Beautiful Unavoidable Things !

 

Prologue

Ira Bansal lives in the soft spaces: cold coffee, sundresses, and the sweet scent of chocolate cake. She’s the girl-next-door heading to London to finally chase the boy she’s loved since they were twelve.

But Miles Rodrigues is a storm of black and silver—rich, reckless, and emotionally distant since leaving India for the Scottish coast. To him, she’s the "little sister." To her, he’s the world.

Enter Daniel Wright. blue, cream, and old-money silence. The best friend who notices everything Miles ignores.

One flight from India to UCL. Three lives about to collide. Ira thinks she’s chasing a dream, but she’s about to learn that love isn’t a race you win just by showing up.

~ Chapter One ~

The cursor blinked on the 'University College London' portal, a rhythmic, taunting heartbeat against the white glow of the laptop screen. For Ira, the humid air of her bedroom felt suddenly heavy, thick with the scent of jasmine from the garden and the suffocating weight of her own expectations. This wasn't just about a degree; it was more than that.

With a trembling finger, she clicked.

"CONGRATULATIONS."

The word seemed to vibrate. Ira didn’t scream. Instead, she let out a breath, she’d been holding since she was twelve years old—since the day her neighbour Miles stood in the dust of Rajasthan, his eyes hollowed by his mother’s death, promising they would find their way back to each other.

She didn't look for  her parents first to tell that she got in,  she didn't text the group chat. She hit the video call icon for a contact named miles!

The screen flickered. A moment of digital static, and then Miles appeared. The Scottish sun, far paler than the sun in Rajasthan, washed over his features. He looked older—he always did—with a sharp jawline that Ira still wasn't used to and hair perpetually tousled by the North Sea wind.

"Ira?" his voice came through, deep and slightly raspy from sleep. "It’s barely dawn here. Is everything—"

"I’m in, Miles!," she whispered, holding the laptop up to the light as if the screen could physically touch him. "UCL. I got the offer."

A slow, lopsided grin spread across Miles’s face—the kind of look that made Ira’s stomach perform a slow, agonizing somersault. "I never doubted it," he said, his voice softening. "Not for a second, Ira. You’re coming to London!!!."

"We're going to be in the same city again," she said, her heart hammering against her ribs. She searched his eyes through the pixels, looking for a sign—a flicker of something more than friendship, a hint that he saw her as the woman she was becoming rather than the girl he’d left behind.

"The same city," he repeated with sleepy eyes, "I have to get up early so i will sleep, but... I'm proud of you. Truly."

When the call ended, the silence in the room felt louder than the conversation. she went out of her room in search of her parents to give them the good news.

Later that afternoon, the quiet was shattered by Rhea, who burst into Ira’s room with the subtlety of a hurricane.

"Don't even try to look humble," Rhea joked, flopping onto the bed and grabbing a handful of the celebratory snacks Ira’s mother had already started preparing. "You’ve got the brains, and now... you have the boy."

Ira turned away, fussing with her bookshelf to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. "It’s not about him, Rhea. It’s about the university."

"Right. And I’m the Queen of England," Rhea snorted. She sat up, her expression turning uncharacteristically serious. "Ira, you’ve been head over heels for Miles since he was a scrawny kid in Jaipur. You’re eighteen now. You’re moving across the world. Are you actually going to tell him, or are you going to keep playing the 'best friend' role until you’re eighty?"

"I am just scared ,,what if I lose the friendship" Ira said quietly, her fingers tracing the spine of an old book Miles had given her. "He moved away years ago, he has a completely different life there!" saying this made Era feel sick.

"You have to try atleast or you might regret it your whole life?" Rhea countered.

The evening was a blur of laughter and marigold garlands. Her parents’ house was filled with the smell of samosas (Indian snack) and  tea. Her father beamed, his chest puffed with pride as he told the neighbors about the "London-return" daughter he would soon have. Her friends cheered, toasted to her future, and took endless photos.

But amidst the noise and the celebration, Ira’s mind kept drifting back to the pale light of a Scottish morning on a laptop screen. She felt like she was standing between two worlds: the warm, familiar safety of her home and the cold, thrilling uncertainty of a life near Miles.

She was a girl with a dream and a plane ticket, but as she looked at her reflection in the window, she wondered if London was big enough to hold the secret she had been carrying for six long years.

                                              ~ Chapter Two ~

Airports don't pause.....ever. 

They keep moving — with rolling suitcases, blinking departure boards, and last-minute announcements that sound far too calm for something as life-altering as leaving home.

Ira stood near the security line at Jaipur International, her backpack slung over one shoulder, passport tucked safely inside the front pocket. Her parents stood a few feet away, trying very hard to act normal.

“Text when you land in Dubai,” her mother said.

“I will.”

“And eat something,” her father added

She smiled. “sure, Papa."

But when she hugged them goodbye and stepped into the security line alone, that when it hit her. This was it.

Not just London.

Not just University College London.

but,

Miles.

Same campus. 

Same city. 

Same air.

Her heart beat faster at the thought.

The first flight blurred past in half-sleep and half-daydreams. She tried watching a movie but ended but imagining every scenario when she meets Miles after all these years! 

Four hours later, the lights of the city shimmered below like someone had spilled gold across the desert.

Dubai International was enormous — glass ceilings, polished floors, luxury brands glowing from every direction.

Ira followed the signs carefully , double-checking every arrow before turning. She was not getting lost in a country she wasn’t even staying in.

Her connecting flight to London was in four hours.

She found her gate, dropped into one of the metal lounge chairs, and immediately texted home.

"Landed in Dubai." 

Her mother replied within seconds- "take care. love you"

Her father sent: 👍

She smiled softly.

Then she opened Miles’ chat- "In Dubai. Next stop London."

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Then:

"You’re almost here!"

Short. Simple.

Her chest warmed anyway.

He was already in London. Already at UCL. Probably somewhere between lectures and coffee runs and a life she hadn’t seen.

She locked her phone.

Coffee. Definitely coffee.

The café near Gate B12 was crowded but quiet — strangers speaking in soft accents, baristas moving with choreographed efficiency.

Ira stepped into line, adjusting the strap of her tote bag.

That’s when, someone walked straight into her.

Not brushed. Not bumped.

Walked.

Straight.

Into her.

Her boarding pass slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry—” she began automatically, bending down at the same time the other person did.

Their heads collided.

Not gently.

A sharp knock.

“Ow!” Ira snapped, sitting back on her heels.

“Well, that was coordinated,” a male voice said dryly.

She looked up.

There stood a guy  around her age. Maybe a little older. Dark hair, clean-cut. Wearing a navy blue hoodie and cream trousers. There was a faint smile tugging at his mouth — not apologetic at all.

He picked up her boarding pass before she could.

His eyes scanned it briefly.

“London,” he noted. “You’re standing in the wrong queue.”

“I am not,” she said immediately.

“You are.”

She stood, snatching the boarding pass from his hand. “This is the line for Pre-ordered coffee,” saying this he tilted his head toward the sign above.

"Pre-order Pickup"

Her eyes moved slowly upward.

Oh!

There was a separate line to the right for ordering coffee.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

“Well,” she said stiffly, “they should make it clearer.”

“They have,” he replied. “It’s in very large letters.”

Ira forced a tight smile. “Thank you for your unnecessary commentary.”

“You’re welcome.”

She moved to the correct line.He moved behind her.

Of course he did.

She could feel him there. Calm. Silent. Probably judging her existence.

Her drink arrived. She grabbed it quickly.

As she turned to leave, he added, “By the way.”

She paused, annoyed already.

“The gate is changed.”

Her heart jumped. “What?”

He tilted his head toward the overhead screen.

Gate B16.

Not B14.

Her pulse spiked.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not that invested.”

She turned and checked the board herself.

He was right.Her stomach twisted.

“Relax,” he added lightly. “It’s two gates away. You’re not missing London.”

She hesitated.“…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Try not to headbutt anyone else on the way.”

She walked off before she could say something regrettable.

Gate B16 was calmer.

She sat down, placed her coffee on the small table beside her, and exhaled slowly.

Okay.Embarrassing airport interaction.

Not fatal.

She looked up.And froze.

Navy hoodie.

Cream trousers.

Same gate.

Same London flight.

He noticed her staring. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

“Let me guess,” he called lightly across the row of seats. “Gate change surprised you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you follow everyone you annoy?”

“Only the ones flying to London.”

A boarding announcement echoed overhead.

London.

She looked at him again.

“You’re going to London too?” she asked despite herself.

He took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered.

“Unfortunately for you.”

She turned away immediately.

Annoying.Completely, absolutely annoying.

And somehow—

This flight had just become a lot less boring.