Saraswati Global Academy, Delhi NCROne week before the Annual School Fest
---
“Move, Malhotra. You’re not even on today’s schedule.”
Rhea Kapoor didn’t bother looking up from her clipboard. Her tone, however, was sharp enough to cut through the chaos surrounding the wedding booth.
Balloons were deflating, the AI audio system was stuck playing the chorus of a cheesy wedding song on repeat, and students in ridiculous groom-bride costumes were laughing, taking selfies, and pretending to marry their crushes for fun.
And now, of course, he had to show up.
Aarav Malhotra.
Student Council President. Her archrival. And possibly the most irritating human being to walk the halls of Saraswati Global Academy.
Aarav leaned casually against one of the arch pillars, expression unreadable. His school jacket was crisp, his posture effortless, and his dark hair looked just unkempt enough to appear stylish.
“Vice President Kapoor,” he greeted with mock respect, “as President, I’m here for a quick inspection. Quality control.”
“You mean drama control,” Rhea snapped. “Don’t you have a robotics demo to prepare for?”
“Sent my team ahead.” Aarav shrugged. “Besides, I heard this booth was trending. Thought I’d see what all the buzz was about.”
“You’re not here to see anything. You’re here to mess something up.”
He gave a faint smirk. “Guilty as charged.”
Rhea glared at him. Aarav Malhotra had a talent for two things: winning every inter-school event by a slim margin, and getting under her skin. Their rivalry was infamous. Whether it was school elections, quiz bees, or charity drives—if Rhea was fire, Aarav was ice. And every clash between them drew attention.
But today wasn’t about him. Today was her event.
“I swear, if you cause even a minor malfunction—”
“I brought gulab jamuns,” he said, holding up a box. “Can’t I at least get a free photo op?”
Several girls nearby giggled. Rhea looked heavenward.
Then, in a moment that would become historic, the booth’s AI chimed loudly:
> “Welcome! Please state the names of the couple for registration.”
A few nearby students paused and turned. Someone whispered, “Wait, did they just trigger it?”
“I didn’t authorize that,” Rhea said quickly, stepping back. “System, cancel—”
> “Names detected: Aarav Malhotra and Rhea Kapoor.”
> “Matching voice signatures. Registering.”
“What the—?!” Aarav blinked. “I didn’t even—”
> “Digital marriage certificate processing... completed.”
Rhea stared in horror as a golden scroll printed out of the side console. Their names. Their faces. And worst of all...
A seal from the Delhi Youth Civic Database.
Silence. Then the sound of one student snorting, followed by another bursting into laughter.
“Wait… are they seriously married now?!”
“YO! This isn’t part of the booth prank—look at the stamp!”
Phones came out. Photos were taken. And in less than thirty seconds, the school app lit up with trending notifications.
> #AaravRheaShaadi#PresidentWedsVP#SchoolFestPlotTwist
Rhea grabbed the scroll, scanning it desperately.
“This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a glitch.”
Aarav stepped closer. “It says we’re legally registered under the new AI sync protocol. That’s... government-level, Rhea.”
“No. No no no. I’m not actually married to you.”
The booth’s AI added insult to injury:
> “Annulment possible after 365 days. Until then, enjoy your newlywed status.”
The color drained from Rhea’s face.
“We’re stuck in this for a year?!”
More laughter. More whispers. She could already imagine the memes. The reels. The press screenshots.
“I’m going to murder you,” she hissed under her breath.
Aarav looked surprisingly calm. Maybe even... amused?
“Look on the bright side,” he said. “You just married the most eligible bachelor on campus. Prestige points.”
“I swear, I’ll make you regret this entire year.”
“I already do,” he muttered, eyes on the glowing certificate in her hand.
It was supposed to be a simple fest event.
But now, Saraswati Global Academy’s top two student leaders—rivals, enemies, and heirs of competing business empires—were accidentally married for one full year.
Please log in to leave a comment.