Aadhya’s POV
“What’s wrong with you, Jig? Why do you always cancel our plans?” Lis shouted.
“Not always, Lis! Last time, you bailed at the last minute!” Jig fired back. “At least I’m telling you in advance and not making us lose non-refundable tickets like someone did!” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, leaving Lis flustered and embarrassed.
Honestly, I wasn’t too invested in this trip anyway. I was drowning in coursework, so I stayed out of it.
“Enough, guys,” I said, not too loudly, trying to keep the peace.
“We can plan something later, right, Lis?” I added, hoping to calm her down.
Lis wasn’t usually like this, but this trip was special. Our first foreign trip—excluding Nepal, of course. That didn’t really feel like ‘abroad.’ This time, it was Europe. Italy. Since we planned it, Lis had been in her own world, constantly muttering, “Stiamo andando in Italia. Rapiscimi, boss mafioso.”
We didn’t understand much except for boss mafioso, but one thing was clear: this girl was obsessed with mafia stories and probably fantasized about being kidnapped by a handsome don. Delusional much.
Lis was the only child of ridiculously wealthy parents, spoiled beyond reason. She had everything, often before she even realized she wanted it. Popular, adored, the kind of girl everyone wanted as a friend. But she never truly understood what real friendship was—until she met me.
I still remember the first day of college like it was yesterday.
A new place, unfamiliar faces, a world I barely knew—except for one truth:
This college could change your life. It could give you everything… or take it all away.
Most of the students here had powerful connections—family ties to politicians, business tycoons, the country’s elite. It was best to stay out of their way.
As I stepped into the main building, I was struck dumb. This wasn’t a college—this was a goddamn palace. I stared at the massive wall adorned with hundreds of framed portraits, showcasing generations of legacy. To them, it was history. To me, it was a glimpse into a future I hoped to claim.
The bell jolted me back to reality, and I joined the crowd heading to class.
My luck? Just as I reached the door, I saw the professor walking in. Damn it! I rushed forward, slipped inside without a word, and squeezed into the nearest seat—pushing a boy aside in the process.
“Hey, shh, please,” I whispered, hoping he wouldn’t snitch.
The professor eyed me sharply.
“Are you a new student?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come introduce yourself.”
I stood up, heart pounding.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Aadhya... Aadhya Awasthi. I’m 21, and… I’m not exactly fond of talking. So… yeah, that’s me.”
Lame.
“Looks like she’s shy,” a random girl snickered. “Though she does look like a Beggi Tea.” The class burst into laughter.
I had promised myself to stay low-key, avoid drama. But my mouth had a mind of its own.
“Well, people can judge me… but not with faces like yours.” My voice was calm, but the tension in the room spiked.
The professor cleared her throat, diffusing the awkward silence, and told me to sit down.
As I tried to focus on the lecture, I heard a quiet voice beside me.
“Apologize to her… or you’ll regret it.”
“What, is she some politician’s daughter?” I asked, half-amused.
“Not exactly… but her boyfriend is dangerous. The kind of person you don’t even look at. Part of the Bloodline Kings. They’re not just bad… they’re evil. There are rumors they’ve… killed people.”
He spoke like a man who’d seen a ghost.
I didn’t appreciate threats, but I really didn’t want to get tangled in this mess.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Varun Sharma.”
“Well, thanks for the warning, Varun.” I chuckled. He blushed, and we turned our attention back to the class.
Two hours later, my brain was fried. The lectures were way more intense than anything I’d experienced before. As I gathered my things, I noticed a group forming around me—blank stares, tight smiles, some whispering. Varun tapped his foot nervously, clearly uneasy.
And then, like a scene from a Karan Johar movie, they parted, and she appeared. The same girl who’d mocked me earlier. She approached with a queen’s confidence, her eyes sharp, filled with unspoken words.
“Wow, what an entry, girl,” I smirked, genuinely impressed.
They exchanged silent looks, some sort of unspoken communication.
Then she spoke, her tone sweet but laced with something else.
“Hi, I’m Jigyasa. Would you mind having lunch with us?”
Before they could say more, I agreed. Let them wonder why—I had my reasons.
We headed toward the canteen, but then they turned right.
“Isn’t the canteen that way?” I asked, confused. Some of them chuckled.
Jigyasa answered, “We’re going to the private canteen. It’s in the basement—off-limits to most.”
Any sane person would’ve backed off right then. But I wasn’t exactly sane, was I?
We stepped into a private elevator, descending into a world that left me speechless.
What the fudge…
A stunning sight unfolded before me: a grand fountain, an ethereal statue of a motherly figure pouring water from a vase, the space radiating wealth and exclusivity.
Jigyasa smirked. “First time seeing this, huh?”
“Obviously, it’s my first day, girl,” I replied, stating the obvious.
Her tight smile faltered slightly, but she composed herself.
“Let’s go, shall we?”
I knew she was plotting something… and I was more than ready to let her find out who I really was.
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