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Author's POV

The evening air was crisp, and Manvi was in no mood for her mother's dal-chawal. After a bit of stubborn pouting, she convinced a reluctant Krithika to head to the new bistro in town. After a long struggle for getting permission from their parents both mannu and kittu started for the bistro. Coincidentally, Dhruv had dragged a brooding Anant to the exact same spot, swearing the food was the best in the city.

The moment the four collided at the entrance, the energy shifted. Dhruv and Manvi's eyes met with an instant, knowing spark.

"Since we're all here, why not grab a table together?" Dhruv suggested smoothly.

Krithika stiffened. "I don't think that's a good-" "Please, Kittu! It'll be fun!" Manvi pleaded, pulling her sister's arm.

Anant looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but Dhruv was adamant. Soon, the "Academic Rivals" were forced to sit across from each other, while the "Budding Lovers" sat side-by-side.

The contrast was hilarious. Dhruv was gently serving Manvi, his hand lingering near hers as he offered her the best portions. Anant watched them, a brow raised, thinking, 'Something is definitely cooking between these two.' Krithika noticed it too, her protective sister instincts flaring. For a second, her gaze met Anant's-a shared realization of their siblings' chemistry-before she quickly looked away.

Naturally, the silence didn't last. "I heard the library ordered new reference books," Anant said, his voice dripping with challenge. "I'll likely finish them before you even get your library card renewed."

"I've already reserved them, Anant. Don't worry about my pace," Krithika snapped back.

Dhruv and Manvi exchanged tired looks, trying to steer the conversation back to normalcy. However, a call from the Gupta parents cut the night short. Since it was late, Dhruv offered them a ride. But fate had other plans. Halfway home, the car let out a violent sputter and died.

"Stay inside," Dhruv instructed, hopping out to find a mechanic he'd seen a few blocks back.

That's when the shadows moved. Three rowdies, sensing a target, approached the car with glinting knives and malicious grins.

Anant's POV

Everything happened in a blur. When the first guy tried to reach through the window for Krithika, I didn't think. I just reacted. I threw the door open, slamming it into one of them, and stepped out.

"Back off," I snarled.

I expected the girls to scream and hide, but to my shock, the Gupta sisters jumped out too. Krithika grabbed a heavy flashlight from the door pocket, and Manvi swung her heavy bag like a mace. We were holding our own until I saw the leader pull a switchblade, lunging at my chest while my back was turned.

"Anant, look out!"

I turned just in time to see Krithika do the unthinkable. She didn't just block him; she grabbed the blade. She gripped the sharp steel so tightly with both hands that the rowdy froze in shock.

Just then, Dhruv appeared in the distance with the mechanic. Seeing reinforcements, the cowards scrambled into the darkness.

I turned to Krithika, and my heart stopped. Blood was pouring from her palms, staining her dress. "Kittu!", Manvi shouted.

I went into a total panic mode-a feeling I had never experienced. My hands, usually so steady with a pen, were shaking as I grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk. Manvi started sobbing, the sight of so much blood breaking her spirit, while Dhruv tried desperately to find a signal to call a cab.

"Sit. Now," I commanded, my voice cracking.

She sat on the edge of the car seat, her eyes red and swimming with tears, her breath coming in sharp, pained hitches. She was trying to be the "Strong Girl," but the pain was brutal. I knelt before her, carefully cleaning the deep gashes. Every time she flinched, a part of me winced with her.

"I've got you," I whispered, my usual arrogance completely replaced by a raw, terrifying fear for her. "Just breathe, Krithika. Just breathe."

Krithika's POV

The pain was white-hot, like fire licking my skin. But as I sat there, watching Anant, the pain became a dull roar in the background.

I was in total shock. This wasn't the selfish, ego-driven boy who mocked my scholarship. His face was pale, his jaw set in a hard line of concentration, and his hands-though trembling-were incredibly gentle as he bandaged my wounds. He looked... devastated. Like my pain was his own.

He wasn't acting like a "Titan" or a "VIP." He was just a boy trying to bandage a girl.

I watched him wrap the gauze, his eyes focused entirely on my hands. For the first time, I saw the shades of the person beneath the mask. He wasn't just a rival; he was someone who is caring for me.

'How many shades do you actually have, Topper?' I wondered silently. My heart, despite the trauma, did a strange, fluttering somersault. Maybe I had been wrong about him all along.

The war of the books just turned into a battle of hearts.

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