THE PRICE OF BEAUTY

CHAPTER 1 “Her very beauty became a target in this realm, A penalty paid for mistaking every illusion as truth.” The hostel corridor was still quiet when Zoya stood before the small mirror above her deskrunning a wooden comb through her thick, dark hair. Pale morning light slid through the curtains and settled on her golden skin. Anyone else would have lingered. Zoya only checked that her scarf sat neatly and reached for her bag. "Zoya ' Are you still fighting with your hair?" The door flew open without a knock. Sana, her roommate and best friend since the first week of freshman year, bounced in with her phone clutched to her chest and a grin that meant trouble. "I'm not fighting with anything," Zoya said calmly. "The bus leaves at 7:15 and Professor Rahil locks the door at eight sharp." "Forget Professor Rahil for five minutes; Sana flopped onto Zoya's bed. "You won't believe what happened last night. Sameer called me. Again!" "He's called you every night this week." "Yes, but last night he called at midnight. Midnight, Zoya!" Sana pressed a hand to her heart. "He was standing under the lamp post outside his house, in the cold, just to hear my voice before I slept." Zoya raised an eyebrow. "Standing in the cold at midnight? That sounds like a cold waiting to happen." "You have no romance in your soul!" Sana threw a pillow at her. "He said, 'Sana, when we're married, I'll bring you the moon.' The moon, Zoya" "And what will you do with the moon?" "Put it in the living room, obviously." Zoya laughed despite herself. Sameer was Sana's fiancé. Their families had fixed the match a few months ago, and he spoke about everything as if he were the hero of a movie. At the bus stop, the cold air bit at their cheeks. A few boys from the engineering block stood nearby, and more than one of them forgot what he was saying when Zoya walked past. She didn't notice. Sana did. On the bus, they took the window seats. Sana kept listing Sameer's plans: a grand wedding hall, a white horse , a shower of rose petals. "Not a horse," Zoya said. "A horse," Sana insisted. Then, more softly, Sana asked, "Zoya, don't you ever want someone to call you at. midnight?" Zoya watched the trees race backward outside the window. "No. Love is a distraction. I came here to study, not to sit by a phone waiting." "One day you'll eat those words." "Never." Sana nudged her. "That boy at the back has been staring at you since the stop." Zoya didn't even turn around. "Which boy?" "See? That's exactly your problem." Zoya smiled faintly and rested her head against the glass. She had no idea that very soon, one wrong digit would change everything.