✨️✨️𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕✨️✨️

[A/N First chapter of this highschool novel. Drama and embarrassment cladded novel yeh raha aapke screen par.

Hope you enjoy reading.]

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Badal pe paon hai,ya chhoota gaon hai

Ab toh bhai chal padi,apni yeh naov hai

Badal pe paon hai, ya chhoota gaon hai

Ab toh bhai chal padi, apni yeh naov hai

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Year 2021

The alarm rang shrilly, slicing through the dawn's silence, but it barely had the chance to echo before it was shut off. The one it was meant to wake had already been up, immersed in a world of numbers and logic for a while.

A math textbook lay open in front of her, surrounded by a rough notebook filled with neat, determined handwriting, pens in multiple colors, a simple calculator, and a glass of water. The scene was set for a Sunday study session, and at the heart of it was Bhawna Trivedi, focused and unwavering even at 5 AM.

Bhawna Trivedi was the kind of person who would wake up early every single day, even on weekends, even on Sundays-the supposed day of rest. She had alreayd freshened up as she follows a schedule where bathing is written at the top og her day.

But rest wasn't part of her vocabulary when it came to her aspirations. To her, time was precious, a resource to be maximized. Wake up early, sleep late-that was her motto.

People around her always wondered how she managed to do this without feeling utterly exhausted. Was it her sheer passion that fueled her? Or maybe something in her genetics? Even Bhawna herself didn't know. But she never questioned it; she simply embraced the strange energy that allowed her to persevere.

A smirk curved her lips as she glanced at the answer key and saw her solution matched perfectly. The satisfaction was immense, a rush of relief and pride flooding through her veins.

Bhawna loved the feeling of getting a difficult problem right. It was one of those simple but rewarding pleasures that kept her motivated.

This feeling is so satisfying.....

A gentle knock at the door pulled her out of her focused bubble. She stood up, stretched her arms briefly to get rid of the stiffness, and went to open the door. Her mother stood there, smiling warmly, holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Subah-subah chai le aayi ho, Maa?" Bhawna's eyes lit up as she accepted the cup, her gratitude evident.

Her mother laughed softly. "Haan, meri padhaku gudiya ko chai ke bina subah kahan hoti hai," she teased, patting Bhawna's head affectionately. Her mother knew well enough that Bhawna practically thrived on tea. Although she didn't let her daughter have tea too frequently, she always made an exception for a morning cup, knowing how much Bhawna cherished it.

[ Yes, My studious girl's morning doesn't starts before her Tea.]

[Gudiya=doll which is often used as a cute nicknames for girls.]

Tell me your nicknames too here-------->

Tea was Bhawna's solace, her daily comfort. "Chai is love," she often declared, and she meant every word.

Chai ki chuski subah subah can make your day. [ Same for coffee lovers too]

Her mother was an author, a creator of fictional love stories that captured hearts far and wide. At home, she was a warm and gentle presence, always there to support her family and manage the household.

Mornings were her time to tackle chores, and once the house settled down, she would sit down and work on her next bestseller. The readers eagerly awaited her next book, and Bhawna's best friend, Shreya, who was a self-proclaimed book lover, would transform into a wide-eyed puppy whenever Bhawna's mother hinted at her upcoming plots.

Bhawna's father, on the other hand, was a busy surgeon, often called away for emergencies. Yet he always made time for his family, cherishing moments of togetherness despite his demanding job.

He would sit and listen to his wife talk about her stories, even the tiniest details of her plots, with genuine interest. "Kya likha hai, batao na," he would say, leaning in as if the next chapter were a matter of life and death.

The author-doctor duo will banter for hours so that the doctor would know the storyline of author. But every single time, Author immerges victorious with her storyline a secret.

With Bhawna, her father had a different approach. He never asked her about studies, knowing how dedicated she already was. Instead, he made it a point to ask about everything else, showing his love and pride in her in subtle ways.

He believed that discussing academics would only add pressure, so he avoided it altogether, preferring to be her support in other ways.

Still, her parents often worried about her. Bhawna's life revolved around studying, and they felt she was missing out on the joys of being young. " Gudiya, Kabhi toh bahar jaaya karo," her mother would urge her, trying to coax her into taking breaks.

Her father would sometimes enlist Shreya and Sneha's help to drag Bhawna out of her room and into the world.

The two best friends would have playful arguments, Shreya teasing Bhawna for being a hermit and Bhawna pretending to be annoyed, though she always appreciated her friend's efforts. While Sneha would be the silent audience with her imaginary popcorn. Not Caramel popcorns ofcourse.

But Bhawna knew her priorities. With her 12th-grade year in full swing, the stakes were high. The JEE Advanced and JEE Mains exams loomed ahead, along with the pressure to score at least 75% in her board exams because of the frustrating rules in place. Her dreams and aspirations were clear, and she was willing to work herself to the bone to achieve them.

Taking a sip of her tea, she returned to her books, her mind already running through complex equations and physics problems. The upcoming school year would be her final one-a chapter that marked the end of her school life and the beginning of something bigger.

Bhawna knew it would be anything but simple. Her schedule was packed: school, coaching classes, hours of self-study, and more. She had even crafted a detailed timetable, accounting for every minute of every day.

"Kal se school start ho raha hai," she thought, her heart sinking slightly. The last year. Her final chance to solidify the foundation of her dreams. She couldn't afford to waste a second.

[My school will start from tomorrow.]

Despite everything, she also recognized she was a step ahead. Her coaching classes had already covered several 12th-grade chapters, giving her an advantage over her classmates. Yet that didn't mean she would slack off. Bhawna was not one to rest on her laurels.

As she lost herself in another complex math problem, her mind wandered briefly to what awaited her. She imagined the familiar classrooms, the noise of students gossiping in the hallways, and the pressure of being a student. Yet she was ready. Or at least she convinced herself she was.

"Bas ek saal aur," she whispered to herself, her resolve hardening. One more year of giving it her all.

[Just one year more.]

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The alarm blared shrilly in the quiet evening air as the guy was taking nap after his study session, but it wasn't the usual sound that got to him-it was the nerves jangling through his body.

Shivaay Sharma, dressed casually in a black polo T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and slim waist, along with grey track pants and metal-framed glasses, paced back and forth in his room while adjusting his glasses.

His fair face had turned as red as a tomato, and he was trying, desperately, to convince his mother of one thing.

"Mummyyy" Shivaay whined to his mother who was standing infront of him with her hands on her waist like a typical Jethalal pose.

He continued," Nahi jaana mujhe kahin. Main ladka hun, main kaise jaa sakta hun waha?" he pleaded, voice almost cracking. His mortification was real, tangible, and he clutched the thela in his hands with a mixture of dread and disbelief.

{Mummy, I don't want to go anywhere. I'm a boy; how can I go there?}

His mother, however, seemed completely unbothered. She was standing in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, wearing the expression that told him there was no escaping this task.

"Main feminist hun, and I believe in equality," she declared with a matter-of-fact tone, pushing the thela and a wallet into his hands. "Toh ja. Urgent hai. Jaa abhi, aur jab shop pe pohonch jaaye, toh mujhe call kariyo."

{I'm a feminist, and I believe in equality. So go. It's urgent. Go now, and when you reach the shop, call me.}

Shivaay groaned, sulking as he looked at his mother with wide, puppy-dog eyes, hoping to melt her heart. But she only raised an eyebrow, completely unaffected. "Gosh, aap bohot ziddi ho, Mummy," he muttered in defeat.

{Gosh, you're so stubborn, Mummy.}

His mother didn't miss a beat. "Tabhi toh tu mere kaam karega, of course," she sassed, giving him a smug look. "Waise toh main tere bhai ko keh deti, lekin woh office gaya hai."

{Then only you'll do my work, of course. Otherwise, I would've asked your brother to do it, but he's at the office.}

Shivaay perked up slightly. "Haan toh woh jab raat ko waapas aaye, tab lene chale jaaye toh?" he suggested desperately.

{OK, then let him go when he comes back tonight.}

But his mother was having none of it. She gave him a look that shut down all further arguments. "Aur emergency ho tab raat tak wait karein?" she snapped, effectively silencing him.

He had no choice. Shoulders slumped, he reluctantly left the house, shooting one last puppy-eyed look at his mother. She only rolled her eyes and waved him off.

{And should we wait till night in case of an emergency?}

The street outside was filled with morning activity. People were out buying vegetables, kids were playing cricket, and uncles were busy chatting at tea stalls. Shivaay trudged along, each step feeling heavier than the last.

His embarrassment was eating him alive, and he kept his gaze fixed on the pavement. He hoped, desperately, that no one he knew would spot him on this cursed journey.

Despite his attempts to stay inconspicuous, his appearance didn't help. He was tall, his long legs carrying him with an effortless grace he wished he could hide. Girls passing by noticed him immediately, whispering and giggling to one another.

Some of them were younger, some his age, and some even older, but they all stared. Shivaay's fair complexion wasn't helping; he felt like a beacon of embarrassment, blushing furiously under their watchful eyes.

He muttered to himself, "Kash mere pair chhote hote aur main dhire-dhire chal paata," cursing his tall frame that made him walk faster, covering the distance to the shop much quicker than he wanted.

The shop was only fifteen minutes away on foot, but he wished he could extend that time-maybe walk for hours if possible. Yet his long legs betrayed him, and he soon found himself standing at the dreaded destination.

{If only my legs were shorter and I could walk slowly.}

He paused outside the shop, heart thumping in his chest. The hoarding above the entrance gleamed mockingly at him:

🎀 𝒮𝓉𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈: 𝐵𝓇𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒫𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓎 🎀

Shivaay swallowed, feeling his cheeks burn. His feet seemed rooted to the ground. He was Shivaay Sharma, after all. One of the popular boys of his elite school. The Commerce topper, the guy teachers adored and students admired. But right now? Right now, he was just a mortified boy standing in front of a bra and panty shop, clutching a thela as if it were a shield.

He remembered his popularity, which was usually a source of pride. At his school, being popular wasn't easy-there were other rich, good-looking students who were hard to compete with. But Shivaay had carved his place early on, becoming one of the three most well-known boys, respected for both his academic excellence and his charm. Yet all that fame seemed utterly useless at this moment.

His thoughts drifted briefly to the one person he wanted to notice him-Bhawna Trivedi. The Science Girl who barely knew he existed. He yearned for her attention, but fate had other plans today. He was on a mission that had nothing to do with impressing anyone, least of all Bhawna.

Taking a deep breath, Shivaay straightened up. He couldn't detour, even if he wanted to. His mother had given him explicit instructions, and if he dared disobey, she would find him and drag him back herself. Indian mothers were like that: fierce, protective, and unstoppable. No amount of popularity or charm worked on them.

He sighed, bracing himself as if he were a warrior about to step onto a battlefield. "Okay, Shivaay. Let's do this," he whispered to himself, clutching the thela even tighter. His inner monologue ran wild. He imagined himself clad in a metal suit, sword in one hand, shield in the other, marching into a war zone. This was his battlefield.

The Style Heights Bra and Panty Shop.

Steeling his nerves, he stepped forward. The shop awaited, and so did his destiny. As he pushed open the glass door, he silently prayed to every god he knew.

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Hope you liked the main characters. Enjoy reading and fasten your seat belts so that your journey to the highschool goes comfortable for you.

Now every characters will get their intro. I hope you love all of them.

Enjoy reading