When I woke up this morning, I didn't even bother to go for yoga. I just rushed to the bathroom, took a quick bath, and immediately sat down to continue the embroidery.
The mirror work had to be pasted by evening. That meant I had only the morning hours left to finish all the stitch detailing. The embroidery needle moved like a rhythm in my hand, faster than usual but still careful. I wasn't going to let all the effort unravel with one loose thread.
I made it to class early again. As usual, it was just me and Nishanth in the classroom.
He looked up the moment I entered, raising an eyebrow like he'd been waiting. "So... why didn't you tell me?"
I blinked. "Tell you what?"
He leaned back, arms crossed. "That you were dancing."
"I wasn't dancing dancing," I said, sliding into my seat. "I was just in the mood yesterday. The music was playing. The vibe was good. It just happened."
"Oh, just like that? Full half-saree costume, perfectly timed steps, expressions on point—and you say it 'just happened'?" His tone was all mock disbelief.
I grinned. "It did just happen. I was enjoying the music. And anyway, how do you even know? It was in the girls' corridor."
"I have my sources," he said smugly. "And clearly, they're reliable. I get the news faster than the school announcement board."
"That happened last night. And you're bringing it up now—first thing in the morning."
"Because I'm still recovering from the shock." He leaned in slightly. "Tell me one thing, if we were to dance, who's going to cover backstage?"
"I'm not dancing."
"But imagine if you did—"
"I said I'm not," I cut him off, laughing. "Stop building hypothetical performances."
He tilted his head. "You looked like you were having the time of your life yesterday."
"I was," I admitted, tying my plait loosely. "I'm not performing, but my friends are. So, I'm kind of living the fun through them."
"Ooooh," he said, dragging out the sound dramatically. "So that's why the half-saree came out."
"Oh, shut up."
"Tell me the truth—was there slow-motion spinning involved?"
"Absolutely," I said without hesitation. "With fan breeze and background score too."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're something else."
I just shrugged. "Anyway, let's not get distracted. We still have a lot to finish before Saturday."
"Yeah," he agreed, pulling out his notebook. "And for the record, if you change your mind and decide to dance... I'll be there to take care of backstage. Maybe."
"Maybe?" I raised an eyebrow.
"I might be too busy recovering from your surprise solo performance."
We both burst out laughing, and just like that, the morning stress felt a little lighter.
Neither Nishanth nor I could concentrate much in class today. Even the teachers seemed to sense we were floating somewhere else entirely. We weren't being disruptive or anything—but our heads were already backstage at Freshers Day, setting up lighting plans that didn't exist yet and imagining dramatic costume reveals that probably wouldn't happen.
At break, I slipped out quickly to get the embroidery materials. Sastika's friend, Pranav, was right where he said he'd be—near the cycle stand, bag in hand. He handed me the packet like we were doing a secret exchange in a spy movie. I peeked inside and was thrilled. The round, diamond, and oval-shaped mirrors were perfect. The fabric glue bottle looked heavy enough to last us all evening.
"Bill was two-twenty," he said. "But I kept the receipt in case you want it."
I smiled. "Keep the change. And tell Sastika she officially saved my life."
He laughed and left without much fuss, just the way I preferred it. I rushed back to the dorm to hide the materials safely before heading back to class.
During the last two periods, I was supposed to be preparing for a test, but my notebook turned into a checklist—mirror pasting timeline, group assignments for the magazine, reminders to collect feedback from participants, and camera permission formalities. My handwriting became messier by the line, but I kept scribbling until the bell rang.
Evening study was thankfully productive, in a very non-academic way. Nishanth and I had asked our computer sir if we could meet after class. He'd agreed, a little curious, a little amused.
We sat in the lab with him, me with my checklist and Nishanth with a rough website layout on his laptop.
"So this is not an assignment?" sir asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, sir," I said quickly. "But it's... school-related. Like co-curricular."
"We're starting a digital magazine," Nishanth added. "Tomorrow's event is going to be our first BTS feature."
Sir looked at us both like we were slightly mad but also slightly brilliant.
"You'll need structure," he said, taking Nishanth's laptop. "Not just content. Organizing folders, naming systems, editing timeline…"
"Can you help us get the photos too?" I asked hopefully. "Since you'll be taking them anyway?"
He nodded slowly. "I'll help. But I'm not doing the work for you."
"We don't want that," I said honestly. "Just... guidance."
That seemed to impress him. He told us which parts of the lab we could use, what time to come tomorrow, and even agreed to let Nishanth shadow him during the photo session.
As we left the lab, I turned to Nishanth. "We might actually pull this off."
He grinned. "Of course we will. I already feel like a journalist."
"You're more like an excited tech intern."
"Same thing," he shrugged.
I just shook my head, smiling. Tomorrow would be hectic. And wild. And possibly a little magical.
But tonight—I had mirrors to paste.