Chapter 1 : Never Wanted Accident

The last bell rang at St. Xavier’s High, but nobody was rushing home. The annual school fair was the most awaited day of the year, and this time, the campus looked more like a buzzing mela than a disciplined academic ground. Bright stalls lined up across the football field, music blared from the DJ booth, and the smell of pani puri and momos filled the air.
Students were running around in bright T-shirts, some carrying balloons, some fighting over candy floss, and others shouting discounts at the top of their lungs. Teachers, pretending to supervise, were secretly enjoying the golgappas.
And right in the center of this madness stood the one person who looked totally misplaced—Aarav Malhotra, the school president.
Calm. Composed. White shirt perfectly ironed, laptop bag slung across his shoulder, expression as blank as a freshly formatted hard drive.
“Malhotra, at least smile, yaar!” a junior teased while running past.
Aarav didn’t even look up from his laptop screen. “Smiling consumes unnecessary calories. I’m saving energy.”
The junior blinked. “Bhai… kya logic hai. (What kind of logic is this?)”
“Scientific one,” Aarav replied without glancing up. His fingers flew over the keyboard as though the world around him was static noise.

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On the other side of the field, someone was the noise. Rhea Sharma, vice president, stormed past a group of students carrying a megaphone.
“Oi! Who put the rangoli stall next to the pani puri stall? The colors are mixing with the chutney!” she barked, hands on her hips.
“Sorry Rhea ma’am!” two juniors squeaked, trying to move tables.
“And you! Yes, you with the candy floss machine—do NOT aim that thing towards the rides! Last time half the Ferris wheel turned pink!”
Everyone knew Rhea was bossy, dramatic, and absolutely exhausting. But nobody dared complain, because she was also the heart of the fair—her energy kept everything running.
Spotting Aarav calmly working in the middle of chaos was like spotting a monk meditating in Times Square.
Rhea marched straight to him.
“Excuse me, Mr. President!”
He typed another line before looking up lazily. “Yes, Vice President Drama Queen?”
Rhea glared. “Are you seriously coding right now? At the fair? Our fair?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Rhea threw her arms in the air. “Unbelievable! Do you have any idea how many things are going wrong?”
“I don’t need to,” Aarav deadpanned. “You’re already announcing them loud enough for the entire neighborhood to know.”
Nearby students chuckled. Rhea’s eyes narrowed. Aarav’s calmness was her biggest irritation in life. He never shouted, never got flustered, and always managed to turn her anger into a public joke.
“You are impossible,” she hissed.
“And you are predictable,” he replied, tapping a key. “Every year, same routine—fair starts, you scream, I work. Balance of the universe remains intact.”
Before Rhea could explode, their mutual friend Zoya, treasurer of the student council, skipped over holding two ice lollies.
“Beta log, thoda shaant ho jao. (Kids, calm down.) You both fight like my parents in Big Bazaar during Diwali sales.”
Among the dozens of quirky stalls, one stood out: “Shaadi Mubarak Booth – Marry Your Best Friend!”
It was meant to be harmless fun. Students could sit on a tiny stage decorated with fake flowers, wear plastic garlands, and get a printed “Marriage Certificate” stamped by the booth owner—an enthusiastic alum who thought it would be “interactive.”
Couples, best friends, even siblings had already rushed in, posting photos with captions like “New relationship unlocked 😂”.
Zoya’s eyes sparkled the moment she saw it. “Arey wah! (Oh wow!) Rhea, we should totally drag Aarav here.”
Rhea smirked. “Haan, let’s prank Mr. Calm Genius. Maybe marriage vows will finally break his poker face.”
Aarav, still scrolling on his laptop, raised an eyebrow. “I heard that.”
“Good,” Rhea shot back. “Be prepared.”
Before Aarav could escape, Rhea and Zoya grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the booth. Students cheered, recognizing the infamous President-VP duo.
“Shaadi! Shaadi! Shaadi!” voices echoed.
“Absolutely not,” Aarav said firmly, though his voice still sounded more like a polite rejection of Wi-Fi terms and conditions.
“Oh come on, it’s just a booth,” Rhea mocked. “Or are you scared of commitment, Mr. Malhotra?”
Zoya added fuel: “If you don’t do it, rumor banega (rumor will spread) that the President is scared of Vice President’s dulhan vibes.”
Aarav pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew saying no would only add to the chaos. Sometimes compliance was the best defense.
“Fine. Two minutes. Nothing more.”
“Perfect!” Rhea chirped, victorious.
They stepped onto the tiny stage. Plastic garlands were put around their necks. The crowd whistled and clapped.
The booth operator clicked a button, and a printer whirred. Out came a marriage certificate with both their names—“Aarav Malhotra & Rhea Sharma.”
Rhea gasped. “Wait… this looks—”
Suddenly, a giant projector flickered on. The certificate, instead of staying private, got auto-shared to the school’s official social media app due to a glitch.
On screen, the words appeared in bold:
“CONGRATULATIONS! PRESIDENT & VICE PRESIDENT TIED THE KNOT AT OUR FAIR! ❤️ #PresidentVicePresidentShaadi”
The crowd went insane. Phones whipped out. Memes started circulating within seconds.
One student posted: “Plot twist: School fair turned into Karan Johar movie.”
Another tweeted: “Breaking: Aarav + Rhea = Power Couple Goals. #ShaadiSeason”
Within minutes, the hashtag #PresidentVicePresidentShaadi trended across the school’s private app.
Rhea’s jaw dropped. “WHAT THE—”
Aarav looked at the screen, then at Rhea. His expression didn’t change much, except his lips twitched slightly.
“This,” he muttered dryly, “was not in my timetable.”
Rhea exploded. “Tumne kiya na! (You did this, right!)”
“Yes, obviously,” Aarav said sarcastically. “I hacked the booth just to marry you in front of five hundred people. Because I had no better plans.”
The sarcasm stung. The students howled with laughter.
Rhea stomped her foot. “I can’t believe this!”
“You should,” Aarav replied calmly. “Statistically, this was bound to happen eventually.”
“What?!”
“Murphy’s Law,” Aarav explained. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Today, it just chose us.”
Zoya was on the ground laughing. “Arre yaar, ye toh epic hai. (Oh man, this is epic.) I’m telling you, this video is going viral.”

Teachers rushed over, panicked. “What is happening here? Marriage? At a school event?”
The booth operator scratched his head. “Sir, madam, it was just a fun stall! But the system… uh… connected with the school media page by mistake.”
The principal’s phone buzzed non-stop. Parents started calling. Rumors flew across WhatsApp groups.
Meanwhile, students refused to let Aarav and Rhea leave without posing for “just married” pictures. They were handed a fake mangalsutra, toy sindoor, and even a plastic shehnai.
“Rhea ji, how does it feel to be Mrs. Malhotra?” a junior teased with a mock interview mic.
Rhea threw a ladoo at his head.
“Aarav bhaiya, any honeymoon plans?” another shouted.
Aarav deadpanned, “Yes. Straight to the library.”
The entire ground erupted in laughter.

By the time the fair ended, Aarav and Rhea were the hottest gossip of the school. Their phones buzzed with nonstop notifications, memes, and messages.
Aarav walked calmly out of the field, laptop still in hand. Rhea stormed beside him, muttering curses.
“This is the worst day of my life,” she grumbled.
Aarav glanced at her and said, “Correction. Worst day of our life. Apparently, we share that now.”
Her eyes widened. “You—ugh!”
They parted ways at the gate, but both knew one thing: this accident wasn’t going away anytime soon.
On his way home, Aarav opened his phone. A notification popped up—#PresidentVicePresidentShaadi has crossed 10,000 posts.
He sighed. Never wanted accident, he thought. But accidents… are never this loud.