The pattern continued.
Days folded into each other quietly, without announcement.
Lecture. Notes. Questions. The soft closing of notebooks. The slow thinning of the classroom until only a few remained.
And always—Dev stayed back.
At first, it was still framed in academics.
A doubt here. A clarification there.
Kabir would explain, Dev would listen, and the world would briefly shrink to a board, a marker, and the distance between them.
But slowly, the questions began to change.
Not in subject.
In shape.
One afternoon, the class had ended earlier than usual. Most students had already left, the hallway echoing faintly with fading footsteps.
Kabir was packing his bag when Dev approached the desk.
"Sir," he said.
Kabir looked up.
"Yes?"
Dev hesitated—but only slightly.
"Do you ever feel like… some topics make sense in theory, but not in practice?"
A familiar kind of question.
And yet, something about the way it was asked felt less like physics and more like something else trying to hide inside physics.
Kabir paused before answering.
"Yes," he said simply.
Dev looked a little relieved by that.
Kabir noticed.
"That happens often," Kabir continued. "Understanding and experience don't always arrive together."
Dev nodded slowly, absorbing that.
Then, after a beat—
"I think I understand things better here," Dev said.
Kabir's movements slowed for a fraction of a second.
"Here?" he asked, as if confirming.
Dev nodded.
"In class. After class. It's… easier to think."
There was no grand meaning in his tone.
No intention behind it that demanded attention.
But Kabir still felt it settle somewhere he couldn't ignore.
"I'm glad," Kabir said after a moment.
And he meant it.
He realized that more clearly than he expected.
A silence followed—not uncomfortable, but present.
Dev shifted his bag strap.
Then, almost casually, he added, "Sometimes I feel like I overthink things."
Kabir glanced at him.
"That's not unusual," he said.
Dev gave a small, almost self-aware smile.
"It is for me."
Kabir didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he leaned slightly against the desk, studying the board as if the answer might be written there.
"What do you overthink?" he asked finally.
The question was light.
Professional.
But it carried something unplanned beneath it.
Dev looked down at his notebook.
Not opening it. Not writing. Just holding it.
"Small things," he said.
A pause.
Then, softer—
"Like when I say something… and whether I said it correctly."
Kabir nodded slowly.
"That usually fades with time."
Dev didn't seem fully convinced.
So Kabir added, more gently, "Most people are too focused on themselves to remember small details about others."
That earned a quiet exhale from Dev—almost a laugh, but not quite.
"I guess that helps," Dev said.
It did.
But Kabir noticed something else too.
Dev wasn't just asking about mistakes.
He was asking about being seen.
The realization came and went quickly.
Kabir didn't hold onto it.
He couldn't afford to.
Not in the way he was beginning to notice things.
Not in the way Dev sometimes looked at him when he thought Kabir wasn't paying attention.
The room felt warmer than before.
Or maybe it was just the time of day.
Kabir closed his notebook.
"You should go," he said gently. "It's getting late."
Dev nodded.
But he didn't leave immediately.
Instead, he stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
Then—
"Sir," he said again.
Kabir looked up.
Dev hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Then shook his head slightly.
"Nothing. I'll go."
And this time, he did.
Kabir watched him leave.
Long after the door closed, Kabir remained still at the desk.
Not thinking of the lecture.
Not thinking of the syllabus.
Just of the way some conversations didn't feel like questions anymore.
And how he was starting to wait for them anyway.