By the second week of school, Class 5-B had finally settled into its usual rhythm—half noisy, half sleepy, always chaotic.
But today felt different.
It was DHARA Domain Selection Day.
Every student had a thin white form on their desk. Four boxes. Four paths.
Business & Management
Science
Arts
Sports
Shardha Ma'am, warm as sunlight and strict only when needed, adjusted her glasses and smiled.
"All right, children. Choose carefully. Your domain will guide your activities for the year. No hurry—read fully, decide properly."
Pens clicked. Bodies shifted. A nervous, expectant silence filled the room.
And then the classroom door slid open.
A girl stepped in—straight posture, a disciplined walk, ponytail tight and neat.
Mohammadi Mehek.
The new transfer.
"S-sorry, ma'am… I came late. Office ma'am sent me."
Shardha Ma'am smiled. "It's okay, beta. Take the last seat for now, we'll shift later."
The class turned, an entire row of heads swiveling. Mehek carried herself with an easy, quiet certainty that pulled their attention. As she moved to the back, a nervous rustle of whispers rose.
"New girl, ah?"
"I saw her records... she didn't just score high, she topped four subjects."
"Ninety-five percent, dude. Last year our topper was 92 only."
Mehek clearly heard the last figure. Her chin lifted infinitesimally—a flicker of acknowledgment, not ego. She was used to setting the benchmark.
Shardha Ma'am began calling names to check forms.
"Tanish?"
"Science, ma'am."
"Savithri?"
"Arts, ma'am."
"Good," she nodded. "Both of you performed very well last year."
Tanish grinned. Savithri straightened proudly.
And then, the whisper that had weight:
"Marks are just marks, though. Aryan and Sagar were still the best in third."
Mehek's head didn't turn, but her eyes flicked toward the two boys immediately.
They sat at the center of the room.
Aryan was rubbing his forehead like he was trying to press away a blinding pain. Sagar was still, expressionless, doodling absently on his sheet.
Sagar: Calm, serious, dependable. Everyone in the class still trusted him, leaning on him for explanations or notes.
Aryan: Quiet. A boy who looked like he was listening even when he wasn't. A silence that held authority.
Mehek felt a sharp, unfamiliar prick of annoyance. Why them? Why that specific, loyal defense? She carried an intense dislike for being compared, and here, she was already second.
Shardha Ma'am continued.
"Business & Management… anyone choosing this?"
A long pause. Business was famously rigorous—the most reading, the most projects.
Then—
Aryan lifted his pen. Without looking up, he ticked the box.
Several heads snapped back.
"Wait. Business?"
"The topper's taking that? He should go Science."
"He's serious-ah? That's hard domain da."
The surprise wasn't that he chose a hard path, but that he deviated from the expected Science route—the path of ultimate academic glory. Aryan ignored the reaction. His headache pulsed sharply, yet his hand remained steady.
Then Mehek raised hers, her voice cutting clearly through the room's sudden quiet.
"Ma'am, I will choose Business & Management too."
This time, the reaction was different—a ripple of knowing appreciation.
"Of course she will."
"Her family runs a business, right? Textile shop."
"The perfect match. Ambitious girl."
Mehek moved to the front to submit her form. She felt Aryan's presence—the stillness beside her—but he didn't move. He didn't glance up. He didn't even seem to sense her proximity, let alone her competition.
And that pure indifference annoyed her more than any whispered challenge.
Shardha Ma'am smiled at both forms.
"Good choices. Not easy, but I'm glad to see courage, children."
Meenakshi quietly leaned over Aryan's desk, her finger lightly tracing the ticked box, checking if he'd signed correctly—a small, familiar ritual.
He caught her eye for a second.
He smiled.
It was small. Fleeting. The kind of smile he held back from everyone else—a simple softening of a perpetually tense face.
She smiled back—bright, unguarded, soft.
No one interrupted. No one noticed. It was a brief, private pocket of time.
Across the room, Mehek saw that moment—that shared warmth she couldn't interpret.
Why him? Why that reaction from her?
Mehek didn't know. The class didn't know. But watching that small gesture, her annoyance solidified into a sharper focus: he wasn't just a challenge in marks; he was the center of a world she didn't belong to yet.
Shardha Ma'am collected the last forms and clapped her hands gently.
"All right, children. Domains are done. Tomorrow we'll start with your first orientation. Be prepared."
The bell rang.
The class rushed out, arguing, laughing. Tanish bumped shoulders with a friend and said, "Business ah? God save them da," and walked off.
Mehek packed slowly. She watched Aryan and Sagar leave together, Aryan's silhouette cutting a distinct path.
She had entered the school expecting to define the map. Now, she realized she had simply walked onto the map someone else had drawn. She wasn't fighting for status; she was fighting for ground.
The sky above Vidya Mandir Academy darkened with approaching rain, the clouds reflecting off the polished courtyard.
Inside Class 5-A, the atmosphere was sharp. Disciplined.
Elite
Ms. Ananya Rao walked between rows, checking forms with the calmness of someone who'd handled toppers her entire career.
"Science… good. Sports—nice. Business & Management—excellent choice."
Radhika filled her form, her choice decisive: Business & Management.
A boy behind her whispered,
"She's taking that? No suspense."
Another muttered,
"She'll set the curve. We don't stand a chance."
She ignored them—until a girl two rows away raised her hand.
"Ma'am, I'm choosing Business too." That was Zoya, the only one who ever matched her in extempore speeches.
Then Ritvik joined in—the boy who had beaten her by a single question in the inter-school quiz last year.
A soft, genuine smile touched Radhika's lips.
Good. At least this school offers worthy competition.
But as she kept her pen down, her thoughts drifted—
—to another boy.
A boy in another school.
The last time they met, two years ago, they were locked in a debate contest. He had dismantled her strongest argument—not with brilliance, but with devastating logic and quiet preparation. They were both disqualified for arguing past the buzzer.
A tie she still counted as her most frustrating loss.
If Aryan Kumar chooses Business…
…this year will finally have meaning.
She signed her name.
Thunder rolled, shaking the windowpanes.