Rhea's pov
New day. Same classroom. Same chaos.
But something was… off.
Not loud-off. Quiet-off. The kind that sits in your chest and messes with your breathing.
Samar and Neel were fighting—obviously—about who stole whose pen. Yuhan pretended to read while secretly enjoying the drama. Normal. Comforting. Background noise.
Kabir was sitting beside me.
Too close.
Not touching.
Worse.
Close enough that I could feel his presence without looking—his arm resting on the desk, his knee angled just slightly toward mine, the faint smell of detergent and something very Kabir. Calm. Clean. Dangerous.
I focused on my notebook.
Very intensely.
Like it had personally offended me.
"Rhea," he said softly.
Just my name.
Nothing else.
I looked up.
Big mistake.
He was already looking at me. Not teasing. Not sarcastic. Not amused. Just… focused. Like the world had muted itself and I was the only sound left.
"You okay?" he asked.
I nodded too fast. "Yeah. Obviously. Why wouldn't I be?"
He didn't answer. He just kept looking.
That slow, unreadable Kabir look that makes you feel like you're being seen too clearly.
The fan above us creaked. Someone laughed at the back. Life went on.
But right there—
it felt suspended.
My pen slipped from my fingers and rolled off the desk.
I bent down to pick it up.
So did he.
We collided under the desk—my forehead brushing his shoulder, my hand accidentally gripping his wrist.
Time stopped.
I swear it did.
His fingers tightened around mine instinctively. Warm. Steady.
Too real.
I looked up.
We were close. Close-close. The kind they warn you about in movies. His breath hit my cheek. I could count his eyelashes. I could hear him inhale—sharp, controlled, like he was holding something back.
For a second… he didn't let go.
Neither did I.
"Rhea," he whispered again. Slower this time. Like saying it meant something different now.
My heart was loud. Embarrassingly loud. I was sure everyone could hear it.
"Kabir," I replied—same mistake. Same softness.
His thumb moved. Just slightly.
Against my knuckles.
Electric.
Then—
Samar yelled, "OI WHY ARE YOU BOTH DISAPPEARING UNDER THE DESK? FOUND LOVE OR LOST PEN?"
Reality crashed back.
Kabir pulled his hand away immediately, stood up too fast, and cleared his throat like it personally betrayed him.
"Pen," he said flatly.
I straightened, cheeks burning, pretending oxygen was optional. "Yeah. Pen."
He placed it gently on my desk. Not meeting my eyes. Jaw tight. Control back in place.
But before turning away, he leaned in—just enough for only me to hear.
"Stop doing that," he murmured.
"Doing what?" I whispered.
"Making it hard to breathe."
Then he walked away.
I sat there frozen, staring at my notebook like it had answers.
It didn't.
All I knew was—
whatever this was between us…
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't obvious.
But it was intense.
And it was only getting harder to ignore.
Kabir's pov
I noticed it the moment I walked in.
Rhea was quieter.
Not sad. Not upset. Just… thinking. Twirling her pen, staring at nothing, pretending the world wasn't loud around her. Samar and Neel were already mid-war, Yuhan half-listening, half-smiling. Same chaos. Same day.
Except her.
I sat beside her because it felt natural.
Because I always did.
Because if I didn't, I'd spend the entire period distracted anyway.
Too close?
Yeah. I knew that.
Her elbow was inches from mine. Every small movement of hers registered—too clearly. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The tiny frown when she concentrated. I told myself to focus on the lecture.
Didn't work.
"Rhea," I said.
She looked up.
And I forgot what I was going to say.
Her eyes met mine and suddenly it wasn't a classroom. It was just her. The noise faded, like someone turned the volume knob down on the world. She looked… open. Unguarded. Dangerous.
"You okay?" I asked, because it was safer than asking what I really wanted to know.
She nodded too fast. Liar. Cute, obvious liar.
Then her pen fell.
I leaned down at the same time she did.
Stupid.
Under the desk, everything went wrong.
Her hand closed around my wrist by accident—but my fingers wrapped around hers on purpose. Reflex, maybe. Or instinct. Or something I'd been holding back for months.
Warm. Small. Perfect fit.
She looked up at me, eyes wide, breath uneven.
That's when I realized—
I wasn't breathing either.
I could feel her pulse under my thumb. Fast. Matching mine. For one dangerous second, I didn't want to let go. Didn't want to step back. Didn't want to be sensible or careful or Kabir-who-thinks-before-he-feels.
I wanted to stay.
Her name slipped out of me, quieter than I intended. Slower. Like saying it meant something more now.
And the way she said mine back—
That did it.
That tiny softness in her voice hit harder than any punch I'd ever taken.
I moved my thumb—barely. Just enough to tell myself this was real. Just enough to tell her I felt it too.
Then Samar opened his mouth.
Of course he did.
I pulled away instantly. Stood up. Rebuilt the walls in one second flat. If I stayed any longer, I wouldn't stop myself next time.
"Pen," I said, because anything else would've exposed me.
I placed it on her desk carefully. Like she was something fragile. Like I wasn't afraid of hurting her—but of hurting myself.
Before leaving, I leaned in. Not to flirt. Not to tease.
To warn myself.
"Stop doing that," I murmured.
She asked what, confused and soft and still too close to my control.
"Making it hard to breathe."
I walked away before she could reply.
Because the truth was—
I wasn't ready to admit it.
I wasn't ready to name it.
But every time she looked at me like that, every time she said my name like it mattered…
I was already falling.
And the scariest part?
I didn't want to stop.