The day had already begun pretty charged for both of them, and they didnt want to confront it just yet.
It was quite evident that the ease what they had before this misunderstanding, was wounded, but to be honest Sagnik understood and admitted few things which he wouldnt have ever admitted if it wasnt for the chaos which befell on them.
Sagnik reached the college premises at around 8:50 AM, and Aanya was yet to come.
8:52 AM
8:53 AM
8:57 AM
Time was ticking by and she was no where to be seen. The first period was appointed to a real grumpy professor, who can't tolerate late-comers, he was worried.
Just before the clock hit 9:00 AM, the was slid open, and there she was, panting her lungs out
The professor chuckled. "Must say, you broke your personal record, go take your seat"
The moment Aanya stepped into the classroom, she knew he was there.
She didn't look at him immediately. She didn't need to.
Her chest tightened first—that familiar, unwanted reaction that came before her mind could catch up. The kind that betrayed her every time she tried to pretend things were normal.
She walked in anyway.
Her footsteps slowed as she moved toward her seat, every inch of the room feeling louder than it should have. Chalk scraping the board. Benches shifting. Someone whispering behind her.
And then—she looked.
Sagnik was already watching her.
Not casually. Not accidentally.
His gaze was fixed, raw in a way that made her fingers curl around her notebook. He didn't look angry. He didn't look distant.
He looked… undone.
For a second, she forgot to breathe.
It had been days since they'd last spoken properly, yet the space between them felt crowded—with things unsaid, with questions neither of them had dared to ask.
She broke eye contact first and slid into her seat.
Her pen hovered over the page, unmoving.
She could feel him behind her. The way he shifted. The way he leaned back, then forward again, like sitting still hurt more than moving.
The professor started speaking.
Neither of them listened.
Every word in the room felt secondary to the silence between them—the kind that pressed into the ribs, the kind that demanded resolution.
Aanya swallowed.
If he won't come to me, she thought, her jaw tightening,
then I will end what's hurting him.
Her phone buzzed softly against her thigh.
She didn't need to check it.
Somewhere behind her, Sagnik looked away for the first time that morning—unaware that by the end of the day, the confusion clawing at his chest would finally be answered.
As for others either they were actually interested in studying, or that they are really good at pretending that they are paying attention the the class, but these both... they couldnt focus on whats front of them.
Constantly replaying how charged Aanya's stay was at Sagnik's place.
The class ended, but the feeling didn't.
Students began filing out, laughter spilling into the corridors like nothing had shifted, like nothing was wrong. Aanya stayed seated for a moment longer than necessary, her fingers still wrapped around her pen.
She didn't turn around.
If she did, she knew she'd falter.
Sagnik stood up behind her. She felt it—the scrape of the bench, the sudden absence of his presence. For half a second, she wondered if he would say something.
He didn't.
That settled it.
By the time she stepped into the corridor, the decision had already been made. Not impulsive. Not dramatic. Just… inevitable.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, she checked.
A location pin. A café name she didn't recognize. Far enough from campus to feel intentional.
She exhaled slowly.
If this is what it takes to end the noise, she thought, then so be it.
The ride there was quiet. The city passed her by in fragments—shops opening, people arguing, tea being poured into glass cups. Everything moved forward while she felt suspended in a moment she hadn't asked for.
The café sat at the edge of the road, understated. Not crowded. Not empty either.
Neutral ground.
She pushed the door open.
The smell of coffee hit first. Then voices. Then—him.
He stood up the moment he saw her.
Too fast.
Like he'd been rehearsing this.
"Aanya," he said, relief flickering across his face before he could hide it.
She stopped a few steps away, meeting his eyes without hesitation.
"Hi," she replied.
No smile. No warmth. Just honesty.
She took the seat across from him, folding her hands together—not nervous, just braced.
Somewhere back on campus, Sagnik was probably still pretending not to look for her.
And here she was—about to end the one thing that had made him step away.