The first day of college always smelled like fresh notebooks, cheap perfume, and nerves.
Rhea Sharma adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers curled tightly around her cloth-covered diary. She took a breath, stepping through the rusted gates of Starlight College of Arts & Commerce, hoping to blend in with the sea of new faces.
Students swarmed around her—some taking selfies at the main entrance, some already making best friends, others loudly asking for classroom directions. The noise was overwhelming, but Rhea kept her head low and her pace steady.
“Okay, rule number one,” Anaya said, catching up beside her. “Always look like you belong, even when you're lost.”
Rhea smiled. Her roommate and only friend so far, Anaya was the kind of girl who could talk a wall into friendship. Bright, bold, and buzzing with energy, she was Rhea’s opposite in every possible way.
“I belong in the library,” Rhea muttered, pushing her glasses up.
Anaya snorted. “You belong in a coffee shop with a cute boy who listens to indie music and reads your poetry.”
“I don’t share my poetry,” Rhea replied softly.
“Yet,” Anaya winked. “You will. Trust me.”
As they crossed the central lawn, a sudden buzz swept through the crowd—girls giggling, boys nodding in respect, and a few whispering his name.
“Dude,” Anaya hissed. “Look left.”
Rhea paused. “Another senior crush of yours?”
“Nope. Kabir Malhotra.”
Curiosity got the better of her. She turned her head slightly.
And saw him.
Kabir Malhotra.
Tall, lean but athletic, with an effortless confidence in his stride. He wore a black hoodie despite the September heat, hands stuffed in his pockets, a lazy smile playing on his lips. His tousled hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days, and yet it somehow worked.
He wasn’t just attractive. He had presence.
People noticed when he walked by—but he didn’t seem to notice them back. He was talking to a guy next to him, laughing at something, completely unaware of the attention.
Rhea blinked and looked away.
“Campus heartthrob,” Anaya whispered. “Third-year topper, football captain, Instagram verified, and—drumroll—single.”
“Good for him,” Rhea said, her voice neutral.
They attended their classes in college. After that went to college hostel.
But that night, after unpacking her books and hiding her diary under her pillow, Rhea opened her secret Instagram page: @SilentSoul_07.
Her words were her safe space, a corner of the internet where no one knew her name, only her thoughts.
She typed:
> “Some people walk like they own the world.
Others walk like the world doesn’t own them.
And then there’s him—
Walking like he doesn’t even care it exists.”
She stared at the words for a while.
Then hit Post.
---
Across campus, Kabir sat on the terrace of the boys’ hostel, headphones around his neck, his phone resting on his thigh. He scrolled through Instagram without paying much attention—football clips, memes, party invites.
Then stopped.
A poem.
Short. Striking.
Something about it... made him pause.
He tapped on the username: @SilentSoul_07. No selfies, no real name—just words. Raw, honest, and oddly familiar, like someone had written thoughts he didn’t know he had.
Without thinking, he hit Follow. He was so curious to know about this unknown profile.
---
Back in her room, Rhea’s phone buzzed.
@kabir.m_official started following you.
She stared at the screen, her breath catching for a moment. She read it again. Then again.
A trick of the algorithm? A prank?
“Coincidence,” she whispered, setting the phone aside.
She checked his profile and thought that he has many followers and here I have only 300k followers why is he following me.
She was thinking about his following request. Her fingers hovered over her diary that night longer than usual.
And across campus, a boy who never read poetry was already scrolling for more. He was wondering how someone could write the thoughts in his mind in words.He wanted to meet the person who is writing such good poetry. He spends most of the night reading poetry but he is not bored at all. After reading all the posts of that account, he was satisfied.
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