Hello there!

I hope everyone is doing good.

By the time I get home, I feel like I've been hit by a bus.

Twice.

I kick off my shoes at the door, drop my bag somewhere between the hallway and the couch, and drag myself to my room.

My head is spinning. Not from exhaustion-it's spinning from the chaos of today.

Tanya's drama.

The gossips.

The slap.

The stares.

The whispers.

God, what even is my life right now?

I change into my comfiest oversized tee, pull the blanket over my legs, and sink into bed. The lights are off, but my phone's glowing like it has something important to say. It doesn't.

Notifications. Memes. Random messages. None of them worth opening.

Out of habit, I open Instagram.

Thirty-two new followers.

Someone reposted the slap clip.

Fantastic. Just what I needed-going viral for public violence.

I sigh and start mindlessly scrolling through Reels.

Cats.

Makeup hacks that look impossible.

Some girl crying because her boyfriend ghosted her.

Aesthetic study room.

My brain is slowly turning into mashed potatoes.

I keep scrolling for almost two hours. Then hunger kicks in.

I peel myself off the bed, head to the kitchen, and find a covered plate in the fridge. My mom had kept dinner for me.

Damn. Atleast she remembers.

I eat, wash the plate like the responsible daughter I pretend to be, and crawl back to bed with my phone. Still scrolling. Still numb.

Until a message notification pops up.

From an account I've never seen.

@/hopelessturtle The slap? Like a legend.

What the hell-?

I open the profile.

No profile picture.

No name.

Private account.

50 posts. No bio.

Sketchy.

I should ignore it. I usually would.

But tonight, I'm bored. Restless.

And curious.

@/maya.oberoiii

Who the hell is it?

@/hopelessturtle

Somebody who breathes the same air as you.

@/maya.oberoiii

Good for you.

@/hopelessturtle

Very good for me.

@/maya.oberoiii

Are you flirting?

@/hopelessturtle

Am I, sweetheart?

@/maya.oberoiii

I'm blocking you.

@/hopelessturtle

You're not.

@/maya.oberoiii

You cannot decide that.

@/hopelessturtle

I can assume though. You seem curious.

@/maya.oberoiii

I'm not. I'm just bored.

@/hopelessturtle

Let me entertain you.

@/maya.oberoiii

Again, who are you?

@/hopelessturtle

Let's keep that a secret, m'lady.

@/maya.oberoiii

You're either a fan or a freak.

@/hopelessturtle

Can't I be both?

I stare at the screen.

@/maya.oberoiii

Should I block you?

@/hopelessturtle

You could.

@/maya.oberoiii

But?

@/hopelessturtle

But then you'll never know how good I am at late-night texting 💀.

Oh-okay but wha-.

@/maya.oberoiii

I’ve heard that before.

@/hopelessturtle

And were they right?

@/maya.oberoiii

Meh. Four out of ten.

@/hopelessturtle

I’m aiming for an eleven.

@/maya.oberoiii

Bold of you to assume I’d even rate you.

There’s a pause.

@/hopelessturtle

You’re smiling.

@/maya.oberoiii

I am not.

@/hopelessturtle

You are. I'm sure.

@/maya.oberoiii

Why do you believe so?

@/hopelessturtle

Because you haven’t blocked me yet.

Damn him.

@/hopelessturtle

What are you doing right now?

@/maya.oberoiii

Lying in bed.

@/hopelessturtle

Doing what?

@/maya.oberoiii

Overthinking life. Eating imaginary popcorn. Debating if I should delete this chat.

@/hopelessturtle

And what are you wearing? 💀

I pause.

@/maya.oberoiii

Shut up.

@/hopelessturtle

Sorry, princess.

@/maya.oberoiii

Good boy.

@/hopelessturtle

Yours.

@maya.oberoiii

Careful. That line works only if you’re hot.

@/hopelessturtle

You just called me hot, didn’t you?

@maya.oberoiii

No. I said if. Huge difference, turtle boy.

@/hopelessturtle

Still smiling like an idiot though. You got a dangerous effect.

@maya.oberoiii

You're easy to please, clearly.

@/hopelessturtle

Only when it’s you. You flirting with me now?

@maya.oberoiii

Maybe I’m just bored.

@/hopelessturtle

Or maybe you’re curious.

@maya.oberoiii

About what?

@/hopelessturtle

What I’d do if you were actually mine.

@maya.oberoiii

Okay. Wow.

@/hopelessturtle

Too much?

@maya.oberoiii

I didn’t say stop.

@/hopelessturtle

Thought so.

@maya.oberoiii

But I’m gonna regret this. Like in the morning. Definitely.

@/hopelessturtle

Then let’s make it worth the regret.

@maya.oberoiii

You’re smooth. I hate it.

@/hopelessturtle

You love it. And you’re blushing again, aren’t you?

@maya.oberoiii

Go to hell.

@/hopelessturtle

Take me there.

@maya.oberoiii

Ugh. I need sleep.

@/hopelessturtle

Sweet dreams, my love.

@/maya.oberoiii

Fuck off.

@/hopelessturtle

Bye love. Goodnight.

*I leave the messages on seen*

-----

I’m actually insane.

Like, what kind of girl stays up chatting with a complete stranger whose username is literally @/hopelessturtle? And flirts back? And doesn’t block him after all that weird—but kind of addictive—back-and-forth?

Me. That’s who.

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ear, phone half under my face, hair a total mess, and one eye glued shut. I slap the screen to shut it off and groan into my pillow.

It’s 8:37.

Class starts at 9.

Wait. What the actual hell?

I shoot up from bed like I’ve been given an electric shock.

“Oh shit—oh no no no,” I mumble, throwing my blanket off. My heart’s thudding. I can’t afford to be late. Not when I've already gone viral on all the school pages.

But I also can’t look like I’ve rolled straight out of a trash bin.

So. Priorities.

Bathroom first. Then, selection of the outfit.

I pull my hair into a bun because it’s too hot outside. June heat.

After coming out of the bathroom and five minutes of digging through my wardrobe and second-guessing literally everything I own, I settle on my ice-blue jeans and a white full-sleeved top. I throw on my chunky white sneakers and a tiny golden heart pendant. It’s cute.

Makeup? Minimal. Concealer. Light blush. Mascara. Lip gloss. Done in five.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, shove my phone in my back pocket, and run out the door.

I walk down the stairs and that’s when I hear Meera say, “You might fall down the stairs. Walk slowly—jaldi ka kaam shaitaan ka hota hai.”

“Abhi mere paas tumhare liye time nahi hai. I’ll talk to you later,” I reply, hurrying and looking around for the car keys.

“Breakfast, Maya?” she asks.

“Not today. Bye,” I call out, already halfway out the door.

I run toward the garage and spot my driver smoking. He throws the cigarette away the second he sees me.

“Ma’am, you’re already late. Give me the keys, I’ll drop you quickly,” he says.

“No thanks. I’ll drive myself today. And one more thing—you should stop smoking, uncle. It’s not a good habit. How many times do I need to tell you that?” I say while opening the car door.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologizes.

“Uncle, you’re like family now. I don’t want you ruining your health. Khair, main chalti hoon,” I reply.

I get into the car, grip the steering wheel, and start driving. I check the time on my watch.

9:05 a.m.

Holy shit.

I press down on the accelerator a little more, but right before college, there’s a traffic police officer. Please don’t see me. Please, God.

I slow down. Just enough.

But of course—

“Show me your license,” the officer spots me and signals me to pull over.

I pretend to smile as I roll the window down. “Is there a problem, sir?”

He doesn’t smile back. “License.”

I dig through my bag. My heart drops.

Wallet? Check.

Lip gloss? Check.

License?

Not. There.

You have got to be kidding me.

“Umm… I think I left it at home,” I say, mentally banging my head against the steering wheel.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you always drive without your license, ma’am?”

“No! Never. I was just in a hurry.”

He sighs. “Step out of the vehicle.”

Bro. What?

I glance at my watch. 9:12 a.m.

“Sir, please, I have an important class and I’m already late and—”

“Step out. Now.”

So I do. Because what other choice do I have?

As I’m standing on the side of the road, getting a mini-lecture about rules and responsibility, I think:

Ek hoti hai buri kismat.

Phir hoti hai Maya ki kismat.

Because obviously. Obviously, this would happen to me. The girl who slapped someone and went viral and now can’t even make it to class without getting stopped by a cop.

“You’ll need to pay a fine,” the officer says, writing something on his pad.

I resist the urge to scream.

“Okay. Fine. Just tell me how.”

As he hands me the challan slip, my phone buzzes.

Hira: Where the fuck are you, Maya?

I type back quickly:

Me: Long story. Cops. License drama. On the verge of getting arrested. I hate my life.

And that’s when I hear the sound of a car pulling up behind mine. I don’t turn at first, too busy dying inside. But then—

A voice.

Too familiar.

“Sir, I know her. She’s with me.”

I blink and turn around.

Aryan.

Standing there. In a black t-shirt, sunglasses on his head, confidence leaking out of him like he drinks it for breakfast.

The officer looks him up and down. “And you are?”

“Aryan Malhotra. My dad works in city court. If there’s an issue, I can call—”

The officer straightens a little.

Classic Aryan. Using his surname like a sword.

“No issue,” the cop says. “She just didn’t have her license.”

“She probably forgot it. She’s new to driving. Happens,” Aryan says smoothly.

Sir gives me one last stern look. “Next time, carry it. And drive responsibly.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, trying to look sincere.

He leaves.

I exhale like I’ve been underwater.

Aryan turns to me with a grin. “So. What’s your damage today?”

I glare at him. “You really had to flex your daddy’s job like that?”

“Hey, don’t complain. You’re free now.”

“Still. I could’ve handled it.”

“Sure. Standing on the side of the road while your soul left your body.”

I groan and hide my face in my hands.

“Don’t worry,” he says, nudging my shoulder.

I look at him. “It’s only 9:20.”

He laughs. “Let's get in. We've got classes.”

I pause. “What did you do about your first one?”

He shrugs. “Skipped it. Priorities.”

Aryan and I walk through the campus gate, the noise of honking cars and scolding traffic cops finally swallowed by the quiet buzz of college grounds. My pace is fast. His is annoyingly easy.

We reach the corridor where the humanities and law blocks split.

“This is me,” Aryan says, stopping at the turn. “Try not to get arrested again.”

I shoot him a look. “Try not to use your dad’s name like a hall pass.”

He winks. “See you around, criminal.”

I let out a laugh and keep walking.

Philosophy is my first class, which is exactly what I need after this morning—a deep, unnecessary dive into the meaning of life.

I reach the lecture hall and push the door open.

Professor Simriti is already mid-sentence, writing something on the board. The room is silent except for the screech of marker against whiteboard.

“Miss Oberoi,” she says without turning around. “Nice of you to join us. Only fifteen minutes late. A new record?”

I freeze at the doorway, every eye snapping to me like I just walked in holding a disco ball.

“I apologize, professor,” I mutter, ducking my head as I move past the first few rows.

A small, high-pitched laugh breaks out behind me. Tanya.

Of course.

Professor Simriti pauses. Then turns around slowly, looking directly at Tanya.

“Miss Tanya,” he says, voice dry. “If you're done admiring the latecomers, I suggest you put your attention where it belongs.”

Tanya’s face stiffens. Her smile fades.

“In fact,” the professor continues, “if you're in the mood to entertain yourself, perhaps step outside, get a cup of coffee, or a personality. Whichever is easier to find.”

Professor Simriti is a diva. The entire class goes still. Someone coughs to cover a laugh.

Tanya doesn’t respond. Just stares ahead like her soul left her body.

I spot Hira in the third row, thank god, and slide into the seat beside her.

She looks at me, smirking. “You don’t look like someone who nearly got arrested five minutes ago.”

I sigh and drop my bag on the floor. “I’ve had a morning, Hira. And a night.”

Her brows shoot up. “Night?”

“I stayed up texting a stranger,” I whisper, not even sure why I’m admitting this out loud.

She asks, raising her eyebrows. “You what?”

“It was random. His account has no name, no face, just words. And I was bored. He was interesting."

“Girl, you’re insane.”

“I know.”

“Like, this is a whole Netflix docu-series waiting to happen. What if he’s fifty-five and owns an axe?”

I make a face. “You’ve been watching too many serial killer documentaries again.”

She leans in. “Did he flirt?”

I pause. “He did.”

She smirks. “And what did you do?”

“I...I blocked him.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” I admit. “But I will.”

"Did you flirt back?" she asks.

"I- kind of did," I say.

Hira grins, then pokes my shoulder. “You’re unbelievable. What happened to the Maya Oberoi with a ‘do not approach’ sign tattooed across her forehead?”

“She had a breakdown,” I reply.

The professor starts droning on about Descartes and dualism, something about the mind and the body being separate. Something which is completely getting over my head. I already want to go home.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur. I'm not really sure if it’s because I’m tired or because my brain just can’t process anything after the morning chaos.

Philosophy ends.

Then comes Psychology.

We talk about memory and emotions, which I’m definitely not in the mood for.

After that, History.

I don’t like this subject at all.

Tanya keeps flipping her hair in the front row like she owns the air around her.

Whatever.

She’s not even the main character.

Then English.

The professor reads out poetry that sounds like heartbreak dressed in metaphors.

I try to stay awake. Barely succeed.

And then—finally—comes break.

The canteen is buzzing when we enter. Tables are full. People laughing. Music playing from someone’s speaker in the corner. The usual.

We find a spot under the fan, squeezed around a metal table that wobbles every time someone leans too hard.

Simran is already halfway through her donut, fingers covered in chocolate glaze.

Aryan is making everyone laugh with some weird story.

I’m sipping Pepsi from a glass bottle, the coldness helping me keep my eyes open.

Yashika’s been glued to her phone since we sat down. She hasn’t said a word.

Aman and Ivansh are talking football—something about a match last night and some crazy goal.

Hira and Himani are beside me, sharing fries.

It feels normal.

For once, everything feels

like it’s in place.

And then everyone’s phone lights up.

All at once.

Like, literally every single person in the canteen just got a notification.

What—!?

We all jolt. Even Aryan stops mid-sentence.

Simran freezes, donut halfway to her mouth.

Hira’s eyes snap up to meet mine.

I glance down at my phone.

Then look up.

Straight at Ivansh.

He’s already staring at me.

The hell—?

What do you think is on that notification? Drop your craziest theories below. I want to see what you guys think happens next 🕵🏻‍♀️

Also, if you enjoyed the chapter – do vote.