The scene was chaotic—branches whipping past her face, her breath ragged, feet pounding against the damp earth.
She was running.
Through thick woods, the canopy above casting shadows that danced and twisted like ghosts. Her long, dark hair flew behind her, partially hiding her face, while her dupatta flailed wildly in the wind. Behind her, footsteps thundered, male voices shouted, rough and urgent. A group of men—chasing her.
The girl didn't stop to look back.
She just ran.
A sharp cry escaped her lips as her foot caught on a rock hidden beneath dry leaves, her body tilting forward—seconds from the ground, from pain, from being caught—
But then, a hand.
Strong, steady, familiar.
She gasped as that hand pulled her back from the fall, his other arm securing around her waist.
The moment froze.
Her face, still partly obscured by strands of hair, turned up toward her savior.
And Rohit's heart skipped a beat.
Time seemed to slow as he tilted his head, trying to see her more clearly. Who was she?
Before he could say anything, she vanished.
A voice called out, faint and far away.
"Rohit..."
Again.
"Rohit…"
Then a gentle tap on his shoulder.
"Rohit, bro…"
Rohit opened his eyes with a small jerk.
The soft yellow lights of Dew Drop Café surrounded him. The quiet indie music in the background, the clinking of cups, and the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee reminded him instantly where he was.
He had fallen asleep.
They had all come here after the match, and somewhere between the second coffee and Manmeet's endless jokes, Rohit had closed his eyes—just for a minute.
Yogesh was sitting beside him, waving a spoon in front of his face.
"Dude, are you dreaming about your crush or what?" he teased with a wicked grin.
Rohit blinked, still shaking off the feeling of that mysterious dream.
"Huh? No, nothing… just tired."
But the shift in his tone didn't go unnoticed.
Across the table, Simran leaned closer to Shubhangi, whispering with a mischievous glint in her eyes,
"Did you see his face? He totally dreamt about someone."
Shubhangi giggled, nodding.
"Maybe his mystery girl finally appeared."
Manmeet, catching onto the mood instantly, slapped the table.
"Aha! Caught red-handed! Rohit is hiding something."
Rohit rolled his eyes, chuckling softly.
"Guys, seriously. There's nothing."
Yogesh smirked.
"Don't give us that green-flag good-boy act. Come on, even monks fall in love."
Simran leaned on the table with a teasing smile.
"Be honest, Rohit. Is there someone? A little someone who makes your heart beat faster?"
Rohit shook his head, smiling politely.
"I don't… I respect every girl. That's all."
"Classic Rohit," Manmeet said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest. "Pure soul. But even pure souls have crushes!"
Shubhangi, sipping her frappe, added, "Okay, then answer this—have you ever had a crush on anyone?"
Rohit hesitated for a second too long.
That was enough fuel for the group.
"See! He paused. HE. PAUSED." Yogesh declared loudly, pointing a finger.
Rohit laughed, finally giving in.
"You guys seriously need a new hobby."
But deep down, something tugged at him.
That dream... the way he had felt holding that girl, the urgency, the way her hair shielded her face… it was intense. Real. Almost too real.
It wasn't like his usual dreams—which were mostly about cricket, assignments, or forgetting his locker code.
This was different.
He couldn't explain it. And that unsettled him.
Meanwhile, the group continued their chatter and laughter, the table buzzing with warmth and friendly teasing. Manmeet started doing impressions of Rohit proposing to an imaginary girl, while Yogesh kept suggesting absurd names like "Mysterious Muskaan" or "Dreamy Dimple."
Simran and Shubhangi kept exchanging knowing glances, fully enjoying the moment.
Rohit, though, smiled quietly and stared down at his now-cold coffee.
For a moment, just a second, he could still feel the softness of that girl's hair brushing against his chin. Her breath. The fear in her body. And his arms catching her.
Who was she?
And why did it feel like more than just a dream?
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The clock outside Dew Drop Café read 8:45 PM when the group finally stepped out into the warm, breezy evening. The air was still tinged with laughter from inside, their stomachs full and hearts fuller.
Manmeet stretched his arms above his head and yawned dramatically.
"Alright, alright. Celebration done. Now go home, cricket stars—take rest. Tomorrow is Day One of the new academic year, and we need our school's heartthrobs alive and fresh."
Simran rolled her eyes.
"Especially you, Manmeet. You're the one who talks the most and reads the least."
"That's called balance," Manmeet replied, grinning. "I spread joy."
Shubhangi smiled. "Yeah, like a WhatsApp forward uncle."
They all laughed again.
"Bye, guys!" Simran waved, walking in the opposite direction with Shubhangi and Manmeet, still chatting and teasing as they headed toward their homes.
That left Rohit and Yogesh, standing under the yellowish glow of the streetlight near the café's gate.
The street ahead was quiet, lined with sleepy trees and the soft hum of distant vehicles. They didn't need to ask which way to go—being neighbours, their paths always matched.
As they walked side by side, the silence settled between them for a while. A peaceful kind of silence.
Yogesh, hands in his pockets, glanced at Rohit.
"So… you're seriously not gonna tell me what that dream was about?"
Rohit shrugged, kicking a small stone along the pavement.
"Don't even remember most of it now. Just... random stuff, I guess."
Yogesh raised an eyebrow but didn't push.
"You've always been a bad liar, you know that?"
Rohit smirked.
"And you've always been dramatic."
"Of course," Yogesh grinned. "Someone's got to bring the spice into your dal-chawal life."
They laughed quietly.
A few seconds passed before Yogesh's tone changed slightly, full of energy again.
"Anyway! New academic year starting tomorrow. Dude, I'm actually excited. New faces. New teachers. Maybe some interesting juniors. You know what I mean."
Rohit rolled his eyes playfully.
"You're impossible."
"I'm just honest," Yogesh said with a wink. "Change is good. I hope we get someone who actually knows how to teach chemistry this time."
"That would be a miracle," Rohit said. "But I'm not hoping for much. Same buildings, same benches, same cycle stand with that one loose pole... I doubt anything big will change."
Yogesh slowed down a bit, his hands still tucked in.
"Sometimes I feel like you don't let yourself enjoy surprises."
Rohit looked at him, confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... you act like you've seen it all. Like you're forty stuck in a seventeen-year-old's body."
Rohit chuckled.
"I just don't expect too much. That way, I don't get disappointed."
"Or maybe you just don't want to let anything unexpected shake your perfect balance," Yogesh said, half-serious now.
Rohit didn't reply to that right away.
Instead, he looked up at the sky. The stars were faint, but visible—like shy witnesses to the boys' late-night walk and quiet thoughts.
Finally, he said, "I like things that are real. I don't go looking for drama."
Yogesh grinned again.
"Well... let's see how long you hold that philosophy, Professor Sharma. Life might have other plans."
They both smiled at that.
As they reached the lane where their homes stood—two middle-class houses with tiled roofs and fading nameplates—they slowed down near the gate.
The lights were still on in both homes. Their mothers probably still awake, preparing for tomorrow, the first day of school. A beginning that carried unknown promises.
Yogesh clapped Rohit on the shoulder.
"Alright, man. Get some sleep. You might meet your mystery girl tomorrow."
Rohit rolled his eyes again.
"You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Never," Yogesh winked. "And if she turns out to be real, I'm claiming psychic credit."
With a laugh and a wave, they parted ways—Yogesh heading into his gate with a bounce in his step, and Rohit walking slowly toward his own door, the dream still lurking faintly at the back of his mind.
He didn't know yet that tomorrow would bring someone who would turn the rhythm of his world upside down.
But tonight, the streets were quiet, and everything still felt normal.
For now.