Lift Encounter

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Aashna rushed through the crowded corridors of St. Victoria University, her pink kurta billowing behind her as she weaved between students. Her jhumkas swayed with each hurried step, the tiny bells tinkling softly, drowned out by the chaos of the morning rush. Her long brown hair, usually neatly tied, had begun to loosen from its braid, strands falling over her face as she huffed in frustration.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the strap of her tote bag. Her Literature professor was a stickler for punctuality, and she had already pushed her luck too many times.

The elevator doors were just ahead. Relief washed over her for a split second—until she saw the crowd huddled inside. A dozen students, pressed together like sardines, eager to make it to their respective classes without the burden of stairs. The silver doors began to close, and panic surged in Aashna’s chest.

“Oh, come on!” she gasped and made a final sprint, reaching out her hand in desperation.

Just as she thought she would miss it, a hand shot out from inside, halting the closing doors with ease. Aashna stumbled slightly, catching herself before looking up.

The first thing she noticed was the hand itself—strong, veins visible under tanned skin, fingers adorned with a simple silver ring. Then, her gaze traveled upward to meet a pair of dark eyes, deep and unreadable.

Dhruvin Deshmukh.

He didn’t recognize her. Not surprising—St. Victoria was a massive university, and he barely paid attention to faces beyond his immediate circle. But something about her caught his eye. Maybe it was the way she barged in breathless, pink kurta swaying, or the slight frown on her face as if the universe had personally inconvenienced her. Either way, she had his attention now.

“Are you getting in or just staring?” His voice was low, amused.

Snapping out of her daze, Aashna stepped inside quickly, murmuring, “Thanks.” She kept her gaze forward, acting as if nothing unusual had happened, as if her heart hadn’t just skipped a beat from the intensity of his gaze.

Dhruvin watched her, leaning against the elevator wall with his hands shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie. She smelled like fresh jasmine and old books, a scent so oddly comforting that he found himself inhaling just a little deeper. Her pink kurta, simple yet elegant, complemented her skin tone, and her jhumkas—tiny silver and pink danglers—moved slightly every time she shifted her head.

He had never seen her before. Or maybe he had, in passing, but never like this—never close enough to notice the tiny details. The way she tugged at the strap of her tote bag. The impatient tapping of her foot. The way she blew a stray strand of hair from her face, her lips pursing slightly. Small details, but captivating nonetheless.

“Running late?” His voice was barely above a murmur, meant only for her ears.

Aashna blinked, looking up at him, startled that he was addressing her. “Uh… yeah,” she answered hesitantly, adjusting the sleeve of her kurta. “Had a late night reading.”

Dhruvin smirked. “Of course you did.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that it makes sense.” He shrugged lazily. “You look like someone who reads a lot.”

Aashna’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t even know me.”

Dhruvin tilted his head, intrigued by her reaction. “Not yet.”

Aashna opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the fourth floor. The crowd began to shuffle out, creating space between them. She took a step forward, eager to make her escape.

Just before stepping out, she turned slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her. Dhruvin still stood in the elevator, hands in pockets, his dark gaze fixed on her as if he were committing this moment to memory.

She looked away first, shaking off the strange feeling creeping up her spine, and walked towards her class.

Dhruvin exhaled through his nose, a small chuckle escaping him. He had held that elevator door open on instinct, but now, he was glad he had.

Maybe being late wasn’t always a bad thing.

❤️❤️❤️

Author’s Note

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