St. Xavier's College wasn't just an educational institution—it was a kingdom, and Aryan Mehra sat comfortably on its throne.

At twenty-one, he was everything the college brochure wished it could manufacture. Six-foot-two of solid muscle honed by daily basketball practice, shoulders that stretched every t-shirt dangerously, and a jawline that looked carved by a sculptor who'd been particularly inspired that day. His skin was the perfect warm brown, inherited from his Punjabi father, with dark eyes that held a perpetual smirk and lashes that made girls complain about unfair genetics.