California — The Villa — 9:00 PM
In a big villa overlooking the city lights, a surgeon sat alone in his room.
Azhan’s desk was covered with MS notes — thick files, highlighted papers, surgical diagrams.
His thesis was due soon.
His exams were approaching.
Every page mattered.
But he couldn’t focus.
His eyes moved across the same paragraph three times.
Four times.
The words blurred together, meaningless.
What am I thinking?
He closed the notes.
His heart was loud.
His mind was louder.
And somewhere between them — a face he couldn’t forget.
The angel.
The one he saw at the airport.
Before he even knew she was the scholarship student.
Before he knew her name — just a letter, C.
C, he thought.
What kind of name is that?
Just a letter?
C Ismail.
Not even a proper name.
He leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair.
Why am I thinking about her name?
Why am I thinking about her at all?
Downstairs, he heard voices.
His cousins — Amir, Sameer, and Sana.
Nineteen years old.
Triplets.
They had moved from New York last month, bringing their fast city energy with them.
They had applied to universities here, gotten admission in the software engineering department.
Software engineering, Azhan thought.
C is also in software engineering.
Stop.
He stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back.
He walked across the room — back and forth, back and forth — like a caged animal.
No distractions, he told himself.
No feelings.
No.
He went to the washroom.
Stood in front of the mirror.
Slowly, he took out his earrings — one, two — and placed them on the counter.
Then his lip ring.
Small.
Silver.
Catching the light one last time before he set it down.
His reflection stared back at him.
Blue eyes.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw.
The same face, he thought.
The same cold face.
Then why do I feel different?
He came back to the room and lay on the bed.
Tomorrow, he had surgery.
A normal day.
A normal life.
Normal, he thought.
Before yesterday.
Before her.
He closed his eyes.
Moved onto his side.
Then his back.
Then his stomach.
What am I thinking?
No.
Not you, C Ismail.
You are just a student.
A minor student.
I shouldn’t even—
Oh God.
Why did Riya ask me?
Why did I say yes?
He remembered her voice.
Soft.
Shy.
Barely above a whisper.
“I…
I did it.”
When she unbuckled the seatbelt.
When she looked up at him with those big brown eyes.
He smiled.
Yes, C Ismail.
You did it.
Then he caught himself.
What am I doing?
Smiling?
At a memory of a stranger?
No.
No.
No.
C Ismail, stay away from me.
He was fighting himself.
His heart against his mind.
His heart — which had been silent for years — was suddenly loud.
Demanding.
Confused.
And his mind — his sharp, controlled, disciplined mind — was losing.
He didn’t know it yet.
But he had fallen.
At first sight.
Room 101 — Same Night — 9:30 PM
The room was warm with soft light.
C and her roommates had returned from the canteen.
The evening was settling now — quieter, calmer.
Riya stretched her arms and yawned.
“Okay, C — lie down.
Sleep.
Tomorrow I’ll show you the hostel properly.
The laundry room, the study room, the garden — everything.”
She paused.
“And on Monday, 3rd September, I’ll show you the university.
Your classes start that day.”
C’s heart fluttered.
3rd September, she thought.
My first day of university.
Aminah sat on her bed, pulling her dupatta over her head.
“One new girl is coming tomorrow.
She’s nice — we met her before.
She’s from New York too.
Nursing department.”
Riya nodded.
“Yeah, Sophia Edward.
She’s cool.
You’ll like her.”
Then she looked at C, her voice softer.
“Kid, relax.
You had a long flight.
Go to sleep.”
Riya picked up her phone, typing quickly, a small smile on her face.
Aminah sat at the table, opening her books, ready to study.
Yasmin curled up on her bed, pencil in hand, sketching something C couldn’t see.
C sat on her chair.
She opened her travel bag — the dark blue one, worn at the corners, packed by Ami’s hands.
Inside, she found her sketch pads.
Hamad Bhai had packed them.
She didn’t remember putting them in.
Maybe he had slipped them in at the last moment, hoping she would remember she had a heart, not just a brain.
She opened the first pad.
Her pencil moved before she could stop it.
Lines formed.
Shadows.
An airport.
A crowd.
A man holding a cardboard sign.
C ISMAIL.
His face was almost complete.
The sharp jaw.
The dark hair.
The eyes — she couldn’t finish the eyes.
What am I sketching?
She stopped.
Her hand froze over the page.
Why am I drawing him?
She closed the pad quickly, her heart racing.
She pushed it to the bottom of her bag, buried under her clothes.
Focus, she told herself.
Focus on why you’re here.
She took out her programming books — the ones Hamad had packed, the ones she had studied a hundred times before.
She opened one.
Started reading.
Started making notes in her register.
Code.
Logic.
Algorithms.
Safe, she thought.
This is safe.
11:00 PM
The room went dark.
One by one, the lights switched off.
The soft glow of phone screens faded.
Breathing slowed.
C lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.
I miss Ami, she thought.
I miss home.
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Then another.
She wiped them quickly, before anyone could see.
Don’t cry, she told herself.
You’re here for a reason.
Then — she remembered.
Blue eyes.
A calm voice.
“You can contact me anytime.”
She had never spoken to a man outside her family.
Never.
Baba.
Hamad Bhai.
That was it.
But he was different.
He didn’t stare.
He didn’t make her uncomfortable.
He taught her the seatbelt.
He smiled when she figured it out.
“I did it.”
“That’s amazing.
You’re a fast learner.”
She smiled in the darkness.
Then caught herself.
Oh God.
What am I thinking?
Focus, C.
Focus on your dreams.
That’s why you’re here.
She closed her eyes.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
And somewhere across the city, in a big villa, a surgeon was fighting the same battle.
✍️
Two rooms, two hearts, one sleepless night, Both fighting feelings, taking flight.
She sketches lines she can’t explain, He calls her name, then calls it vain.
She tells herself to focus, breathe, He tells himself he must not grieve— A stranger’s face, a single ride, Two souls who can no longer hide.
— Next: Saturday — The New Girl.