The room felt too small tonight. Too silent.
Saurin sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the half-open notebook in his lap. The page was filled with pharmacology notes, but the words blurred every time he tried to focus.
Because all he could see was her.
Aanya.
Sitting there in the library, the way her hair fell loose over her shoulder, the way her voice softened when she explained something to that junior—he couldn't shake it off. Not the scene. Not the feeling.
He had no right to feel this way. And yet, he did.
The kiss haunted him more than he'd admit. It wasn't even about the kiss itself. It was what came after—the silence, the way they'd agreed to move forward without putting a name to it. He thought he could live with that. That maybe they could go back to normal.
But there was nothing normal about tonight.
He saw that senior watching her.
Not for long. Not obviously. But enough for his blood to stir in ways he didn't like. It wasn't even what the guy did—it was the way he looked at her. Like he saw something rare. Something precious.
And what scared Saurin most was that he wasn't wrong.
He closed the notebook and tossed it aside, dragging a hand down his face. His chest felt tight, like there was a storm trapped in his ribs, pounding to get out.
He wanted to message her. Are you home? Did you eat? Are you okay?
But he didn't. He typed and deleted. Twice.
What would he even say? Don't talk to him? Don't smile at anyone else like that? Don't make me lose my mind every time you're kind to another human being?
Ridiculous.
He wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't anything, officially. Just a friend. A friend who had tasted her lips and now couldn't forget the shape of them.
The worst part? She didn't even know what she was doing to him.
She never did.
Aanya wasn't the type to play games. Her kindness was effortless, her warmth uncalculated—and that's what killed him. Because everyone could see it. Everyone wanted it.
And now, someone else had started circling.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding like a ticking bomb. He hated this version of himself—the one who clenched his jaw when she laughed with someone else. The one who couldn't stand the thought of losing something that was never his to begin with.
His phone buzzed.
Aanya.
Aanya: Reached hostel. You?
Saurin: Yeah. Room.
Aanya: You okay?
He stared at the screen for a long second before typing:
Saurin: Yeah. Just tired.
A lie.
But what else could he say?
He dropped the phone on his chest and shut his eyes, forcing the words he wanted to say back down his throat.
Not now. Not yet.
Because whatever this was—it was only getting harder to control.