Saharsh's POV:
Daksh's place was exactly what I expected—neat, books stacked in precise order, not a single pen out of line. Typical Daksh.
I tossed my bag onto the couch, still thinking about the way Sameera had practically run out of my flat, cheeks redder than the paneer she'd cooked. Just the memory had me grinning like an idiot.
But Daksh didn't notice. He was already at the table, spreading out charts and notes like this was the final presentation to the Prime Minister.
"We don't have to solve world hunger with this project, yaar," I said, sliding into the chair beside him. "It's just for credit."
His jaw tightened. "Doesn't matter. If we do something, we do it properly."
I leaned back, watching him. Most people thought Daksh was just… serious. Studious. A machine who only understood books. But after yesterday in the library, after seeing the way his eyes flickered every time Janhvi laughed or moved, I wasn't so sure.
And maybe it was none of my business. But the thing was—Daksh wasn't supposed to feel. Not in the way he did yesterday. And that made me curious.
"Daksh," I began casually, picking up one of his neatly written pages, "you've been… distracted lately."
His pen paused mid-note.
I smirked. "Especially around certain people."
His eyes snapped up to mine, sharp as a warning. "Saharsh."
I ignored the tone, drumming my fingers on the table. "I'm just saying… you don't usually care about what's happening around you. But yesterday in the library—gwhen Janhvi smiled—you looked like you were about to bite your pen in half."
For a second, his jaw ticked, like he was grinding down words he didn't want me to hear.
That's when I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "So tell me honestly… what's going on between you and Janhvi?"
The silence stretched. He looked away, staring so hard at the notes it was obvious he wasn't reading them anymore. His hands were clenched, his shoulders stiff—Daksh, the guy who never slipped, suddenly struggling to hide something.
And in that moment, I knew I'd hit the mark.
But instead of answering, he picked up his pen again, his voice flat. "Focus on the project, Saharsh."
I watched him for another long second, then sat back, letting him bury himself in the work. But the thought wouldn't leave me—Daksh wasn't just hiding something.
He was feeling something.
And it had everything to do with Janhvi.
Daksh's silence was heavy, the kind that said he wanted me to shut up. But I wasn't going to—not this time.
"Come on," I said lightly, leaning back in my chair. "You think I don't notice? You're not half as unreadable as you like to believe."
His pen stilled. He didn't look up, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his knuckles whitened around the page. For a guy who claimed emotions didn't bother him, Daksh was practically leaking them.
Finally, he exhaled sharply, dropping the pen. "It's nothing."
I raised an eyebrow. "Your version of 'nothing' usually looks like a thesis paper. This—" I gestured toward him, "—looks more like someone who's stuck replaying something in his head."
He gave me a flat look, like he wanted me to vanish. But then his eyes flickered—just for a second—and I caught it. That slip.
"Fine," he muttered, leaning back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Freshers' party. That night."
I blinked. "What about it?"
His jaw tightened. "Me and Janhvi… we—" He stopped, searching for words, his voice dropping as if saying it louder would make it real. "It just… happened. Spur of the moment. Drinks, music, too much noise… I don't know. We agreed to forget it the next day. And we did. Or at least, I thought we did."
I stared at him, surprised. Daksh, of all people. Mister self-control, Mister library at 8 a.m. sharp. Hooking up at freshers?
"And now?" I asked carefully.
He shook his head, a frustrated sound escaping his throat. "Now she's… going out with people. Talking about dates like it's nothing. Like it doesn't matter." His eyes hardened, but there was something raw underneath. "And I don't know why it's bothering me. It shouldn't. We said we'd forget it."
I didn't say anything for a second, just watched him. For Daksh, even admitting this much was huge.
"So, let me get this straight," I finally said, smirking despite myself. "You kissed and made a pact to forget it. But now that she's out there living her life, suddenly Mr. Stone-Cold feels something?"
"Don't," he warned, voice low.
But his silence after said it all. He wasn't just bothered. He was caught—maybe more than he wanted to admit.
And for the first time, I realized that behind Daksh's perfect composure and endless notes, there was a mess he couldn't file away neatly. A mess named Janhvi.
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "You know, Daksh… for someone who insists emotions are a distraction, you're sounding a lot like the hero of a sappy rom-com."
His glare could've killed. "I'm serious, Saharsh."
"Exactly my point," I shot back, chuckling. "You're serious about her. And that's the problem, isn't it? Because if it was just a 'spur of the moment'—" I made air quotes, "—you wouldn't be sitting here looking like someone stole your notes."
His jaw ticked, but he didn't deny it.
I leaned back, stretching. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Your reputation as the heartless topper is safe." Then I winked. "But between us? You might want to start accepting that Janhvi isn't just another project you can shelve and forget."
He groaned, muttering something under his breath, and shoved a stack of notes toward me. "Shut up and start working."
I laughed, flipping open the pages, but in the back of my mind, one thought stayed: Daksh wasn't fooling anyone anymore.
Not me.
And definitely not himself.
Daksh's POV:
The moment Saharsh left, the apartment felt too quiet. My notes lay open on the table, but my eyes didn't see them. They saw her.
That night.
The fresher's party had been chaos—music too loud, lights too bright, people grinding on the dancefloor like they'd been waiting their whole lives for this one night. I wasn't supposed to be there. Parties weren't my thing. But someone had dragged me along, and that's when I saw her.
Janhvi.
That short, bodycon dress hugging her like it was made for her alone. The shimmer of the lights sliding across her skin as she danced, carefree, laughing with her friends. I tried looking away, tried focusing on anything else—but every beat of the music pulled my eyes back to her. She was a distraction I couldn't shut out, no matter how hard I tried.
At some point, she slipped away from the dancefloor. I don't even remember deciding to follow her—it just… happened. My feet moved before my mind caught up. She pushed open the door to the college gym, maybe looking for something quieter, maybe just exploring.
When she turned and saw me there, leaning against the doorway, she didn't look surprised. She smirked. "What, topper? You gonna give me detention for skipping the party?"
Her voice was teasing, playful. But there was something else in her eyes. Something sharper.
I should've walked away. I knew I should've. But instead, I stepped in, closing the distance. "I was just… making sure you weren't lost."
She laughed softly, the sound echoing in the empty gym. "You sure about that? Because you've been staring at me all night."
My throat went dry. "You noticed?"
"How could I not?" she whispered, tilting her head, stepping closer until I could smell the faint trace of her perfume, something floral, heady.
The silence between us stretched, charged, and before I knew it, her hand brushed against my arm, her eyes locking with mine in a way that made my pulse stumble.
One second, we were just standing there. The next, her lips were on mine. Hot. Hungry. Daring.
I lost it.
I grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against me, kissing her back with all the restraint I'd been holding in. She gasped softly into my mouth, fingers clutching at my shirt, tugging me closer. My hands slid up her sides, feeling the heat of her body through that thin fabric, and she arched into me like she'd been waiting for it too.
The gym, the party, the whole damn world disappeared. There was just her, pressed against the cool wall, my lips tracing down to her neck as she tilted her head back, a soft sound escaping her that nearly undid me.
Her nails grazed my skin, my jaw, my hair, tugging me deeper into the madness. Every inch of me burned for her, every nerve screaming that this was wrong and right all at once.
We didn't stop until reality clawed its way back in—both of us breathless, hearts racing, staring at each other with the same wide-eyed disbelief.
And that's when she said it. "This… doesn't mean anything right? Just… spur of the moment."
I'd nodded then, too shaken to argue. But the truth? From that night on, I could never look at her the same way again.
The memory of that night clung to me like sweat—her lips, her laugh, the way her body curved against mine in the shadows of the gym. We'd promised to forget it, to leave it as nothing but a reckless mistake. But how the hell was I supposed to forget something that had burned itself into my skin?
I ran a hand down my face, forcing myself back into the present. My room was too neat, my books too perfectly aligned—but inside, I was a mess. Because every time I thought about her, the memory shifted.
It wasn't just the gym anymore.
It was him.
The random guy I'd seen with her a week later. I hadn't planned on noticing—it was just bad luck, coincidence. I'd gone out to grab coffee, and there she was, at a café, laughing across the table at some idiot who thought leaning too close was the way to impress her. His hand brushed hers, lingered a little too long, and something inside me snapped tight.
I'd stood there for too long, watching through the glass, trying to convince myself it didn't matter. That she had every right to see whoever she wanted. That what happened between us was nothing.
But the lie burned.
Because the moment that guy's fingers grazed her arm, I wanted to walk in, grab him by the collar, and tell him to keep his hands off her.
I'd clenched my fists in my pockets instead, jaw locked, before turning away. Pretending I hadn't seen. Pretending it didn't matter.
But it did. God, it did.
And now every time she laughs, every time she disappears on one of her so-called "plans," I feel that same twist in my chest. Like I'm losing something I was never supposed to have in the first place.
I exhaled sharply, shoving my chair back from the desk. The charts and notes lay forgotten. Because no matter how much I tried to bury it, I couldn't escape one truth—
I wanted her.
And watching her slip away into someone else's orbit was slowly driving me insane.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling like it had the answers I couldn't find. My chest felt too tight, my head too loud.
Finally, I reached for my phone. The screen lit up, Janhvi's name just a swipe away.
My thumb hovered over it, the urge sharp—just text her, ask her to meet, stop torturing yourself.
But my hand froze. Because the second I typed something, I couldn't take it back. It would mean admitting what I'd been trying to deny since that night in the gym.
I locked the screen, tossed the phone aside. Picked it up again seconds later.
Stared.
Hesitated.
And for the first time in a long time, Daksh—the guy who always knew what he wanted, who never let feelings blur his focus—was caught in a loop he couldn't solve.
The phone stayed heavy in my hand, her name glowing like a dare.
And I couldn't bring myself to look away.