THE COLLISION

       It wasn’t love or hate that collided,

just two wounded egos protecting what mattered......                                     

"Stop it guys......" shouted the girl i think Isha's bestfriend, but i know she was the girl from the other night , the girl whose crying eyes haunted me for days don't know why but i felt something when her crying eyes met mine that night. I left  the collar of one of her friends which i was holding tightly during the fight. I did what she said again don't know why.(ahhhhhhhh internally shouting). Tumlog kutto ki trh kyu lad rhe ho, woh bhi bina baat ke jhagda nhi krte (translation:

Why are you all  fighting to each other like dogs, even they don't fight without reasons.) Kamiyar leave his collar the boy who started the fight named kamiyar left vardaan's collar....."Ira tum nhi smjh rhi mai aise ladko ko bhut acche se jaanta hu ladki dekhi nhi ki patane aajate"kamiyar said.

IRA 

A small smile formed on my lips.

So that was her name.

I didn’t know why it mattered. I didn’t know why my chest felt oddly lighter just knowing it. Maybe because names made people real—and she had already been too real to ignore.

Then—

SLAP.

The sound cracked through the air, sharp and unforgiving.

For a second, no one moved.

Not Kamiyar.

Not Kartik.

Not Vardaan.

Not even Ira.

Isha stood frozen, her hand still raised, fingers trembling.

The silence after the slap was louder than the fight itself.

“What the hell, Isha?” Kamiyar snapped, shock flashing across his face.

“I told you to stop,” she said, her voice shaking but firm. “I told you.”

Vardaan didn’t touch his cheek. He didn’t react the way someone who had just been slapped usually would. He just stood there, staring at the ground, like the sound had finally knocked the words out of him.

“I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself.

I knew that look.

That was the look of someone realizing they had ruined something they didn’t know how to fix.

The slap still echoed in my ears.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t pause.

I didn’t weigh right or wrong.

I just reacted.

“What the hell was that?” I snapped, stepping in front of Vardaan instinctively. “You didn’t even let him explain.”

Isha looked at me like she hadn’t expected that—like she hadn’t expected anyone to stand there with him.

“He deserved it,” she said coldly. “Some things don’t need explanations.”

“That’s convenient,” I shot back. “Hurt someone first, then decide they’re not worth listening to.”

Vardaan grabbed my arm. “Aarav, rehne de.”

But the anger had already settled in my chest.

Kamiyar laughed bitterly. “Dekha? Ek aur.”

I turned to him sharply. “Shut up.”

Ira’s voice cut through us. “Bas!”

She moved forward, standing between Isha and Vardaan now.

“Tum sabko lagta hai yeh fight hai?” she said, her voice trembling. “Tum log sirf apni ego dikha rahe ho.”

She turned to me.

And for the first time since I’d known her, her eyes weren’t soft.

“They were walking peacefully,” she said. “Tum log beech mein aaye.”

Something inside me cracked.

“So now it’s our fault?” I asked incredulously. “You didn’t even ask what happened.”

“I saw him grabbing her,” I said. “That was enough.”

“And I saw Isha crying,” Ira replied instantly. “That was enough for me.”

The words collided mid-air.

For a moment, no one spoke.

I felt something dark rise in me—something I hadn’t felt in years.

“So you’ll take her side,” I said slowly, “no matter what?”

Ira’s lips parted slightly, like she hadn’t expected that question.

“Yes,” she said after a second. “Because she’s my best friend.”

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

“Then don’t pretend you’re being fair,” I snapped. “You’re just choosing comfort over truth.”

Her eyes widened.

“That’s rich,” she said quietly. “Coming from someone who didn’t even know what was going on.”

The road fell silent.

Isha tugged at Ira’s sleeve. “Chhod na, Ira. Chal.”

But Ira didn’t move.

“I saw a misunderstanding,” I said finally.

"She wasn’t,” Vardaan said quietly.

Everyone turned to him.

“She wasn’t crying because of me,” he continued, voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Isha flinched.

Ira looked at her sharply.

“Sorry?” Kartik repeated. “Kis baat ka sorry?”

Vardaan swallowed. “Propose karne ke liye. Galti ho gayi.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Ira’s gaze snapped back to Vardaan, then to Isha.

Kamiyar looked between them, uncertainty creeping into his expression. “Isha…?”

Isha didn’t answer.

She couldn’t even look at him.

“I said sorry,” Vardaan repeated, like if he said it enough times, it might finally reach her. “I shouldn’t have done it like that. I panicked. Mujhe laga—”

“Bas,” Isha said suddenly.

Her voice broke.

“Bas karo.”

She turned to Ira. “Chalo.”

Ira nodded immediately.

After They Left

I watched them disappear down the road.

No guilt.

No regret.

Just irritation—sharp and burning.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

Vardaan glanced at me. “What?”

“That girl,” I said. “She talks like she knows everything.”

“She was defending her friend.”

“So was I,” I snapped. “But somehow I’m the villain.”

Vardaan stayed quiet.

That annoyed me.

“She didn’t even listen,” I continued. “Just decided.”

“She’s biased,” I said bitterly.

I kicked a stone across the road.

“She thinks men are always wrong.”

Vardaan sighed. “She’s intense.”

“She’s judgmental.”

“She’s loyal.”

“So am I.”

He smiled faintly. “You two are very similar.”

That irritated me.

“I’m nothing like her.”

“She’s stubborn.”“So am I?”“She’s convinced she’s right.”

“So was I.”I exhaled sharply. “Exactly.”

Silence settled between us.

“And Aarav,” Vardaan said quietly, “she thought you didn’t care about Isha. Only about being right.”

I scoffed. “She only cared about loyalty. Not truth.”“Then you’re even,” he said.

We stopped at the corner.I turned away, already done with the conversation.

Let her believe whatever she wanted.

Let her think I was wrong.

Because from where I stood, she was no better—

just louder, just angrier, just convinced she was right.

I didn’t look back.

If I did, I knew I’d say something worse.

My footsteps were fast, uneven, anger buzzing under my skin like static. Isha walked beside me, quiet—too quiet—but right now, I didn’t know how to comfort her without exploding first.

My head already hurt.

The day had been terrible.

The pre-board paper had gone worse than I expected. Numbers blurred. Questions mocked me. The invigilator’s voice echoed like pressure building inside my skull. I’d walked out knowing I hadn’t done well—and I hated that feeling. I hated feeling like I was already falling behind.

And then this.

As if my brain hadn’t already been stretched thin enough.

“Tumne mujhe roka kyun nahi?” Isha asked softly.

I stopped walking.

“What?” I turned to her sharply.

“When I slapped him,” she said. “Tumne kuch bola hi nahi.”

I clenched my fists.

“Because you were hurt,” I said. “And when you’re hurt, you don’t owe anyone explanations.”

Her eyes softened. “Ira—”

“No,” I cut her off. “I don’t want to hear that I overreacted. I saw him holding you. I saw you crying. That was enough.”

She hesitated. “But he was saying sorry—”

“And?” I snapped. “Does that erase how you felt?”

Isha fell silent.

We resumed walking.

But my mind wasn’t on her anymore.

It was on him.

Aarav.

The way he’d stepped in front of that boy without hesitation.

The way his voice had sharpened when he spoke to me.

The way he’d looked at me like I was being unreasonable.

As if I hadn’t watched my best friend break.

As if I hadn’t already had the worst day.

Who did he think he was?

“He didn’t even listen,” I muttered under my breath.

“What?” Isha asked.

“Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was everything.

He hadn’t asked what happened.

He hadn’t looked at Isha.

He hadn’t cared how shaken she was.

He’d just decided—just like that—that his version was right.

And the audacity of calling me biased?

My chest tightened.

Choosing comfort over truth, he’d said.

I scoffed internally.

As if loyalty was a weakness.

As if standing by someone you love made you blind.

No.

It made you human.

By the time we reached the turn near Isha’s house, my irritation had hardened into something sharp and stubborn.

“Ira,” she said gently. “Tum thodi zyada gussa ho.”

“Because I am,” I replied. “And I have every right to be.”

She studied me. “That boy—Aarav—he wasn’t completely wrong.”

That did it.

I stopped again.

“What?”

“He was protecting his friend,” she said carefully.

“So was I,” I shot back. “Why is that so hard to understand?”

She sighed. “I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying,” I interrupted. “And I disagree.”

Because if I started doubting myself now, I knew I’d spiral.

Because today had already tested me enough.

Because I was tired of always being the calm one. The understanding one. The one who adjusted.

Not today.

Today, I chose my side.

And if that irritated him?

Good.

Let it.

                                       Later That Night

I sat on my bed, books open in front of me, but nothing registered.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Kamiyar:

I still think that guy was shady.

I didn’t reply.

Another buzz.

From Kartik:

Things escalated fast. You okay?

I stared at the screen, then locked my phone.

The image replayed in my head.

Aarav’s eyes—dark, intense, unyielding.

The way he’d looked at me like I was wrong.

Like I hadn’t thought this through.

Like I was being emotional.

My jaw clenched.

You don’t know me.

You don’t know how hard today was.

You don’t know how much pressure I’m under.

You don’t know what it’s like to constantly hold things together.

And yet you judged me in seconds.

I grabbed my pen and pressed it down too hard on the page.

The ink tore through.

Perfect.

That was exactly how I felt.

Broken concentration.Broken patience.And irritation—deep, simmering, unresolved.

If he thought I was unfair?Fine.If he thought I chose comfort over truth?Let him.

Because from where I stood, he was just another person who spoke loudly without listening.And the worst part?

A small, unwanted voice inside me whispered—

He’s just as stubborn as you.I pushed the thought away.I didn’t want similarities.I didn’t want understanding.I didn’t want him occupying space in my already crowded mind.

From that moment on, I decided one thing:

If Aarav and I crossed paths again—I wouldn’t explain myself.I wouldn’t soften.I wouldn’t care.Because irritation, once rooted, doesn’t fade easily.It waits.And it grows.

                          Neither of us was wrong.

                       Neither of us was ready to listen.

                           That night, I didn’t miss him.

              I hated how loudly he stayed in my head.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***