📗 Chapter 1: The Knock on the Door

Sunday afternoons usually meant two things for Vinna Basu: a long nap that never happened and a half-hearted attempt to study topics she'd already postponed three times. Today was supposed to be the same—until her mom decided to change the script.

"He said he's home," her mom said casually, stirring the dal in the kitchen. "Mrs. Samtani replied. Rishi can help you."

Vinna froze at the dining table, a pencil halfway to her mouth.
"You actually asked her?" she said, her voice just a bit too high. "I told you not to—"

"Beta, it's not a marriage proposal, just a physics doubt."

Vinna shot her a horrified glare. Her mother laughed, clearly enjoying the drama.

She tried to argue, but the truth was—she did need help. This particular chapter had made her feel like she was running in circles. The way the NEET questions twisted even basic concepts felt like mental gymnastics, and she was tired of falling on her face.

Still, knocking on someone's door for academic help—especially a boy's—was outside her comfort zone. She was the kind of girl who avoided unnecessary eye contact, let alone initiating conversation with a neighbor she barely knew.

"He won't bite," her mom added with a grin. "You used to play together as kids."

"That was when we were, like, five," she mumbled.

But resistance was futile. Ten minutes later, she was standing outside Flat 3B, holding her physics notebook like a shield. Her hands were clammy. She stared at the wooden door as if expecting it to burst open and swallow her whole.

Then came the worst part—the knock.

It wasn't loud. In fact, it was so soft that she considered leaving and pretending it never happened. But before she could turn around, the door creaked open.

Rishi Samtani stood in the doorway, his expression neutral, a phone in one hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear.

"Hey," he said. His voice was deeper than she remembered.

"Uh...hi. I'm—Vinna. Basu. From 2A."

He smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know. Come in."

His room smelled faintly of coffee and new books. A few charts were pinned to the wall—physics formulas, math tricks, a calendar that looked scarily organized. There was music playing softly in the background—lofi beats with no lyrics. His desk was cluttered, but not messy. It looked...lived in.

"So, what's the enemy topic?" he asked, pulling out a second chair beside his desk.

She sat down, careful not to touch anything, and opened her notebook. "Rotational motion. Specifically torque and moment of inertia."

He gave a small whistle. "Heavy stuff."

"I know."

Rishi leaned over her book, scanning her notes, then pointed. "You're mixing up radius of gyration with moment of inertia. It's a common slip."

As he explained, Vinna found herself slowly relaxing. He didn't make her feel stupid. He didn't talk down to her. He explained things like a classmate—not a tutor—and his calmness rubbed off on her. For the first time in days, the chapter began to make sense.

When he used a pen cap and a key to physically demonstrate torque on the table, she actually smiled.

"You should teach," she said, before she could stop herself.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just invent something one day and blow stuff up for fun."

She laughed, then quickly bit her lip. She wasn't supposed to laugh. Not here. Not with him. Not during study time.

"Want chai?" he asked suddenly. "My mom just made some."

She hesitated. "I—uh..."

"Just say yes. Or she'll send it anyway."

A few minutes later, they were sipping warm, sugary chai while going over practice problems. For a while, the pressure of exams melted away, replaced by something softer, something simple.

When she finally got up to leave, he walked her to the door.

"Thanks," she said, genuinely. "I... needed that."

He leaned against the doorframe and gave her a half-smile. "Anytime, Physics Warrior."

She shook her head with a shy smile and walked away, notebook hugged to her chest.

Back in his room, Rishi picked up her forgotten pencil. He turned it over in his fingers once, then placed it neatly on the corner of his desk.