(7:00 AM)
The weather in Chandigarh always carried a strange intoxication. Not too hot, not too cold; just a comfortable peace that nurtured new dreams.
But the air in the corridor of the 'School of Management' at Chandigarh University was not filled with air, but with a strange anxiety and the din of excited students.
The BBA (Bachelor of Business Administration) First Year class hadn't officially started, but Room No. 304 was already packed. New faces, new hopes, and gazes trying to size each other up.
In a corner, near the window where the last rays of the sun settled, sat Shubham. His white shirt and blue jeans were immaculate, much like his mind.
He was meticulously arranging his notes—every line ruled, every point absolutely clear.
There was a serious determination on his face.
He wasn't just here to earn a degree; he was here to live his father's dreams.
For him, every minute in this class was precious. Shubham absolutely disliked noise, carelessness, and unnecessary drama.
"Dude, Shubham! Lighten up a bit! Did you come here to become a professor? College has just started!"
This was the voice of Rajat. Shubham's childhood friend and his complete opposite. Rajat laughed loudly, kept his shirt buttons slightly open, and his hairstyle was always a bit messy.
He considered life an open book, while Shubham viewed it as a complex equation.
Shubham answered without lifting his head, "Not a professor, Rajat.
I came here to be a successful person. And success comes from hard work, not noise. At least try to be quiet today."
"Oh, come on, there are so many beautiful girls here, and you're talking about 'hard work'?" Rajat winked and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, that girl on the last bench—how cute is she, man!"
Shubham gave Rajat a slightly annoyed look. "You will never change."
"And you will never loosen up. That's the balance of our friendship, my brother!" Rajat laughed, sat down on the nearby bench, and started trying to impress the girls around him.
Exactly at 9:00 AM, Professor Verma stepped into the class. He was a strict and disciplined man. An immediate silence fell over the class. Shubham smiled; he liked such discipline.
The Professor had just begun to speak—"Good morning class. I welcome you all..."
Suddenly, there was a loud bang at the door.
BANG!
The door was thrown open, and a girl rushed in with a gust of wind, her hair scattered over her face, her breathing heavy, and a strange panic in her eyes.
This was Tisha.
Tisha's dressing was slightly different from the others. She wore a simple Kurta and jeans, but her Kurta had light-colored hand embroidery, which reflected her artistic nature.
Professor Verma raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Miss. Do you know how late you are to class?"
Tisha stammered, checked her watch, and counted on her fingers. "S-Sir... I... I am not late! I was only late by one and a half minutes!"
A slight chuckle echoed through the entire class. Only Tisha could call a minute and a half 'not late'.
Shubham took a deep breath. He intensely disliked such careless people. A slight frown appeared on his forehead.
"Stop counting standing in the class and take your seat. And yes, next time, even a second's delay will not be tolerated," the Professor said sternly.
Tisha nodded quickly. She spotted an empty seat near the door and hurried towards it. She was in such a rush that she didn't look around.
She reached Shubham's desk. Her bag hit Shubham's table with force.
All hell broke loose when Shubham's neatly arranged notes, on which he had spent hours, flew into the air. The white pages, with blue ink lettering, scattered on the floor like butterflies.
Shubham's patience snapped.
"Can't you... can't you look where you're going?" Shubham tried his best to keep his voice calm, but every word was laced with anger.
Tisha stopped. She looked at the scattered pages on the floor, then looked up at Shubham.
"Oh, sorry... I didn't know you preserved your notebook like the 'Taj Mahal'," Tisha replied curtly. In fact, she had been scared at first, but seeing Shubham's arrogance and critical face, her fear turned into irritation.
"These are my hard-earned notes, scattered because of your carelessness! Can't you be a little responsible?" Shubham said, almost grinding his teeth.
"And can't you stop overreacting to everything? They are just paper, after all! Pick them up and move on!" Tisha retorted with a seemingly logical but utterly careless response.
This was the moment when first-sight hatred took its place in the room.
Professor Verma intervened. "Enough! Take your seats! Or both of you will be thrown out of the class!"
Shubham pressed his lips together, picking up the fallen notes without saying anything more.
Tisha gave him a fierce glare before walking to a nearby bench and sitting down.
"Arrogant bookworm!" Tisha muttered to herself.
"Careless trouble!" Shubham repeated in his mind.
The bench Tisha sat on already had two girls, who smiled at Tisha.
One was Isha. She was quiet, her hair neatly tied, with wisdom in her eyes and deep affection for her friends.
Isha put a comforting hand on Tisha's shoulder.
"Why do you always create such drama, Tisha?" Isha asked softly.
"What can I do, Isha? The morning alarm just doesn't work! And then that guy! Is he genuinely that perfect, or is it just an act?" Tisha shook her head.
The other girl was Ritika. Extrovert, always ready, and bold. Her hair was curled, and her confidence spread throughout the room.
"Forget it, Tisha.
Some people just act like that to make a first-day impression. By the way, what a great retort you gave him!" Ritika winked.
"He looked completely arrogant to me."
The three friends were bound by a deep friendship—Isha, the quiet support; Tisha, the playful heart; and Ritika, the voice of abandon.
When the class commenced, Professor Verma announced the group projects. "Every group will have five members. Form your preferred groups now."
Hearing this, Rajat's eyes lit up. This was the best excuse to talk to girls.
Rajat immediately leaned towards Shubham. "Shubham, the two of us are together. For the other three... I'll see.
We don't need any boring and quiet girl in our group. We need someone who laughs a little, jokes a little."
His gaze fell directly on Tisha's group, especially Ritika, who was laughing loudly at the moment.
Rajat smiled and approached their group.
"Hi, beauties! My name is Rajat, and I'm the funniest and most intelligent guy in this class," Rajat said in a dramatic, slightly cinematic fashion.
Ritika looked him up and down, and her laughter abruptly stopped.
"You... intelligent? Your face looks more like a 'Self-Proclaimed-Romeo'," Ritika narrowed her eyes.
Rajat's mouth fell open. He was used to receiving compliments from girls.
"Oh wow! So much spice? You don't even know me, Miss..."
"Ritika. And I have zero interest in knowing you, Mr. Self-Proclaimed. We need a serious partner in our group, not a loud laugher," Ritika stated clearly.
Rajat looked back, where Shubham was quietly watching them. Shubham gave a slight shake of his head, as if to say, 'You deserve it.'
Rajat refused to accept defeat. "Looks like you need my best friend. He's the class topper. If you take him, you might have to adjust me along with him. It's a 'bundle deal'."
Ritika looked at Tisha and Isha. Tisha shrugged, she absolutely did not want to work with her nemesis, Shubham.
But Isha intervened cleverly. "If he really is the topper, our group might need his help. Tisha, both you and we need some support."
Tisha hesitated slightly. Keeping Shubham close was not going to be easy for her.
"Fine," Ritika said, but there was still a challenge in her voice. "We are only taking your friend (Shubham). And if you want it so badly, come along. But yes, this is not a 'bundle deal', it's a 'necessary evil' one."
Rajat smiled. "Necessary evil, alright! I got a spot!"
He happily returned to Shubham. "It's settled, bro! We are with them! Now, you get me their phone numbers!"
Shubham massaged his forehead. He knew that his quiet and organized college life was about to be turned upside down, in an instant, because of that careless Tisha and that 'Tom and Jerry' couple (Rajat and Ritika).
He looked at his scattered notes, which still had dust from Tisha's bag on them. This was not just dust—it was the first layer of the hatred forming between them, under which their Unheard Heartbeats were silently repressed.
The class ended. As Tisha was leaving, her eyes again fell on Shubham. He was carefully managing all his notes, writing something in his diary. He was entirely in his own world—calm, serious, and focused on his goals.
Tisha thought to herself, "I wonder why people are so stiff. A little laughter, a little fun makes life so much easier. But he... he is a machine! He only cares about grades."
Suddenly, Shubham looked up, and his gaze met Tisha's directly.
An awkward, strange moment.
No smile, no apology. Just a cold, measured look.
Shubham's eyes looked at Tisha as if she were a complex question he didn't know the answer to, but which was essential for him to solve.
And Tisha's eyes looked at Shubham as if he were a harsh wall that she didn't have the courage to break but couldn't ignore either.
Rajat called out from behind, "Tisha, listen! When are we meeting for the project?"
Shubham ignored Tisha and walked out with Rajat.
Tisha took a deep breath. "Shubham..." she took his name in her mind. This name was now synonymous with trouble for her.
Isha and Ritika surrounded her.
"What are you thinking?" Ritika asked.
"Nothing," Tisha dismissed the thought. "Just thinking about how these three years will pass... amidst these 'perfect' people."
But Tisha knew she wasn't just thinking about 'three years.' She was thinking about how her very first encounter was with the boy she utterly disliked, but who was now destined to be part of her group.
Unheard Heartbeats—perhaps this is what they call it—a disquiet that begins with first-sight hatred, but is destined to end with the slow whisper of love.