Chapter 1 – First Day in Bhopal
Bhopal mornings always arrived slowly.
The sun rose gently over the lakes, spreading soft orange light across the quiet streets. Tea stalls opened before most shops, filling the air with the smell of boiling chai, ginger, and fresh samosas. Auto rickshaws rattled past sleepy neighborhoods while people prepared for another ordinary day.
Inside a modest two story house in Arera Colony, Manak Singh sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone.
His first day of college.
From the kitchen downstairs came the clinking of steel utensils and his mother’s voice.
“Manak! Jaldi uth jao, you’ll be late!”
“I’m up,” he replied lazily.
He wasn’t excited either.
For most people, the first day of college felt like the beginning of something big new friends, new freedom, maybe even love stories.
Manak had already decided he wanted none of that.
He stretched, grabbed his backpack, and walked downstairs.
His father sat at the dining table reading the newspaper, glasses resting low on his nose.
“First day today?” his father asked without looking up.
“Focus on studies. College distractions ruin people.”
That was something he completely agreed with.
Especially one particular distraction.
He had seen what it did to people.
Friends crying over breakups. Promises turning into arguments. People changing completely just because someone else walked into their life.
Manak had made a quiet promise to himself long ago.
Life becomes simpler that way.
Half an hour later he was riding his bike through the busy roads of Bhopal.
Traffic lights blinked lazily. Street vendors arranged fruits on their carts. Students wearing backpacks gathered near bus stops.
The college gate appeared ahead of him, crowded with new faces.
He parked his bike near the boundary wall and leaned against it, observing everything.
Groups were already forming.
Some were laughing too loudly.
A couple stood near the gate, holding hands like the world didn’t exist around them.
Manak watched them for a moment and shook his head slightly.
"People really build their lives around this thing," he thought.
He slipped his earphones in and started playing music, letting the noise of the campus fade into the background.
For him, college was simple.
No unnecessary complications.
Students slowly began moving toward the academic block.
Manak followed the crowd inside.
The corridors smelled faintly of chalk dust and fresh paint. Notice boards were filled with class schedules and club posters.
He stopped in front of one board, trying to find his section.
A small crowd had gathered there.
“I’m telling you, the list is wrong,” a girl said, pointing at the sheet of paper pinned to the board.
“Your name is literally right there,” another student replied.
“That’s not my roll number.”
Manak glanced up briefly.
She had long dark hair falling over one side of her face, a notebook tucked under her arm, and an expression that looked equal parts irritated and amused.
Her name, written on the sheet she was pointing at, was Kriti Verma.
Manak looked away after a second.
Just another face in the crowd.
Yet for some reason, when she finally stopped arguing and turned around, her eyes briefly met his.
Then she walked away down the corridor.
Manak didn’t think about it again.
He simply adjusted his backpack and headed toward his classroom.
Completely unaware that this random, ordinary morning in Bhopal had just quietly introduced him to the person who would someday change everything he believed about love.
