The bell rang like a gunshot.
Ayan Mehra shoved his second-hand notebook into his bag and ducked into the classroom just as the teacher stepped in. Another close call. He found his usual seat—third row from the back, second from the left. The perfect spot to hide from attention. He didn't like being seen. Not when your shoes were patched with glue and your school shirt had its fourth button missing.
As he sat down, the world slowed.
There she was.
Rhea Kapoor.
Wearing her trademark red headphones around her neck, the wire dangling like a crown. Her long brown hair framed her face as she leaned on one hand, staring out the window. The sunlight danced on her cheekbones like it belonged there.
Ayan's heart did something weird. Like it skipped a beat and then decided to play catch-up.
He'd noticed her before, of course. Who hadn't? Rhea was the kind of girl who didn't need to try. She wore confidence like perfume. She wasn't loud or fake. She was… cool. Not ice cold, not fiery hot. Just effortlessly cool. The kind that read investment blogs, aced commerce without showing off, and quoted Elon Musk like he was a poet.
He didn't know when exactly his admiration turned into something deeper. Maybe it was the way she smiled when solving balance sheets. Or how she looked bored in every lecture except when the topic was money.
But admiration was dangerous. Especially when you had nothing to offer.
"Ayan, the new GST amendment—what's the impact on small businesses?"
The teacher's voice jerked him back into the now. A few students snickered.
"Uh… sorry, sir. Could you repeat the question?"
"You should repeat the syllabus," the teacher grumbled. "Next time, stay awake."
Ayan felt the shame creep into his spine. He didn't dare look around. But one glance told him Rhea hadn't even noticed. She was still looking out the window, tapping her pen against her cheek, lost in thought.
He sighed.
Lunch Break
Outside, he sat on the edge of the stairs, peeling the foil off his roti roll. His mom had packed leftover aloo sabzi again. Across the courtyard, students clustered in groups, laughing, filming Instagram reels, gossiping.
That's when he saw her again. Rhea. Laughing with Neha, her best friend, as they sipped cold coffee in the canteen. Their table had that invisible velvet rope—the rich kid's zone. Anyone poor like him? You didn't even look too long.
Just as he was about to turn away, something caught his ear.
"Fifteen thousand in a month, just from Dogecoin. Not bad, right?" Rhea said casually.
Ayan blinked.
Did he just hear that right?
"Crypto?" Neha asked, scrunching her nose.
"Yep. My cousin's helping me. It's fun, actually. Like a game. But with real stakes."
Ayan's brain lit up. Crypto. Investments. Money. He didn't know much about any of that, but he knew one thing—
If Rhea was into it, he needed to understand it. Fast.
That evening, he skipped sleep.
He went home, helped his mom pack dinner tiffins, then locked himself in the tiny shared bedroom with his old phone and a pile of scribbled notes. He searched YouTube:
"What is crypto?"
"Bitcoin for beginners"
"How to invest with ₹500"
He didn't sleep a second that night.
But he made a new promise to himself:
Become a millionaire before 25. Win her heart before college ends.
The Next Day
He entered class with tired eyes but a strange new focus. For the first time, the textbook on Business Studies didn't look like a punishment. It looked like a blueprint.
The teacher paired students randomly for a semester-long portfolio project.
Ayan's heart stopped when he heard:
"Rhea Kapoor… with Ayan Mehra."
The class laughed. Rhea looked up, curious. She didn't react. Just nodded slightly. Ayan sat beside her, too stunned to speak.
His hands were sweaty. His heart was on caffeine. And when she finally turned to him and said:
"So… Ayan, right? What do you know about stocks?"
He smiled awkwardly. "Absolutely nothing. Yet."
She grinned. "At least you're honest."
And just like that, the game began.