At first, Meera thought he was bluffing.
People threatened all the time. Professors threatened marks. Priya threatened to steal her notes if she skipped class again. Karan threatened heartbreak whenever he got a fresh haircut. But Aarav Malhotra? Surely he had more important things to do than make good on a ridiculous warning in the middle of a corridor.
She told herself that all through breakfast, while Priya yammered about assignments. She told herself again in the café line, tapping her foot to the sound of the espresso machine. She told herself so often she almost believed it.
Until she spotted him.
He was already there.
At her table.
Her usual spot near the window, where she liked the light, where she always sat with Priya or sometimes alone with her camera. Aarav was there, posture impeccable, fingers loosely wrapped around a cup of black coffee as if he had been carved into the scene.
Meera slowed, nearly stumbling. Priya bumped into her from behind.
"What?" Priya hissed. "Why are you— oh." Her eyes went wide. "Wait. Is that… Malhotra?"
Meera forced herself to walk forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hesitation. She slammed her tray onto the table. "That's my seat."
Aarav glanced up, eyes calm, voice steady. "Not anymore."
Meera's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"You should sit here," he said, as though explaining something simple to a child. "It's safe. The corner tables make you vulnerable."
Priya's eyes darted between them, caught between horror and fascination. "Uh… I think I'll get more napkins." And then she was gone, leaving Meera stranded.
Meera leaned forward, glaring. "Do you realize how insane you sound? You can't just—"
"I told you," Aarav interrupted softly. "Every step you take, I'll be there."
His tone wasn't mocking. It was matter-of-fact. That terrified her more than a shout would have.
By afternoon, she convinced herself it was a one-time stunt. Maybe he'd get bored. Maybe he'd find a new obsession. Surely he had a hundred law essays to write instead of stalking journalism students.
She entered lecture hall 2B, scanning for her usual row. And froze.
He was there again.
Same seat, right beside hers, law book open in front of him.
Meera's pulse spiked. Students whispered as they slipped into their rows. The sight of Aarav Malhotra sitting next to Meera Joshi was strange enough to attract attention.
She dumped her books with a thud. "You're not in this class."
"I am now," he said simply, turning a page.
Meera ground her teeth. "You don't even take journalism."
"I take you," he murmured, so low only she heard it.
Her stomach twisted. Heat rose to her cheeks, equal parts fury and confusion.
Later, it got worse.
Lunch hour. Meera sat outside under the banyan tree, half-listening to Priya chatter while Karan from media studies slid onto the bench beside her.
"Hey, Joshi," Karan said with a grin. "Movie this weekend?"
Meera opened her mouth, unsure whether to say yes, no, or invent an excuse. But she didn't get the chance.
A shadow fell across the table. Aarav.
"She's not interested," he said, tone polite, but final.
Karan blinked. "Uh, I didn't ask you."
"You should leave."
Something in Aarav's voice — not anger, not threat, just unshakable certainty — made Karan falter. He gave a nervous laugh, muttered something about assignments, and hurried away.
Meera shot up, furious. "What the hell was that?!"
Aarav's expression didn't flicker. "Protection."
"I don't need protection!" she snapped. "From what? Friendly conversation?"
His eyes locked on hers. Dark. Calm. Unyielding. "From everything that isn't me."
Meera's breath caught.
For the first time, she realized he wasn't bluffing.
And maybe, just maybe, the joke she thought she was playing on Aarav Malhotra… had turned into something else entirely.
Something she couldn't laugh off.