Lunch break was just winding down when the bell rang, echoing across the hallways and snapping everyone back into school mode. Nila wiped her hands on a tissue, packed her letter, and got up along with the rest of her classmates. The sleepy lull after lunch still clung to the air, but everyone was already discussing the next class.
First up was second language.
Nila headed to her French class, where the teacher greeted them with her usual brisk energy. The moment everyone had settled down, the teacher began distributing a pink worksheet to each of them.
"Today's task is simple," she announced, "You are going to write ten sentences in French, describing yourself. No online translators, no copying. This will be checked tomorrow."
Groans rippled through the classroom.
Nila took the sheet and stared at it for a moment. Describe myself? In French? A few words came to mind—je suis étudiante, j'aime les livres, but beyond that, she knew she'd have to dig deep into her memory. Still, the assignment felt oddly personal, and she welcomed it. She began scribbling down a few ideas in English first, thinking about what really described her in this life, and what would have described her in the last one.
Forty minutes flew by, and the bell rang again. Next was PT. Or more accurately, it should have been PT yesterday, but the coach hadn't shown up, and the Maths sir had filled in with a surprise "Laws of Exponents for Real Numbers" session. So, everyone was eager to see if they'd actually go outside today.
But instead of going to the auditorium like they expected, their PT coach walked into their own classroom with a file in hand.
"Alright," he said, clapping once. "We'll do house grouping here itself. Auditorium is being busy with ID card Photo Session."
Excited murmurs broke out across the class.
The coach turned to the board and quickly wrote in bold chalk letters:
ARJUN – KARNA – BHEESHMA – ABHIMANYU
"From today onwards," he continued, "you'll all be part of your houses. The school is divided into four houses. Arjun—yellow, Karna—green, Bheeshma—red, and Abhimanyu—blue. You'll represent your house in sports, cultural competitions, and school events. You don't get to pick your house—I'll assign them."
That killed half the excitement.
He started calling out names from the attendance register. "Nishanth – Arjun. Prerna – Bheeshma. Aarav– Abhimanyu…"
Every name came with a mix of reactions—some cheered for getting the same house as their best friend, some sighed at being separated.
Nila sat in quiet anticipation.
"Nila – Abhimanyu."
Blue. She blinked. She'd been sorted into Abhimanyu.
She wasn't sure what she expected, but somehow blue felt calming. Not fiery like red, not bold like yellow or wild like green. Blue was steady, thoughtful… maybe a little mysterious too. Last life also she was in Abhimanyu's house.She gave a small nod to herself as if accepting an invisible pact.
After the last name was called, the coach made a quick mark in his register next to each student. Then, he instructed them all to follow him in a single line to the sports equipment room.
The air buzzed with new energy as they walked through the corridor, house names already becoming part of teasing conversations.
"Yellow will win for sure, Arjun has the best players!"
"Please! Green has all the seniors—we'll crush everyone!"
Nila stayed silent, amused by the banter. She didn't care much about the competition. Not yet. But she did like the feeling of belonging—of being placed into a group, even if it was random. It gave a strange sense of structure in the chaos of boarding life.
Once they reached the equipment room, the coach opened a dusty almirah filled with bundles of track pants and T-shirts. He began distributing them based on the house groups.
One by one, students came forward, received their sportswear, and stepped aside to make way.
When it was her turn, he handed her a folded navy blue T-shirt with "ABHIMANYU HOUSE" printed on the back and matching track pants. She held the bundle in her arms and smiled. Somehow, this made it official.
"Wear this during sports and any inter-house event, also every Thursday, this is your Uniform," the coach instructed. "You'll be called for selections soon. Until then, keep this safe."
As they walked back to the classroom, most students were busy discussing their new house identities.
"Do you think we'll get a war cry too?"
"Last year, Bheeshma's house had that loud chant during sports day."
Nila tucked her clothes neatly into her bag, suddenly feeling like she had a small badge of identity—something that marked her space here.
Blue suited her just fine.
By the time they returned to class, the classes went in a blur, and the last period was over. A bell rang gently, marking the beginning of the 3:30 to 4:30 study hour. The room was quiet, heavy with the lazy warmth of late afternoon. Some students took their time to stretch, yawn, and slowly unpack their books. The silence was calming—not the tense kind that happens during exams, but a soft, shared understanding that everyone was just doing their own thing.
Nila chose her usual place near the window and opened her science notebook. She knew she needed to revise a few diagrams for the upcoming test. Just as she sat down, she noticed Nishanth walk in and settle at the table beside hers.
He didn't look at her. Not directly, at least.
She tried not to look at him either. But there was something magnetic about proximity. A kind of awareness that grew stronger when no one acknowledged it.
For the next one hour, they didn't say a word.
Not a tease. Not a side-eye. Not even a nod.
But both of them were acutely aware of the other's presence. She could sense him flipping pages, the occasional sound of his pencil scribbling something. And once or twice, when she turned to grab her eraser or shift position, she caught a glimpse of his hand, his posture, the corner of his cheek in the slanting light. Once, she even noticed him steal a quick glance at her from the corner of his eye.
But neither said a thing.
It wasn't silence born out of awkwardness or pride—it was something else. A quiet curiosity. Like two kids watching a firefly from a distance and not wanting to scare it away by moving too fast.
They sat like that until the bell rang.
As students stretched and packed their bags, Nila slowly stood up, eyes meeting Nishanth's for a fleeting second—neither of them smiled, but neither looked away instantly either.
Then the moment passed.
Evening playtime was already buzzing by the time she stepped out. The courtyard was alive with the sound of bouncing basketballs, sprinting footsteps, and girls forming groups near the badminton nets and skipping corners.
Nila made her way toward the basketball court, as usual, stretching her arms and legs to loosen up. As she dribbled a ball near the side, a few seniors from Abhimanyu house walked by. One of them, Shane, paused and gave her a half smile.
"Hey, you're in Abhimanyu too now, right?"
Nila nodded, slightly surprised that he knew.
"We saw you play a few times last week," he said, gesturing toward the court. "Not bad. You've got a sharp pass."
Another senior, Meera, chimed in. "Yeah, very few girls even try basketball. It's usually boys crowding the court. You already play, so we thought maybe you should go for the team."
"The team?" Nila repeated, not quite sure how serious they were.
"The school basketball team," Shane clarified. "Tryouts won't happen for another few months—probably three or four. But now that you're in Abhimanyu, we can easily coordinate practices. It'll help to know each other's style in advance."
Meera added, "You have time. Just keep playing. Don't try to be perfect now. Nobody expects that. Just show up. Be consistent. That's how you get noticed."
Nila smiled, a little startled by their support but warmed by it too. She'd never really thought of trying out formally. In her past life, she'd been the type to hide behind responsibilities, to suppress personal interests for the sake of someone else's timetable. Basketball had just been a way to breathe, nothing more.
But this time—maybe she could try. Just for herself.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "I'll keep that in mind."
She returned to the court, picked up her ball again, and began practicing free throws. With each shot, she felt her body fall into rhythm—step, lift, release. The swish of the ball through the net felt like a small reward. The court was her space now. Not just a passing escape.
Shane and Meera watched for a moment before heading off, giving her a thumbs up.
As the sky turned from gold to dusky lavender, the evening air cooled, and the sounds of the school softened. Nila looked around—so much had changed in such a short time. Her house was blue, her routines were forming, and even the silence between two people now felt charged with meaning.
She knew things were still shifting, but for once, she wasn't rushing to control them.
Maybe she could just let herself be—show up, breathe, play… and let the rest unfold on its own.