Adah’s POV
The hallway was full of people, but all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing.
It was happening again.
I could feel him.
Somewhere behind me. Watching.
I stared hard at the inside of my locker, pretending to look for something important. My fingers fiddled with the edge of my notebook, but my heart was thudding in my ears. Why did it feel like every time he was near, the air changed? He hadn’t said a word to me in a week, and yet I could feel his presence more than anyone else’s.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. No one else could make silence feel that loud.
And then—
“Adah.”
I froze.
His voice wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t loud either. It was low, calm, and steady—as if he was used to people listening when he spoke. It was the kind of voice you didn’t ignore, even if everything in you told you to run.
I turned around slowly.
Devansh stood there, hands in his pockets, his school tie loose like he didn’t care about the dress code. His white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and his eyes—God, those eyes—looked at me like they could burn through skin.
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said.
I blinked. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked to my hand. I was holding my pen—the same one I always used in class. At some point, I’d brought it to my lips, pressing it there while thinking. I hadn’t even realized it.
“You always do that,” he murmured. “With your pen.”
I pulled it away from my mouth immediately, embarrassed. “It’s a habit. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Still drives me insane.”
I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he meant. “What are you talking about?”
He didn’t look away.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rougher now. “That’s the problem. I don’t know why I’m this aware of you. Why I notice every damn thing you do. Why it bothers me when someone else sits next to you. Or when you laugh with someone who isn’t me.”
I took a step back instinctively, needing distance. “We’ve barely spoken.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
He took a step closer.
And then, gently, like he’d done it a thousand times before, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from my cheek.
My breath hitched. I felt it in my knees.
His fingers grazed my skin for barely a second, but it was enough to leave sparks behind. Everything inside me was suddenly too hot, too loud. I took another step back, heart racing.
“Don’t… don’t do that,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because…” I struggled to find the right words. “Because it’s confusing.”
“To you?” he asked, voice low.
“Yes.”
“Good.” His eyes searched mine like he was trying to find something hidden deep inside. “Because it’s confusing to me too.”
I looked away, needing to breathe. “Devansh, I don’t even know you.”
“Then know me,” he said simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Let me know you.”
“I don’t think I can.”
___
Adah’s Point of View
The classroom was louder than usual, filled with students dragging chairs, chatting, and flipping open notebooks. But to me, it was muffled—like someone had placed a thick sheet of cotton between me and the world.
I sat down in my seat, eyes glued to my notebook, pretending to read something while my brain scrambled for stability.
What was that?
My cheek still tingled where his fingers had touched. It was ridiculous. Stupid, even. How could a single second—one brush of his hand—shake me so much?
From the corner of my eye, I could feel him. Devansh. A few seats to the right, leaning back in his chair, eyes fixed on me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
And the worst part?
I didn’t hate it.
"Alright, quiet down!" Mr. Khurana called out, clapping his hands to bring order. “Today’s lecture will be short. After that, I’ll be announcing your partners for the new interdisciplinary project. You’ll be working together for the next few weeks, so I expect focus and cooperation.”
My stomach sank. No, please. Please not group work.
As if the universe was listening—and laughing at me—I heard my name echo across the room.
“Adah Mehra… and Devansh Malhotra.”
I froze.
Slowly, I looked up—and there he was.
Smirking.
Eyes locked on mine.
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath.
Devansh didn’t even blink. He got up and walked toward me, casual and confident, as if this was all part of some plan.
“Looks like we’re stuck together,” he said, pulling the chair next to mine without asking.
“Unlucky me,” I said without looking at him.
He chuckled—low and deep.
“You’ll survive. Probably.”
I glared at him. “Just—don’t make this weird, okay? Let’s just get it done and move on.”
His smile faded, replaced by something… softer. “You really think I want to make it weird?”
“I don’t know what you want,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes.
There was a pause.
And then, quietly, “Neither do I.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything. We just sat there, the space between us filled with questions neither of us could answer.
“Look,” I said finally, forcing myself to sound normal, “let’s just focus on the project. That’s all.”
He nodded. But the way he looked at me told me it wouldn’t be that simple.
And honestly?
A part of me didn’t want it to be.
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