It started with a missed lab slot.
Krisha had been so caught up helping Anish with a design bug that she forgot about her scheduled 4 PM group research review in the Law-Tech Interdisciplinary Lab — a collaborative space barely used, except when engineering students needed access to legal AIs.
She ran across campus, laptop clutched to her chest, heart pounding. The sun was already dipping, casting a soft golden hue on the glass walls of the lab building.
When she reached the door — surprise, surprise — it was already closed.
But not locked.
She pushed it open.
Only one other person was inside.
Abhishek.
He looked up from the sleek glass desk, startled. "You're late."
Krisha groaned. "Don't start."
"Wasn't planning to."
She threw her bag down, annoyed. "Why are you even here?"
"I was assigned to the same review."
"Weird. No one told me."
He stood. "Because you were late. Again."
She turned to face him. "You don't have to be such a jerk about it."
"I'm not being a jerk."
"Oh really? That's you being nice?"
Before he could fire back, the door clicked behind them.
Krisha blinked.
Abhishek turned slowly.
The soft red light above the door flashed: LOCKED.
"Wait," Krisha said. "Was that an auto-lock?"
Abhishek tried the handle. Then again. Then slammed it.
"I told them last time — the tech team fixed the schedule wrong. It automatically locks at 5 PM if no one swipes in or out."
Krisha checked her phone. 5:02 PM.
"No. No no no. Tell me you're joking."
Abhishek gave her a tight smile. "Congratulations. We're locked in."
They tried everything.
No security response.
No access card.
No signal inside the lab.
And the only emergency contact was... the maintenance guy who worked night shifts and would arrive in two hours.
"I hate everything," Krisha muttered, slumping onto one of the plush chairs. "Especially auto-locking doors and law students."
Abhishek raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He sat across from her.
Minutes passed.
Then: "So," he said, "are we just going to ignore what happened during truth or dare?"
Krisha flinched.
"I think we should," she said quickly. "I mean... you said it under pressure."
"I didn't," he replied softly. "I meant it."
She looked away. "You don't mean it like that."
"I do."
Silence.
Krisha stood up, pacing. "You can't just drop things like that, Abhishek. And then disappear. You didn't text me after the mall—"
"I did," he cut in. "You didn't reply."
"I didn't know how to reply!" she snapped. "You're... you. And I'm... not supposed to feel this way."
He stood too. "Why not?"
"Because you're annoying and smart and judgmental and... you see me, okay? And it scares me."
That last part — she hadn't meant to say out loud.
He took a step closer. "I scare you?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Because I might actually like you back."
Now it was his turn to freeze.
Neither of them breathed.
The hum of the ventilation system was the only sound in the sleek, empty lab.
"I've liked you since first semester," Abhishek said quietly. "But you were always with Anish. Or pretending I didn't exist."
Krisha stepped forward. "Anish is my friend."
"You don't look at him like you look at me."
Krisha opened her mouth to protest — but couldn't. Because it was true.
She didn't look at Anish like this.
She didn't feel like this with anyone else.
Another step.
Now they were so close the tension could be cut with a knife.
And then — a loud beep echoed through the room.
The door unlocked.
The red light turned green.
They both jumped.
Krisha immediately stepped back. Reality returned.
Abhishek scratched the back of his neck. "We should... go."
"Yeah," Krisha said, still breathless. "Definitely."
They didn't talk much on the walk back.
But the air was different now.
Charged. Fragile. Waiting.
And later that night, in the quiet of Dorm 7C, Krisha sat on her bed, staring at her phone.
No texts from him.
But none were needed.
Because now they both knew.
And knowing... changed everything.