The very next day, Vansh stepped into the classroom and paused. There she was—Aanya—seated in his spot, buried in her books as if she'd been there waiting all along. She didn't look up, but the small smile on her face told him she knew exactly where he was standing. She didn't greet him, didn't speak, just smiled like someone silently challenging him to make the first move.
He remembered his words from before—I don't like friends. Regret nipped at his chest the moment he saw her again. That one sentence had been such a stupid thing to say, especially to someone who still smiled at him the next day as if it didn't matter. But he didn't let the silence grow roots this time. "Good morning," he said, and to that, her smile brightened like the first light after a storm.
She scooted to the side without saying a word, making space for him. He sat, silently noting how everything in his routine had begun shifting because of her. He used to wipe down the bench every day, make sure it was spotless before he even opened his books—but now? He didn't even reach for the cloth. He opened his bag, ready to begin… and found it nearly empty.
His books—every single one—were missing. A quick glance to his side confirmed what he already suspected. Aanya had them. She was casually flipping through pages, pretending to be engrossed in note-taking. "My books," he said, trying to stay calm.
"Still working on my notes," she replied, not even looking up.
"Give them back."
"Not done yet."
"You could've asked."
"You could've talked properly before," she snapped, still focused on the notebook.
That one stung. He blinked. What does that have to do with my books? But before he could respond, two familiar figures approached from the side—Srujan with a grin that spelled chaos, and Dhanush looking like he'd been dragged along for the ride.
As Srujan and Dhanush approached the bench, what they walked into was nothing short of a chaotic tug-of-war—Vansh and Aanya practically wrestling over a single book that, ironically, didn't even belong to her in the first place.
Aanya had her hands firmly on it like it was the last dessert in the cafeteria, while Vansh was tugging back with the calm desperation of someone just trying to survive finals. Srujan swung in dramatically, arms spread like he was arriving on stage. "What is going on here? Vansh told us to keep silent and he's the one having all the fun?" he said, grinning like a trouble magnet.
The moment those words left his mouth, Aanya's eyes twitched—dangerously. Still gripping the book with one hand, she reached back with the other, clearly calculating the angle needed to smack Srujan clean across the head.
But the ongoing war with Vansh had her too occupied to fully commit to violence. Lucky for Srujan—this time. The rest of the class was too busy chatting to notice the showdown, but a few glanced their way. Most didn't care, not anymore. After all, Vansh had earned enough of a neutral reputation. But not everyone was so forgiving—there were still eyes watching, still grudges held, silent but simmering.
Srujan was the trying to break the tension. "Aanya, if he's asking, maybe give him the books? He can return them later, right?" The second Aanya looked up with narrowed eyes, his confidence deflated like a balloon under a truck.
Dhanush stepped in to salvage the moment, he tried to stabilize the moment by taking aanya's side. "As I am the class rep," he said quickly. "It's my duty to make sure everyone's notes are complete. It's just—school responsibility."
Even that earned him a glare. Now both boys were awkwardly shifting, puzzled why she seemed furious at them too.
Vansh, visibly done with the discussion, reached out and gently tugged a strand of her hair. "Enough now. Give them back."
Without warning, she grabbed him by the collar. He let go of her hair immediately, realizing she was not to be messed with. "Okay, okay, truce," he muttered.
"Good," she said coolly, fixing his collar with a victor's smirk.
Turning to the two witnesses, Vansh frowned. "Why are you both even here? I told you—"
Srujan cut in before he could finish. "I don't care what you said. I'm not going to care what anyone thinks. I'm here because I want to be."
Vansh's eyes narrowed. "You better not get involved."
But then Dhanush, the quiet one, added softly, "I don't care either. Vansh, there are only two weeks left. Two weeks of school life before we split. We barely got time these past few months. Let's just enjoy what we have. We're kids. Let's act like it. And for the record... you're my favourite idiot."
From her seat, Aanya smiled with her chin resting in her hand, watching them like she was enjoying some front-row entertainment. Vansh glanced between the three of them, unsure how to react, but didn't stop them from dragging their chairs closer.
The four of them now sat in a group, textbooks open. Whispers flew across the room as the rest of the class took notice. Vansh—the loner—now flanked by two boys and the class rep herself? Something was definitely brewing, and everyone wanted a front seat.
Aanya continued to poke Vansh with doubts she already knew the answers to. "How do you solve this?" she asked.
"You just solved this five minutes ago," Vansh replied, exasperated.
"Yeah, but I forgot."
"You're trying to waste time."
"You're just mad because you suck at languages."
"Oh, and you suck at math."
From the side, Srujan grinned. "Aww, the tension! So romantic. Vansh, that earlier speech really touched my heart."
"Shut it."
"No, seriously. You held my hand and everything. What a confession."
Dhanush grabbed Srujan's hand and twisted it playfully. "This hand, right? You want to relive that moment?"
Srujan yelped. "I'm sorry! My feelings have changed! I'm in love with oxygen now!"
Aanya chuckled under her breath, and Vansh found himself watching them—really watching them. This chaotic energy, this ridiculous fun... he hadn't felt it in a long time. It was unfamiliar. Strange. But also, somehow comforting.
"Thank you," he said softly.
The others heard it. They didn't say anything—just smiled.
Soon, the period ended, and students trickled out for break. Dhanush and Srujan got up too.
"You guys coming?"
"I'll stay back. Got one last math problem," Vansh said, eyes already on his notebook.
"Liar," Srujan grinned, but they left anyway, laughing among themselves.
Now, only Aanya and Vansh remained.
Silence settled around them. Vansh's pencil slowed… and then stopped. His head dipped lower and lower. And before he realized it, sleep took over.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was still. The classroom was empty. No chatter. No footsteps. Just warmth. But not the kind that came from sunlight.
He blinked.
His head was resting—not on the desk—but on her shoulder.
Aanya didn't say a word. She just sat there, letting him rest, her expression peaceful. A smile played on her lips—not teasing, not smug. Just soft. She was happy, and she didn't need words to show it.
Vansh jolted upright like someone had poured cold water on him. "Why didn't you wake me?!"
She just smiled. "And ruin that masterpiece nap?"
He frowned. "You could've said something."
"I did," she said, glancing at him. "Just not out loud."
That wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was all she was giving him.
Right on cue, Dhanush and Srujan returned. "Yo, what happened?"
"Nothing," Vansh muttered a bit too fast.
Aanya leaned forward with a smirk. "Nothing?"
Vansh looked away, ears red. He sat back down, burying his face in the notebook like it was a shield.
"So…" she teased. "Was it a good nap?"
He didn't reply, but that red on his face said everything.
From the corridor window, their teacher paused, watching the scene unfold. These kids. Their little moments. Their quiet laughter. The things she never got to feel at their age. Her eyes softened, a wistful ache blooming in her chest. She had missed this kind of youth—but seeing it now, she could only smile for them.
And silently, she was happy—especially for Vansh.
As the teacher leaving for her daily routine, some students passing from the class saw these four together having fun talks. In the corridor, a few students clicked their tongues in annoyance, side-eyes darting toward the corner where the chaotic quartet had gathered. Whispers started to slither between benches like a bad draft. "Why is Aanya still hanging around him?" someone muttered under their breath, not exactly hiding the bitterness. "After everything we said about Vansh… she must be crazy." Another snorted. "Or maybe she just likes drama."
The judgments floated around casually, not loud enough to be confrontational but sharp enough to cut if overheard. But none of them really cared about Aanya herself—just the idea of her, just the confusion of seeing her with him. The fact that she hadn't budged even after all the badmouthing, all the distance the class tried to place between Vansh and the rest—it unsettled some of them. It wasn't about kindness or empathy. It was about discomfort. Because Aanya, the one person they assumed would pick a side, never did.
And that silence from her? That unbothered expression as she sat there fighting over a book and laughing with the boy they once cornered with rumours—some couldn't stand it.