Author's POV:
The next morning, Saharsh sat at his usual table in the MBA wing's quieter corner, a half-finished black coffee growing cold beside his notebook. Pages meant for marketing strategy doodles were instead filled with random swirls, a few lyrics, and a mind far too occupied to form coherent thoughts.
He'd barely slept last night. Not because of pressure. Or work. Or homesickness.
But because of a laugh.
Her laugh.
It wasn't loud or fake. It was natural—one of those spontaneous, head-tilting, full-face kind of laughs that momentarily silences the world around it. He'd heard it yesterday in the canteen while passing by with his group, joking about the welcome event.
And for some reason, it stuck with him.
He hadn't even seen her properly at first—just caught her in the corner of his vision:
A girl in a loose navy hoodie, hair tied up in the messiest bun, no makeup, no drama. Just presence.
And then she laughed.
The kind of laugh you want to hear again.
The kind that doesn't try too hard, but leaves a dent in the air.
Unfiltered. Effortless. Real.
When he glanced over again, she was leaning forward on the table, talking animatedly with her friends, her hands flying mid-sentence like she was explaining the secrets of the universe. Her smile stretched wide and unapologetic, her eyes slightly squinted in joy.
She wasn't trying to be pretty.
But she was. In a way most girls didn't realize they could be.
There was something oddly magnetic about her — like a hidden plotline in a book everyone else skipped.
"Saharsh."
No response.
"Saharsh, bro."
Still nothing.
Then a paper ball bounced off his head.
He blinked, turned, and found Shivam grinning at him from across the table.
"Hello, Oh hero. Return to earth."
Kiara, sipping her drink, raised a brow. "Who is she?"
"Yeah, man," added Daksh, folding his arms. "You've been zoning out for the last ten minutes."
Saharsh smirked but didn't answer.
Kiara leaned in. "Oh my god, it is someone! Who is she? From our department?"
He shook his head. "Nah. Probably Engineering."
"Engineering?" Shivam looked impressed. "Daring Bhai."
"Details," Daksh demanded. "Name, subject, horoscope, shoe size."
Saharsh leaned back in his chair, gaze tilted toward the open canteen courtyard, as if somehow hoping she'd pass by again.
"Didn't get her name," he admitted, almost to himself. "Saw her yesterday. Hoodie, messy hair, silver bracelet. With a group of friends. I think she's from BE."
Kiara's eyes sparkled. "And you haven't stalked her yet? Who are you?"
Saharsh just smiled, quietly tapping his pen on the edge of his notebook.
"Her laugh," he said after a pause, voice softer than usual, "It wasn't fake. That's all I remember."
The three of them went silent for a second.
Then Shivam dramatically gasped.
"Ladka gaya re!"
The table broke into laughter.
Saharsh rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling.
Daksh scrolled through the event volunteer list over lunch, casually rattling off names.
"Okay, so we've got a few from CMPN, some from IT... Oh—Sameera Gayaki. Final year, Computer Engg. Pretty well-known on campus. She's handling the coordination with us."
Saharsh, absently sipping his cold coffee, paused at the name.
Sameera Gayaki.
Something about it tugged at the back of his mind. Not a face. Just... familiarity.
He frowned slightly. "Gayaki...?"
"You know her?" Kiara asked.
He shook his head. "Not sure. Maybe I've heard the name somewhere."
Daksh grinned. "You'll definitely meet her soon. She might be our event coordinator."
Saharsh didn't press further. But the name stayed with him—like a word in a half-forgotten language.
Later that afternoon, as he walked down the corridor toward the common resource room, surrounded by chatter and footfalls, the world seemed to slow just a little.
Because walking past him—on the opposite side of the corridor—was a girl.
And for the first time, he saw her.
Really saw her.
She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were on her friend beside her, laughing mid-sentence about something he couldn't hear.
But the details hit him all at once.
An off-white sleeveless Chikankari kurti, breezy and delicate, paired with fitted sky-blue jeans. Silver jhumkas swayed with every step she took, catching the light for just a second. Her hair was half-tied, strands framing her face in that perfectly imperfect way.
She looked like someone who belonged in poetry.
The same laugh. The same energy.
The same girl from the canteen.
He stopped for half a second as she passed, not turning, not noticing.
But his eyes followed her — not just because she was beautiful, but because something about her felt strangely familiar. Deeper than attraction. Older than memory.
Then she turned the corner. Gone again.
But this time, he had a name.
Sameera.