The monsoon in this city was never romantic; it was a chaotic mess of muddy puddles, broken umbrellas, and the constant smell of wet asphalt. For Adid, it was even worse. Today was the final deadline for his Physics research paper, and the rain seemed determined to ruin his academic career.
Adid was the kind of student who lived in the shadows of the library. With his thick-rimmed glasses and a habit of mumbling formulas under his breath, he was the definition of an "invisible topper." He clutched his waterproof file against his chest as he hurried through the crowded corridor of St. Xavier's College, his sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floor.
"Just two more minutes," he muttered, checking his watch. "Professor Zaman doesn't accept excuses, even if it's a hurricane."
He took a sharp turn near the cafeteria, his mind busy calculating the force of gravity on a falling raindrop. He didn't see the blur of blue denim and expensive perfume coming from the opposite direction.
THUD.
The impact was solid. Adid's glasses flew off his face, skidding across the floor. The file he was holding so dearly slipped from his grip. Time seemed to slow down as the pages—the result of three sleepless nights—flew out and landed directly into a puddle of muddy water leaking in from the open balcony.
"Ugh! Are you blind? Do you keep your eyes in your pockets or what?" a sharp, high-pitched voice snapped.
Adid blinked, his vision a hazy blur of colors. He knelt down, his hands trembling as he reached for his glasses. Once he slid them back onto his nose, the world snapped into focus—and his heart sank.
Standing in front of him was Raisa.
In St. Xavier's, Raisa wasn't just a student; she was an institution. The daughter of a billionaire board member, the lead of the drama club, and the girl every guy wanted to date and every girl wanted to be. She was currently dusting off her jacket with a look of pure disgust.
Adid looked at his papers. They were soaked. The ink was bleeding, turning his complex equations into black smudges. Something inside him—usually so quiet and reserved—snapped.
"Actually," Adid said, his voice surprisingly steady, "if you weren't sprinting through a hallway while staring at your phone, the laws of physics would have allowed us both to pass unharmed."
The corridor went silent. A few students nearby gasped. No one spoke to Raisa like that.
Raisa froze, her hand still on her jacket. she looked at him as if seeing a strange insect for the first time. "Excuse me? Do you even know who you're talking to?"
"I know exactly who you are," Adid replied, standing up and collecting his ruined papers. "You're Raisa. Roll number 5. But apparently, Roll 5 thinks she's immune to the rules of momentum. You were the stationary object, and I was in motion. You shifted your trajectory without signaling. You do the math—if you even know how to."
Raisa's face turned a deep shade of crimson. "You... you nerd! You just ruined my mood! Do you have any idea how much this jacket costs?"
"Probably more than my tuition," Adid said, his gaze cold. "But it's not as valuable as the three nights of sleep I just lost because of your clumsiness. Good day, Raisa."
He turned on his heel and walked away, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had just insulted the most powerful girl in college. He was doomed.
But in his rush, Adid didn't notice that his small, black leather-bound sketchbook had fallen out of his bag during the collision. It lay there on the floor, unnoticed by the crowd, until Raisa's expensive sneaker stopped right next to it.
Still fuming, Raisa looked down. She scoffed, picking it up with two fingers. "The nerd dropped his diary," she muttered to her friends, who had gathered around. "Let's see what's inside. Probably more boring physics laws."
She flipped it open to the first page, ready to mock him. But her words died in her throat.
It wasn't a physics law. It was a charcoal sketch. A girl was sitting by the window of the college library, the sunlight hitting her face in a way that made her look soft, ethereal, and almost... human.
Raisa recognized the girl immediately. It was her. But it wasn't the "Ice Queen" the college saw; it was the version of herself she only saw in the mirror when she thought no one was watching.
At the bottom of the page, a single line was written in neat, cursive handwriting:
"A beautiful equation that I can never solve."
Raisa's breath hitched. Her anger didn't vanish, but it was suddenly clouded by a confusing, sharp sting of curiosity.
"Who are you, Adid?" she whispered to herself, closing the book and hiding it inside her bag before her friends could see.