The heat was beginning to shift — less like summer, more like something restless waiting to happen.
In the Banerjee household, it showed in subtle ways.
Extra notebooks appeared on tables. Teachers' WhatsApp groups buzzed with "exam pattern changes." Even Mrs Banerjee started reminding the boys to "sit down and revise properly" instead of scrolling through their phones.
But if you walked into Ishaan and Aaron's room, you'd never know.
Isabella stood at the door, half in disbelief, "Shouldn't you two be studying?"
Aaron looked up from his sketch pad, trying to draw a character from a manga panel. "We are."
Isabella opened her mouth to argue, but paused. He wasn't even looking at her properly — yet there was something annoyingly calm in the way he smiled, like he knew something she didn't. It was infuriating… and oddly distracting.
"You're drawing," Estella corrected, crossing her arms.
"Exactly," Ishaan said, tossing a ball in the air. "Stress relief. Science-backed."
The girls exchanged a look — that particular brand of look shared by people who'd studied at dawn and expected everyone else to do the same.
"You do realise exams start next week?" Isabella pressed.
"Hmm," Aaron replied, leaning back. "That's future Aaron's problem."
Estella sighed. "Do all Indian boys study like this?"
"Pretty much," Ishaan chirped. "It's called strategic procrastination."
As the girls started to move out of the room, they were filled with more questions than answers.
"You know, since coming here, heck, even meeting them, I have seen them so laid back, the school has practically given a week off and he has an Accounts test at the centre today, yet beside the chaotic days, they are so laid back and well…." Isabella looked confused and a bit disappointed.
"Ya, I get it like how they were in Alzaras and them here it so different, like I was a little expecting a laid back life of Ishaan but Aaron, I am shocked", Estella added.
The day proceeded, and the girls in their room metacalously studied, whereas the boys studied too, but half-heartedly, sometimes walking, sometimes listening to music or something.
By afternoon, the contrast in the house was almost comical.
In one room, Isabella and Estella sat cross-legged on the bed, notes spread out neatly, highlighters lined up like soldiers. The fan creaked above them, the only sound besides the occasional mutter of "Focus, Estella, focus!"
In the other, the Banerjee brothers had declared war on boredom.
Aaron was now half-studying, half-listening to old Bollywood music, scribbling "important definitions" in handwriting that even God would find hard to decipher. Ishaan was doing sit-ups for "mental activation."
Every ten minutes, one of them yelled, "Break!" and both would go get biscuits.
From the girls' room, Isabella could hear faint laughter — the kind that made her blood boil and envy bloom together.
"Are they… laughing?" she whispered.
"Yes," Estella said flatly. "Apparently, Accounts and laughter go hand in hand."
Isabella stood up and stormed furiously out of the room into Aaron's and Ishaan's room, where they were still in their merry little worlds.
"You've done nothing since morning," Isabella said, snatching Aaron's notes.
"Half your answers are doodles!"
"That's how commerce students remember things," he replied. "Visual learning."
"This isn't art class."
"Then teach me the 'royal' way," Aaron said, leaning closer, teasing but earnest.
For a second, their eyes met — and Isabella wasn't sure who was testing who. Yet seeing the concern in Isabella's eyes, he really started asking some questions.
In 2 hours, he completed three 6-marker questions.
By evening, the boys left for tuition.
The girls, deciding to "just check" on how serious things were, went to the centre an hour later to bring them back.
What they found, however, was… not tuition.
Outside the narrow building, a crowd of students had gathered — some with open notebooks, others drinking chai, someone strumming a guitar (of course, it was Aaron).
She hated to admit it, but the way his fingers moved — effortless, precise — looked a lot like the discipline she'd been preaching herself all day. Just hidden under rhythm instead of routine.
Aaron sat on the low wall, calmly playing chords while another boy quizzed him.
"Bro, difference between capital reserve and revenue reserve?"
"Depends," Aaron replied, strumming, "on how sleepy you are in the exam."
Laughter rippled through the group, and there, in the middle of it, sat Ishaan — with a football between his feet, explaining to a friend how "running laps helps the brain process trigonometry."
Estella turned to Isabella, her voice a low whisper.
"They… are supposed to be studying."
"They are," Isabella said bitterly. "Apparently through music and sports."
Aaron spotted them and waved. "Hey, you came early! Want to join the study jam?"
"Is this what you call studying?" Isabella asked, half amused, half horrified.
Aaron grinned. "You'd be surprised how much we retain when there's chai involved."
Ishaan noticed Estella watching the football circle. He jogged over, slightly breathless.
"Want to join?"
"In that dust? No, thank you," she said.
"That's the best part," he grinned. "You feel alive."
"I already do," Estella said dryly — but her eyes followed him anyway, laughing despite herself when he tripped mid-dribble.
On the way home, the girls were unusually quiet.
Even Mrs Banerjee noticed. "Everything okay, beta?"
"Yes, aunty," Isabella said, "we just… didn't realise studying could look like a festival."
Mrs Banerjee chuckled knowingly. "Ah, that's how Indian students do it. Panic, pray, then perform. You'll see."
That night, from their room, the girls could hear faint music — Aaron's guitar again.
And from the other end of the house, Ishaan's voice rang out:
"Ma! Where's my maths notebook? Exam's next week!"
"Under your pillow!"
The soft strumming drifted through the walls — gentle, thoughtful.
Isabella tried to ignore it, but her mind kept circling back.
"You're thinking about him," Estella whispered from the next bed.
"I'm thinking about how someone so careless can sound so composed," Isabella said.
Estella chuckled. "Same thing, Izzy."
Isabella threw a pillow at her — but her smile lingered longer than it should have.
The light in Aaron's room flickered out around midnight. But not before he said softly, to no one in particular,
"Tomorrow. We'll actually study tomorrow."
And with that, Delhi exhaled into another night — the city balancing between panic and peace, just like every student about to face exams.
From across the hall, Isabella heard it too — that lazy promise.
She shook her head, pulling the blanket over herself. But as the guitar's echo faded, a strange calm settled inside her.
Maybe she didn't mind the chaos as much anymore.