him wanted—no, needed—to be paired with Aashna.

“Next—Aashna Pathak and Dhruvin Deshmukh.”

Her entire body stiffened.

His heart kicked against his ribs.

For a moment, everything in the room faded. The whispered reactions, the side glances, the shifting of chairs—it all blurred into the background as Aashna slowly turned her head toward him.

And there he was.

Watching her with something unreadable in his dark eyes, his lips twitching as if suppressing a reaction.

Aashna clenched her jaw. This cannot be happening.

❤️❤️❤️

Author’s Note

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