The next morning, a large crowd gathered at the department's notice board. Everyone was buzzing with excitement. The reason? The partner list for this semester's biggest research project had been posted. This project alone carried enough weight to determine the final results.
Tuli pushed through the crowd and stood at the front. Her eyes scanned the list frantically until they froze at a particular spot.
Group No-12: Ariyan Hossen and Tuli Arman.
Tuli's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't decide whether to be angry or happy. On one hand, Ariyan's humiliating words from before echoed in her mind; on the other, an unknown thrill sent a shiver through her.
Just then, that familiar deep voice spoke from behind.
"You must be very happy, aren't you? The mere thought of doing a project with a 'useless' person like you is ruining my mood."
Tuli turned around. Ariyan stood there with his hands in his pockets, irritation written clearly across his face. This time, Tuli didn't back down. She narrowed her eyes and retorted, "What do you mean by 'useless'? Did I ask for your pity? I'm not a robot like you, keeping a gloomy face twenty-four hours a day."
Ariyan took a step forward. The strong scent of his perfume hit Tuli's nose. He spoke in a low, cold tone, "Listen, Miss Tuli, this isn't a romantic movie. This is a serious project. Meet me tomorrow at 5:00 PM at the university cafeteria. I don't want my grades to suffer because of your negligence. Got it?"
Without waiting for an answer, Ariyan walked away. Tuli gritted her teeth in rage. "Rude! Arrogant! Just you wait until tomorrow... I'll show you how much of a scholar you really are!"
The next day at 5:00 PM. Ariyan was sitting in a corner of the cafeteria with his laptop. Tuli arrived exactly ten minutes late—on purpose. But when she sat down across from him, she noticed Ariyan was staring at his watch.
"Ten minutes late. In these ten minutes, I could have replied to at least three emails," Ariyan said without even looking up.
Tuli sat down with a huff. "I'm not your servant that I'd arrive at the exact second. Let's just start the work."
While they worked, Ariyan showed her some graphs on his laptop. Tuli was trying to pay attention, but her gaze kept drifting toward Ariyan's hand. On his right wrist, there was an old scar. It looked exactly like the scar her 'Ariyan Bhaiya' had—the one he got when he fell while climbing a Bakul tree once.
Suddenly forgetting the work, Tuli asked, "How did you get that scar on your hand?"
Ariyan froze. He quickly pulled down his sleeve to hide it. For a split second, a wave of deep sadness washed over his face, which didn't escape Tuli's notice.
Ariyan returned to his stern self. "Don't ask personal questions. Just focus on the work."
Tuli wasn't one to give up easily. Remembering the note, she said, "Is that blue note very dear to you? It looked quite old."
Ariyan slammed the laptop shut. His eyes were bloodshot. "Didn't I warn you? Don't poke your nose into my personal life. You're a rich girl; enjoy your status. There's no need to show curiosity about the life of an ordinary man like me."
Ariyan stormed out of the cafeteria like a whirlwind. Tuli sat there, stunned. Her mind was in a state of turmoil. Ariyan's momentary sadness and that scar—everything seemed to be connecting like threads of a single story.
Tuli whispered to herself, "Are you really my Ariyan Bhaiya? The one who promised to keep me like a queen? Or am I chasing the wrong person?"
Meanwhile, Ariyan stood in a corner of the university field, breathing heavily. The blue note in his pocket felt unusually heavy today. He knew—this Tuli was indeed his childhood companion. But he couldn't reveal himself yet. He didn't want Tuli to ever know that the prince of her dreams was now a penniless, middle-class youth, living only on sheer stubbornness.