The bell rang, signaling the end of the economics class, and with it, the start of Adah’s careful operation of Avoid Devansh 101. She had caught him staring at her again. Not the casual glance kind. No, this one was the full, intense, still-as-statue kind. The kind that seemed to reach past skin and bone and straight into her soul.
Adah quickly bent over to gather her books, keeping her head down. She could practically feel the weight of his gaze on her, thick like honey, slow and inevitable. She muttered something to Kiara about heading to the library to get a head start on the assignment, but Kiara smirked knowingly and only said, “I’ll meet you there.”
Too late.
“Adah.”
Her name, wrapped in the smooth baritone of Devansh’s voice, froze her in place. Her fingers gripped her notebook tighter, knuckles whitening.
She turned, slowly. “Yes?”
He looked ridiculously good for a regular school day. Crisp uniform shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the tension in his forearms, hair slightly mussed as though he'd run his fingers through it too many times. His eyes, the color of stormy midnight, were fixed on her like she was the only thing anchoring him to earth.
“I thought we could start working on the history project. We’re partners, after all.”
She blinked. “Oh. Uh... now?”
“If you’re free,” he said, with a soft smile that held just a trace of mischief.
Adah hesitated. Her instinct screamed to say no—to preserve the shaky shield she’d built over the past week. But her mouth betrayed her. “Fine. The library.”
They sat across from each other at one of the study tables in the back corner of St. Aurora’s grand library. Afternoon light streamed in through the tall windows, casting golden patches on the mahogany floor.
Adah kept her eyes glued to the textbook in front of her. She wrote quickly, trying to get the outline done.
Devansh, on the other hand, wasn’t even holding a pen.
She peeked up. “Are you going to help or just supervise?”
He chuckled. “I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“Which topic would be best to drag out over two weeks.”
Adah shot him a look. “We don’t have two weeks to drag anything. It’s a massive project, Devansh. You may have all the time in the world, but I don’t.”
He leaned in, elbows on the table, voice low. “I was under the impression that working together meant... working together.”
His fingers brushed a strand of her hair that had fallen across her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Her heart skipped so violently she thought the table might shake.
“Don’t do that,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s distracting.”
His lips curved. “Exactly.”
Adah huffed and bent back over her notes.
Half an hour passed. She wrote. He watched. Occasionally, he would make a suggestion—very slowly—forcing her to wait, which only made her glare at him more.
“You’re not even trying to finish this, are you?” she asked, finally.
He tilted his head, mock offended. “I am. You’re just too efficient.”
“Right.”
“You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
She blinked and looked away, ears going warm. “Focus, Devansh.”
“I am focused.”
She bit her lip, stifling a grin. “Not on the project.”
He said nothing. Just kept looking at her like she was the most fascinating page in the entire library.
They worked—or pretended to—for another fifteen minutes before Adah groaned and leaned back in her chair.
“We’ve barely done two pages. At this rate, we’ll still be on this in summer break.”
Devansh smiled. “Good. Then we’ll get more time to meet.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’re slowing us down?”
He didn’t deny it.
The hours passed on and they barely made a dent in the project, eventually, as they packed up, she mumbled, “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly why we should meet again. There’s too much left.”
“I’m not meeting you on a Sunday.”
“It’s not a date, Adah. It’s a project. And we only have two weeks. Exams start right after.”
She hated that his argument made sense. She also hated how much she didn’t hate the idea of seeing him again.
“Fine. A café. Tomorrow afternoon.”
His grin could’ve lit up the library.
She told her parents it was a project meet. Omitted the fact that her partner was a boy with impossibly sharp cheekbones and dangerous eyes. Kiara insisted on coming along, probably sensing her nervousness.
“Don’t want you getting distracted, hmm?” Kiara teased.
Adah rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”
They arrived at the café around noon. It was warm and cozy, nestled near the park, with fairy lights hanging even in broad daylight. Adah wore her favorite white anarkali, the fabric soft and elegant, giving her an effortless charm. Devansh, waiting near the entrance, wore a white polo V-neck that clung to his frame and highlighted every sharp angle of his chest and arms.
She swallowed. Hard.
“Hi,” he said, eyes raking over her softly. “You look... Beautiful”
Kiara popped in with a grin. “Okay, loverboy. Let’s get to work.”
They sat at a corner booth. Ten minutes into the discussion, Devansh casually handed Kiara a note.
“I forgot,” he said smoothly. “You mentioned needing a book from the stationery down the lane? It’s urgent, right?”
Kiara blinked. Then smirked. “Right. Urgent.”
She gave Adah a wink and left.
Leaving them alone.
Devansh turned to Adah, slowly. “Where were we?”
Her pulse thudded.
“We were working. Remember?”
“Still am,” he murmured, gaze locked on her.
She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.
Chapter 5 (Part 2): Devansh's POV
The sunlight slanted through the café’s glass windows, dousing everything in a golden warmth. But even that glow paled next to the girl sitting in front of me—her in white. Of course, she’d wear white. Of all colors, of all days. It wasn’t just a color on her; it was a feeling. Untouched. Clean. Almost sacred.
And I, sitting across her in a white polo V-neck—my choice for the first time ever—felt like a sinner pretending to be holy. But I wanted to match her. I wanted to be worthy of sitting across from her.
Her white anarkali hugged her gently, feminine and soft, and that tiny bindi on her forehead... God, I couldn’t look away. The strands of her hair fluttered whenever the door behind us opened, letting in another breeze—and every single time, my fingers twitched, aching to tuck them behind her ear again. Like I had done once before.
We were supposed to be working. And technically, we were. Books were open between us. My laptop was on. Notes, pens, highlighters... everything we needed was there.
But all I could focus on was her nose scrunching when she concentrated, the way her lower lip jutted out slightly when she wrote, and the quiet way she hummed when reading something she liked.
I had always known I was intense. But this?This was maddening.
She glanced up once, catching me staring. I didn’t even try to pretend I wasn’t. Her eyes widened slightly before she looked back down, her ears turning the softest shade of pink.
My heart. Fuck.
“Devansh, can we please speed this up a bit?” she finally said, frustration leaking into her voice.
I blinked. “Hmm?”
She looked up, visibly annoyed. "We’ve been at this for almost two hours, and we’ve only gotten through the causes. We haven’t even touched the consequences."
I tilted my head, amused. "Well, I’m just being thorough. You don’t want to miss anything in the viva, do you?"
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re doing it on purpose.”
Guilty.
But I gave her my best innocent face. “Doing what?”
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. And just like that, she smiled. Not fully. Not freely. But it was a start.
After another twenty minutes of actual work—because she started ignoring me when I tried teasing her—we decided to order something. She went with a chocolate milkshake. I just asked for a lemonade.
When the drink arrived, she took one sip, then closed her eyes and moaned. “God, this is so good.”
That sound. That fucking sound.
Her lips had barely left the straw when I leaned forward, pretending to inspect her glass. “Really?” I asked casually and took a sip from the exact spot her mouth had been.
She gasped, eyes wide. “Devansh!”
I tried to look confused. “What?”
“That’s mine!”
I shrugged. “It’s just a milkshake, Adah.”
“You drank from where I—”
“Exactly,” I interrupted, letting my voice drop just a little. “I did.”
She didn’t say anything. Just looked away, her cheeks burning.
I didn’t push it. But inside? I was grinning like a damn idiot.
We managed to get through nearly half the project by the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky. She was scribbling something in her notebook when I silently took out my phone and clicked a picture of her.
Not to post. Not to show anyone.
Just for me. To remember her like this—hair falling forward, brows furrowed, hand covered in ink, face soft and focused.
Beautiful.
The bill came. I pulled out my card immediately, but she stopped me. “We’ll split.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I’m not going to let you pay for everything. We both worked on it.”
I stared at her. No girl had ever done that. Hell, most expected I would pay. But she said it with so much finality, so much quiet independence, that I didn’t argue.
I paid half.
And I liked that she made me.
Outside, the air was cooler. She adjusted her dupatta slightly and looked at the road like she was calculating the way home.
“Let’s go to the beach,” I said casually.
She blinked. “What?”
“It’s still early. Let’s go. You like the beach, don’t you?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, quick and firm.
“Why not?” I teased. “Afraid you’ll fall in love with me if we’re near the ocean?”
She glared. “Devansh.”
“I’m kidding.” Not really.
“No beach.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll drop you home, then.”
“No, I’ll take an auto.”
“Adah—”
“I said no.”
I stared at her for a second too long. Then, softly, “I’m not letting you go home alone.”
“It’s not far. I do it all the time.”
I didn’t care.
She saw the way I wasn’t budging and finally gave in with a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But don’t look at me weird when you see where I live.”
I didn’t respond. Just held the door open for her.
The ride was quiet. I could see her trying to shrink into herself, nervous, uncertain.
After a while she slowly closed her eyes and sleep took over her.
I pulled the car to the side and just looked at her. She looked so beautiful and after a while I took out my phone and took a selfie of both of us.
I wanted to remember this moment forever. This was our first date even if we aren't calling it that but this is our unofficial first date and I want to remember each and every bit of it.
As we neared her lane, I slowly woke her up by calling her name and when she woke up with a jolt and I realized what she meant.
It wasn’t a bad neighborhood. Not at all. But it wasn’t like mine. It was modest. Clean but simple. No flashy cars. No guards.
She rushed out before I could open her door.
“Thanks,” she mumbled and almost ran to the building.
I didn’t drive off right away.
I watched her climb the steps, clutching her bag tighter than necessary.
—
The second Adah stepped into her house, the familiar scent of sandalwood incense and homemade dal enveloped her. The faint hum of the ceiling fan, the quiet clinking of utensils from the kitchen—everything was the same.
But she wasn’t.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she slipped out of her white anarkali, carefully hanging it beside her wardrobe. She changed into her soft, worn nightwear, the kind only her bedroom had ever seen. But nothing she wore, nothing she did, could slow the storm thundering inside her chest.
Her heart was pounding.
Her pulse quickened the moment her fingers brushed the necklace she had worn—though not expensive, it had felt special today. Because she wore it when he was with her. Devansh.
Her knees gave way to the mattress, and she sank onto the bed, hugging the nearest pillow to her chest. Her face buried deep in the cotton, muffling the uncontrollable smile that had been stretching her lips ever since she got back from the café.
Smiled like a lunatic while walking back home.
And now? She was grinning into her pillow like she was living some kind of dramatic film scene.
Every detail played in her mind—like a dream she didn’t want to wake from.
The way he had looked at her.
The way he had listened to her.
The way he had sipped from her milkshake—from the same spot. Like it wasn’t even a thing. Like it meant nothing.
But it had meant everything to her.
A thousand butterflies erupted in her stomach again. She kicked her feet into the bed, a helpless laugh escaping her lips.
And then—like someone had splashed cold water on her—she stopped.
Her body stilled.
Her lips fell silent.
Her hands dropped from her face as her heart thudded hard against the guilt settling in her chest.
No.
No,no, no.
This couldn’t happen.
She couldn’t let it happen.
She wasn’t here for romance. She wasn’t here for distractions. She was here on a scholarship—her parents had worked day and night to get her into St. Aurora High. She could not let a boy—no matter how dangerously magnetic—pull her away from her purpose.
“Devansh Rathore,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling, “is not an option.”
Her fingers clenched the bedsheet.
“He’s a distraction. The worst kind.”
She stood up with resolve, brushing her hair back and pulling it into a bun. The more her cheeks flushed at the memory of his smirk, the more she reminded herself why she had to stay away.
No matter how good it felt.
No matter how much her heart tried to betray her.
I didn’t know why—but I felt like I’d been let into something secret. Something important.
And I knew I’d never forget it.
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