Author's POV:
The conference room was buzzing with pre-meeting energy—half-finished jokes, water bottles clanking, chairs being shuffled, and a bunch of tired-yet-pretending-to-be-enthusiastic volunteers.
Saharsh entered with Shivam, Kiara, and Daksh, trailing slightly behind them as they made their way toward the front row. His mind was somewhere else—specifically, on a certain someone.
As they walked in, the first thing he noticed was her.
Sameera.
She was already there, seated at the far side of the table with her group—seven or eight of them, talking, half-laughing, passing sarcastic comments.
She stood out effortlessly.
Today, she wore a simple black kurti with three-quarter sleeves, the sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing a silver bracelet that glinted as she gestured while talking. Her dark brown hair was tied in a high ponytail, with loose strands falling around her ears. But it was her eyes—lined thick with kajal, big, expressive, and slightly tired yet full of life—that hit him like a punch to the chest.
She had a face that didn't need any filter. Clean features, a small nose ring on the left, and a confident posture like she'd already been through enough college drama to know exactly who she was.
Saharsh froze for a moment, caught mid-step.
She looked even more... herself today. Like what he has seen before was just one layer. There was so much more.
Kiara whispered, smirking, "You've stopped walking again, Romeo."
He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Huh?"
Daksh chuckled. "Better pull yourself together, bro. That girl's gonna be your co-coordinator. Try to function."
Saharsh cleared his throat and forced himself to focus. He didn't usually get this distracted. But something about her—it wasn't just her looks. It was the way she carried them.
As they settled into seats across the table, Sameera looked up and immediately noticed the new arrivals. Her gaze paused on Saharsh for a beat longer than necessary. She didn't look surprised—more curious.
Then she got up from her chair, walking toward them with a small, polite smile. Her steps were confident, unhurried, her silver jhumkas swinging softly with her stride.
Saharsh didn't blink.
She stopped right in front of him, extended her hand.
"Hey," she said. "Sameera. Final year CMPN. I guess we'll be stuck with each other till this event's over."
Her voice was clear, smooth, and carried just the right touch of sarcasm.
Saharsh looked at her hand, then up at her eyes.
They were clearer up close—deep brown, rimmed thick with kajal, and glowing under the white lights of the meeting room.
For a second, he forgot what words were.
Then he stood and took her hand.
"Saharsh," he said, his tone softer than usual. "MBA. Pune export."
She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Hope you came with warranty."
He chuckled. "Lifetime return policy."
Their handshake lingered just half a second longer than necessary. Not awkward—just... noticed.
And in that second, something shifted.
Not drastically. Not dramatically.
Just a pause.
A spark.
Sameera took her seat again, this time directly across from Saharsh.
For reasons he couldn't explain, he suddenly became very aware of his posture — sitting up straighter, fixing his sleeves, trying not to make it look like he was trying. She, on the other hand, was back to being effortlessly relaxed, cross-legged on her chair with a pen twirling between her fingers.
The faculty coordinator, Mr. Kadam, arrived moments later and clapped his hands once. "Alright, let's get this started. The MBA welcome event is in a week, and we need to get moving. Fast."
Sameera leaned forward. "We've already made a basic draft of the plan. I can walk everyone through it."
"Please do," Mr. Kadam nodded.
She got up, walked to the whiteboard, and began outlining the schedule. "So, we'll begin with an informal icebreaker session — probably something like 'Guess the Lie' or 'Pass the Prop.' Nothing too awkward."
From the other side, Saharsh tilted his head. "Icebreakers are always awkward. That's their whole personality."
She smirked, still writing. "That's because people like you overthink it. Just play along, MBA boy."
Kiara chuckled from beside him. "Ooooh. Bold of you to assume he plays along with anything."
Sameera turned slightly, her smile never fading. "Then it's time he learns."
Shreya whispered to Sanskruti, "This is gonna be fun."
Sameera continued, laying out segments like student performances, games, a photo booth corner, and a live music session.
At "live music," Saharsh glanced up. "We can help there. Shivam and I both sing, and Daksh plays guitar."
Sameera raised an eyebrow. "You sing?"
"Only when bribed with coffee," he replied smoothly.
She looked at Mr. Kadam. "Budget proposal needs to include a Nescafé vending machine. Clearly, we've got high-maintenance performers."
The room laughed, and the tension melted into easy teamwork. Slowly, the conversation shifted into who would handle what — Saharsh and Shivam took the music segment, Kiara agreed to help with decor, and Sameera's group took over logistics and games.
As plans started taking shape, Saharsh found himself watching her even when she wasn't speaking.
She was sharp — the kind who didn't waste time sugarcoating things. Her notes were clear, her sarcasm always timely, and somehow, even in a room full of voices, she anchored the chaos instead of being consumed by it.
Once, during a quick pause, she glanced across at him and caught him looking.
He didn't look away this time.
Neither did she.
Just the tiniest tilt of her head, the smallest smile — the kind you give when you know someone's watching, and you don't mind.
As the meeting wrapped up and chairs began scraping the floor, everyone filtered out in twos and threes, still discussing event duties, assignments, and where to get cutting chai nearby.
Sameera slung her tote bag over her shoulder and walked out beside Saharsh, still mid-convo about venue lighting.
"So, you really think fairy lights are overrated?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"They are," Saharsh said, hands in his pockets. "Unless they're used in moderation. Like rain, or Instagram quotes."
She laughed. "You're way too opinionated for someone I just met."
He shrugged, smiling. "I've been told that. Usually by people I'm still friends with."
They walked down the corridor, slowly falling into easy pace, their steps syncing without trying.
Just then, from a few steps ahead, Manjiri turned back and called out teasingly,
"Oye, Sameera Gayaki, stop flirting and come help me with these printouts!"
Saharsh's steps halted for a second.
Sameera... Gayaki?
His heart skipped a beat.
That name. That face.
A wave of buried memories came rushing back — Nagpur, worn-out benches, chalkboard dust, "Second B - Rose Section", tiffin breaks, and that one girl with big eyes and perfectly written cursive who once helped him finish a science project.
"Sameera Gayaki," he repeated under his breath.
He turned to glance at her again, this time with a different kind of awe.
There she was.
The girl from his childhood.
His first crush.
Sameera from 2nd B, Rose Class.
And now... here she was, walking beside him again — like life had looped back in the strangest, sweetest way.