The next day at school, his behavior was… unusual. When it was time for Art, we headed downstairs. He was passionately going on about the benefits of being vegan, and as the good listener I pretend to be, I let him ramble.
But then, out of nowhere—her.
That girl — the one who'd called him hot the other day — was staring at us like she could burn holes through our souls. My body shivered.
I'd noticed this before, too. On the staircase, when he teased me, she glared at me like she was sending silent death threats.
Wait… does she have a crush on him? Then why is she staring at me?
Does she think we're dating? Hell no.
Later, I cornered Di.
"Di, tell me one thing — who's that girl? The one you talk to in class 8… a little chubby?"
"Oh, that's Nayan."
"Does she have anything to do with Akaay?"
"She actually liked him for years. At first, she hated me, thinking I was approaching him."
"But you did," I whispered, soft enough that only she could hear.
Di smirked. "Fair enough. But when she found out I'm with Aksh, she became my best friend. Now she even asks me for tricks on how to pursue him."
"Oh… that's nice, I guess."
"Why are you asking, though?"
"Uh… It's nothing. Just curiosity."
As usual, we went to the lab for project completion. This time, Ada was there for the bunk.
I was working with Vayu on the project when suddenly, Akaay walked in.
"Kriti, I have to tell you something," he said, hesitating.
We all sat around a round table, like some secret conference. Akaay sat in front of me, the others smirking on the sidelines, enjoying the scene. The lights were dimmed, and honestly, I had no idea what was about to happen.
He started slowly. "There is some gossip about you and me airing in the school."
I knew it.
"Do you like me?" he asked.
"Is that so?" I mimicked his tone, and we all burst out laughing.
"Ahh… the thing is, that girl from class 8 messaged me. She asked, 'What is Kriti to you? A friend or a sister?"
"What did you say?" I asked.
"I said she's my friend. Why would she be my sister?"
"And then?"
"Then she told me I should stay away from you, that you could do black magic on me. That you secretly like me. I mean—" he threw up his hands, "—I am so done with this girl. She's not letting me live."
"By the way she stares at me, I guess she won't let me live either," I said, and we all burst into laughter again.
"So what's the solution?" I asked.
"Nothing. I don't know how to stop her, seriously."
"I guess she's gonna hurt so much then."
That day, when I got home, I couldn't put the thought down. So I wrote a poem.
{A bond was born so warm and true,
Two souls together, a quiet view.
Laughter shared, hearts at ease,
Unaware of the storm beneath the breeze.
She watched them from the shadows near,
Her heart, a mix of love and fear.
Jealousy grew as sharp as a knife,
As doubts began to twist her life.
"Is she your friend or something more?
She will steal your heart, I am sure."
Words of warning, bitter and cold,
Turning friendship into something sold.
Now every moment felt unsure,
A quiet war no one could cure.
Hearts divided, trust replaced,
By the gaze that watched, the fear that chased.}
While writing this, I didn't realize one thing:
This girl wasn't making distance between us.
She was pulling us closer — closer than we ever could've been without her.