Hey you… yes, you who just opened this story.
Before we dive into UNWRITTEN RULES, let me warn you—this isn’t your usual college romance. There’s tension. There’s obsession. There are moments that will make you bite your nails and whisper “Oh no, don’t do that!”
Meet Reyansh and Niyati soon. He’s unpredictable, charming, a little dangerous in ways you won’t expect. She’s calm, quiet, deadly with words, and not the kind of girl anyone can ignore.
Things will get messy, things will get intense… and trust me, you’re going to love every complicated second of it.
Ready? Let’s break some unwritten rules.
—Your storytelling - S 🎀 ✨
_________
📍 Aarambh University – Media Psychology Department
Monday – 9:00 AM
The classroom buzzed like every other day—some students half-asleep, others scrolling their feeds, a few exchanging notes out of habit, not interest.
Until the door clicked open.
A man walked in, sleeves rolled up, coat slung over one shoulder, like he didn’t need the classroom—the classroom needed him.
Sharp features. Dark eyes that scanned the room like a mind reader. And the kind of presence that didn’t need to raise a voice to command silence.
Phones dropped. Heads turned.
Reyansh (placing his coat on the chair):
"Welcome to Media Psychology. I'm Professor Reyansh Rathore."
No dramatic pause. No fake warmth. Just calm, chilling authority.
Reyansh:"This subject isn’t about media theories you can memorize the night before an exam. It’s about manipulation, perception, and control—the stuff media does to your brain before you even realize it."
He looked around—students already sitting straighter.
Reyansh:"And I don’t care how many followers you have on Instagram. If your brain isn’t active in this room—your presence is as useless as a trending reel."
A few students stifled nervous laughs.
Reyansh (deadpan):
"I wasn’t joking."
Pin-drop silence.
He walked slowly across the front of the class, gaze steady, pausing as he scanned each row—
Until his eyes landed on her.
---
Third row. Seat beside the window.
Black kurta. A silver pen resting on her neat notes. Expression calm, unreadable.
Niyati Roy.
The university’s topper.
Silent. Focused.
Unbothered by popularity, untouched by opinions.
She didn’t flinch under his gaze.
Didn’t offer a polite smile.
Just… watched him.
Like she wasn’t impressed.
But she was curious.
She didn’t know this man.
But she’d heard—youngest faculty member, transferred from Mumbai, brilliant mind with zero tolerance for mediocrity.
And right now?
He was watching her too long.
---
Reyansh blinked once and moved on.
Reyansh:"Let's make one thing clear—your grades will come from your mind, not your charm.
There’s no ‘ma’am, please recheck.’
No ‘sir, I was unwell.’
If you're in this class, you’re here to learn, or leave."
He turned toward the whiteboard and wrote just two words:
> “Perception Distorts.”
Then turned back.
Reyansh:"By the end of this term, you’ll question everything you see—
including yourselves."
---
In the back row, a girl whispered to her friend, “Hot, but scary.”
Someone else muttered, “He looks like he reads people for sport.”
But in the third row, Niyati Roy remained silent.
She just wrote down his words—precisely, neatly.
Not because she was impressed.
But because they made sense.
And in that moment, Reyansh Rathore noticed two things:
1. She didn’t blink much.
2. She wasn’t pretending to be impressed—like the rest.
____
What he didn’t know yet—
was that this girl, who said nothing,
would soon become the loudest chaos in his mind.
---
To be continued…
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