It was supposed to be a normal Tuesday.
But then Preeti Ma'am, with the air of someone about to drop a nuclear bomb disguised as an academic task, clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.
"Class," she announced. "This week, you will all be working on a group project. It will be chart-based, and yes, it counts for marks."
The room broke into murmurs, groans, and at least one boy whispering, "My life just flashed before my eyes."
Nick, on the other hand, perked up. Group project? That meant social interaction. That meant teamwork. That meant…potentially being grouped with Pearl.
The only woman who had ever made him forget how gravity worked.
As Ma'am started reading out the random groupings, Nick silently chanted to himself.
"Please Pearl… please Pearl… please Pearl…"
"Group 4: Pearl, Nick, Rohit, Faizan, and Sahil."
Nick's head shot up like a meerkat. He turned to Zaid and K, eyes wide.
"I'M IN HER GROUP," he whisper-screamed, grabbing Zaid's arm like he just got selected for a mission to Mars.
Zaid deadpanned, "Congratulations. Don't mess it up like you do your math homework."
K snorted. "This is either going to be a love story or a disaster documentary."
Nick ignored them both. He was already imagining bonding over chart paper and highlighters, gently guiding her hand while drawing titles, maybe even offering her an extra glue stick with a romantic twinkle in his eye.
Spoiler: That did not happen.
The group gathered in the corner of the class. Pearl sat down and took out her notebook, already in work mode. Nick sat diagonally across, trying to act normal, which in his case meant being visibly weird.
Faizan and Sahil looked like they had just been told to mine gold from cement. Rohit was staring at his pencil like it owed him money.
"So," Pearl started. "We'll need material, printouts, and at least a rough layout by tomorrow."
Nick jumped in. "I can get the materials! Chart paper, sketch pens, scissors, glue—I've got a kit at home that would make a stationery shop jealous."
Pearl smiled politely. "Thanks. I'll collect the info and start on the layout."
The other boys nodded vaguely and vanished like smoke, no one knowing where, how, or why.
The bell rang, and Nick regrouped with K and Zaid.
"Guys. This is it. We're working together. It's fate."
Zaid looked suspicious. "You okay, Romeo? You're walking like you've just won a Nobel Prize for existing."
Nick grinned. "You don't get it. This is my chance to bond. To collaborate. To intellectually vibe."
K raised an eyebrow. "So… have you texted her about the project?"
Nick's smile faded. "Um. No."
Zaid groaned. "You absolute clown. This is your moment! Ask for her number!"
Nick panicked. "I can't just walk up to her and be like 'Hey can I have your number for… academic reasons.' That's weird!"
K sighed. "Fine. I'll ask her."
Before Nick could stop him, K casually strolled back toward Pearl, who was at her bench packing her stuff.
"Hey Pearl," K said with the chill of someone who had zero stakes in this social disaster. "Nick said he needs your number for the project."
Pearl blinked. "Who?"
K pointed without hesitation. "That guy."
Nick, who had been hiding behind a bench like a wartime journalist, froze as Pearl's eyes landed on him.
There was a pause. One of those cinematic moments where the background fades and dramatic violin music kicks in.
Pearl stared. "He asked for my number?"
K nodded.
She blinked again. "No."
Just like that.
No long explanation. No fake reason. No "I'll give it later." Just a flat, polite rejection.
Nick's soul left his body.
K walked back, hands in his pockets like a disappointed salesman. "Mission failed."
Zaid tried to hold back a laugh. "That… was so fast, bro. She denied you like Netflix denied my password sharing."
Nick groaned and dropped his face into his arms. "I wasn't ready."
"You were never gonna be ready," K said, patting him on the back. "At least it was quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid made of your hopes and dreams."
Zaid added, "Don't worry. You still got glue sticks."
⸻
That night…
Nick was in his room, staring at the materials he had proudly brought home. Chart paper. Pens. Glitter (even though he wouldn't use it thanks to school rules). His mum popped her head in.
"So, how was your little project group?"
Nick sighed. "Tragic. You know how in movies, the hero falls, but then he rises again? Yeah. I'm still in the falling phase."
His mom blinked. "Okay. Want some roti?"
Nick nodded. "You didn't hear half of what u said right."
His mother listening to a horror podcast
Nick stood outside the class after school, clutching a big plastic folder like it was a treasure map to a lost kingdom—except this treasure had glitter pens, chart paper, glue sticks, and enough sketch pens to supply an entire art class.
He'd bought everything as promised for the group project—red chart paper, gold marker, bold headlines. His backpack looked like it had been through a stationary explosion. And yet, for all the excitement earlier, now he just felt… flat.
Pearl approached from the corridor, tying her hair into a loose ponytail.
Nick's heart did a somersault. He had rehearsed a hundred lines in his head. "Hey, here's the stuff!" "Wanna brainstorm together?" "Your handwriting is probably as perfect as your notes…" But when she stood in front of him, none of those words made it out.
He simply extended the folder like he was handing over a resignation letter.
Pearl smiled politely. "Thanks, Nick. I'll finish it tonight."
Nick nodded, giving a thumbs-up like a side character in a movie. "Cool cool. No stress. Yeah."
She turned and walked away.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the space she had just occupied, then turned around like a tragic slow-motion montage had just played in his head.
—
Later that evening, K and Zaid were chilling at K's place. Nick arrived, slumped on the bean bag like it owed him money.
K raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
Nick looked up dramatically. "No. I'm not good. I'm emotionally malfunctioning."
Zaid tilted his head. "What happened? Did you finally get her number?"
Nick buried his face in a cushion. "No. I got my heart stepped on and lightly microwaved."
"What?"
"K asked her for the number."
Zaid sat up. "You didn't ask her yourself?"
Nick groaned. "I panicked, okay?! I thought she'd think it was smooth if it came from K. Like…like a classy mystery move."
K snorted. "Bro, she looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Who asked?' Then I had to point at you like a snitch in a crime documentary."
Zaid laughed so hard he fell off the chair. "She said no?"
Nick mimicked her voice in tragic slow-mo. "'Who asked?' Him. 'No.'"
He grabbed a tissue dramatically. "This isn't rejection. This is soul exfoliation."
K nodded sympathetically. "And she didn't even offer emotional compensation."
Nick wiped his forehead. "Next time, I'll just communicate through interpretive dance."
—
The next day, the finished project chart was on the wall next to the blackboard.
It was beautiful—clean, colorful, perfectly balanced. The title gleamed with golden marker. Pearl's handwriting, obviously. Her handwriting looked like it was created by angels who majored in calligraphy.
Nick stood there staring at it like it was a piece of Renaissance art.
Zaid leaned over. "It's nice. She really went full Picasso."
Nick didn't reply. He was too busy staring at the bottom-right corner of the chart.
There it was—the list of group members:
Pearl
Nick
Rohit
Jay
Manan
His name was right after hers. Not alphabetically. Not in order of contribution.
Just…after hers.
He turned to K and Zaid, eyes wide with fake romance. "Do you guys know what this means?"
K sipped his juice box. "You finally found your name?"
Nick pointed dramatically. "My name is right after hers."
Zaid blinked. "Okay?"
"In culture," Nick began, "the husband's name is attached to the wife's name. Like Meena-Ravi. Riya-Sachin. You know?"
K raised an eyebrow. "So?"
"So this is it," Nick said, as if narrating his own love story trailer. "She basically married me… academically."
Zaid burst out laughing. "You delusional little cupcake."
"No, think about it!" Nick said. "She could've written anyone else's name first. But she wrote mine. Right after hers. That's a sign!"
K rolled his eyes. "Yeah. A sign that she finished writing the names at 11 PM and didn't care."
Nick clutched his chest. "You guys just don't understand love."
Zaid patted his back. "No, we just understand reality."
Nick turned to the chart again. "One day, when they ask how it all started, I'll point to this chart. And I'll say—'This. This is where Pearl and I became… Project Partners.'"
K: "You mean group members."
Nick: "Don't ruin the vibe."
They stared at the chart for another minute in silence.
Zaid: "Should we take a picture?"
Nick: "Already did. It's my wallpaper now."
K: "Bro."
Nick: "Don't judge my coping mechanisms."
Zaid: "So what's the next move, Project Romeo?"
Nick exhaled dramatically. "Now…I wait. I wait for the next project. The next accidental pairing. Or a school dance. Or a lockdown that traps us in the library and forces us to bond over shared trauma."
K: "You've watched too many Netflix dramas."
Nick: "And yet… here we are."
They all stood there, staring at the chart one last time, before walking back to their class, Nick slightly happier than he was the day before—even if Pearl still didn't know that he now referred to her as his academic soulmate.