"The past never truly stays buried."
---
Years later — Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh.
Aarav Sharma was now seventeen, in Class 11 at Vidya Niketan Senior Secondary School, one of the 3 most prestigious and elite schools in India.
The bell rang, marking the start of another school day.
Students drifted into their classrooms in pairs and groups, chatting animatedly.
The usual hum of excitement buzzed in the air.
But today, something was different—an undercurrent of tension, almost invisible, like the air before a thunderstorm.
While others shared jokes and stories, Aarav remained distant—silent, as if disconnected from the world around him.
He walked into the classroom without looking at anyone, his mind elsewhere, caught up in a thought he hadn't been able to shake off since the previous evening.
He made his way to his seat at the back near the window.
His fingers tapped against the desk rhythmically as his eyes stared out at the courtyard.
Then—creak—the classroom door opened.
"Good morning, everyone!" the teacher greeted brightly.
"Hope you all had a good term break. Today, we have someone special joining us—please welcome our new student!"
Aarav's gaze barely shifted.
New students weren't common, but it wasn't enough to shake him from his daze.
"Come in," the teacher called. "Introduce yourself."
A girl stepped forward confidently.
Ishita Mehra.
> That name… why does it sound so familiar?
Aarav's eyes flicked toward her.
And for a moment—just a second—his heartbeat faltered.
She was tall for her age, with long black hair tied back neatly.
Her eyes were sharp, unwavering—eyes that looked like they had seen more than most.
Something about her presence tugged at the edge of a memory he couldn't place.
She looked nothing like the girl he once knew.
The confident girl standing before him had a new hairstyle, a sharper voice, and an aura so different it was almost like meeting a stranger.
The memories tangled in his mind, clouded by time and distance, refused to take shape.
Still, his expression remained calm. Blank.
Whatever bond had once existed… it was lost to time.
A void now stood in its place.
Ishita scanned the class with quiet composure.
But when her eyes met Aarav's, something flickered in her expression.
A flicker of recognition.
Aarav, on the other hand, gave nothing away.
He wasn't the same boy from seven years ago.
"Sharma," the teacher said. "Please show her to the empty seat near the window."
Without a word, Aarav got up and walked to her.
He gestured for her to follow, and she did—wordlessly, but watching him carefully.
As they passed the rows of students, Ishita looked at him—like she was searching for something in his face.
But he didn't return the glance.
Not even a trace of memory or emotion.
Just the courteous distance of a stranger.
She sat down next to the window, still watching him from the corner of her eye.
> He doesn't remember me.
Something tightened in her chest.
She had hoped… hoped that he would remember something. Anything.
But no. He had erased her like she was never there.
Seven years, gone in a blink.
The rivalry that once defined her childhood… now meant nothing to him.
---
The Reigniting Rivalry
Days passed like chapters in a worn-out diary.
But one thing never changed—the competition between Aarav and Ishita.
It began quietly.
Subtle comparisons.
Marks on tests.
Debate points.
Basketball scores.
Ishita gave everything. Every ounce of energy.
But Aarav—he always seemed one step ahead.
As if he wasn't even trying.
In PE class, she pushed herself harder than ever—
but Aarav finished every sprint first, barely breaking a sweat.
During class debates, his calm, methodical voice silenced entire rooms.
It was enough to drive her mad.
One afternoon, after yet another math test where Aarav aced every question, Ishita slammed her book shut.
Another win for him.
Another quiet defeat for her.
She looked at his back as he walked out of the classroom, shoulders relaxed, bag slung casually.
"Why won't you let me win, Aarav?" she muttered under her breath.
"Just once… just once."
But he didn't even hear her.
---
The Bet That Shadows Them
Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the city—far away from the hustle of school—a different battle was brewing.
The ancestral Sharma-Mehra residence stood tall amidst the trees of a quiet locality.
The house was grand, with sandstone walls and heavy wooden doors.
This was no ordinary home—it was the symbol of a lifelong friendship between the two families, one that had stood for generations.
Inside, under the soft golden glow of old lanterns, two elders sat across from each other—firm in posture, eyes unblinking.
Rajendra Sharma, Aarav's grandfather.
Indu Mehra, Ishita's grandmother.
The silence between them was more powerful than any words.
"Indu," Rajendra said, finally breaking it.
"Seven years is a long time."
"And yet you knew I'd return," she replied, voice sharp and unwavering.
"You promised. And when the time comes, I'll hold you to it."
"I don't break promises," Rajendra said, his tone turning serious.
Indu's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Then prepare yourself. The game we started long ago… it's only just begun."
The candles flickered, shadows dancing along the walls—two old players moving unseen pieces on a forgotten board.
---
The Unseen Connection
Back at school, as the final bell rang, Aarav slung his bag over one shoulder and walked out of the gate.
The sky was slowly turning orange as evening settled in.
Yet… he felt it.
A presence behind him.
"Aarav," Ishita called.
He stopped.
She walked up, her eyes burning with resolve.
"I won't give up. You can't keep winning forever."
Aarav turned slowly, calm as ever.
"We'll see."
There was a pause.
Like the moment before a blade strikes.
"You will lose," he said, voice low.
"You always do."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Ishita stood frozen.
Her fists clenched, her jaw tight.
This rivalry wasn't fading.
It was only just beginning again.
---
Later That Evening…
Aarav stepped into the quiet halls of his home.
The large house was filled with shadows and silence.
No laughter. No voices.
Only the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway.
He pulled off his tie and headed toward the kitchen.
Buzz.
His phone vibrated.
> Unknown Number.
He frowned, picking it up.
"Hello?"
A distorted voice responded—low, calm, familiar.
> "Aarav Sharma… I've been waiting to speak with you.
There's something you need to know.
A car is waiting outside."
Aarav's brows furrowed.
"Who is this?"
> "All will make sense. Just step outside."
The call ended abruptly.
Cautiously, Aarav opened the main door.
A sleek black car stood outside the gate, engine purring.
From the shadows, two men in black suits approached swiftly.
Before Aarav could react, one held his arm while the other opened the car door.
"What the—!" Aarav resisted, but they weren't aggressive—just fast and efficient.
He was shoved into the back seat.
The door closed.
The car pulled away, disappearing into the night.
---
Meanwhile…
Across the city, under a starless sky, Ishita stood before a familiar old building—the ancestral Sharma-Mehra house, the very place that once united their two families.
Her grandmother's voice echoed in her mind:
> "Ishita, go to the old house tonight. Alone. There's something waiting for you."
The stone steps were cool beneath her sandals as she approached.
But as she reached the main door, something made her pause.
The wind carried a strange stillness.
She didn't open the door.
Instead, she moved towards the side window.
Peering inside through the glass, she saw only flickering candlelight… and a single envelope, resting on the low table.
It was sealed.
With a golden emblem.
Her breath caught in her throat.
That emblem…
> What's that?
---
To Be Continued…