The morning after the spring festival, Meera was still fuming.
She sat cross-legged on Priya's bed, tossing popcorn into her mouth as her best friend scrolled through Instagram reels.
"I can't believe him," Meera muttered for the fifth time. "Dragging me off the dance floor like I was his property. In front of everyone!"
Priya chuckled. "He was terrifying. That poor guy looked like he'd seen a ghost."
"It's not funny!" Meera threw a pillow at her. "He keeps getting worse. First my seat in class, then my food, then scaring off literally every guy who talks to me. And now—" she waved her hands dramatically, "—public kidnapping!"
Priya smirked. "Come on, admit it. A tiny part of you liked it."
Meera froze. Heat crept up her neck. "I did not!"
Priya raised a brow. "Really? Then why are you replaying it in your head on a loop?"
Meera groaned, burying her face in the
pillow. "I hate you."
"No," Priya teased, "you're just in denial."
By Monday, Meera had sworn to keep her distance. She avoided the café, took the long route to class, and even ducked into the art building just to throw him off.
But her luck ran out when Rohan waved her over in the library.
"Hey, Joshi! We're meeting to prep for the media ethics project. Want to join?"
Meera hesitated. "Um, sure. But only if it's quick—I have edits to finish."
She followed him to a cubicle where two other classmates were already unpacking notes. Relief flickered in her chest. Finally, a normal study session. No Aarav.
At least, until the door creaked open.
Meera didn't need to look. She already knew.
"Malhotra," she groaned, slamming her notebook shut. "No."
"Yes," Aarav said calmly, stepping inside and taking the empty seat beside her. He opened a thick law book like he'd been invited.
Rohan blinked. "Uh… Malhotra? This is journalism, not law."
Aarav didn't look up. "I'm flexible."
Meera threw her hands up. "You're unbelievable."
"I've heard," he said mildly, jotting something in his notebook.
For the next hour, Aarav completely hijacked the session.
When Meera stumbled over a definition, he supplied it smoothly. When someone asked about case studies, he rattled off examples with surgical precision. Worst of all, whenever Rohan leaned a little too close to check her notes, Aarav's hand appeared on the back of her chair, a silent warning.
Finally, Rohan whispered, "Joshi, is he, like… your bodyguard?"
Before Meera could answer, Aarav said simply, "Something."
Her cheeks burned. She wanted to scream. Instead, she hissed, "Get out. You're ruining everything."
"No," Aarav said calmly, eyes flicking over her notes. "You freeze when people expect answers from you. I make sure you don't."
Meera's chest tightened. For a split second, his tone was so steady, so certain, that she didn't know if she wanted to strangle him or… thank him.
Instead, she snapped, "You're insane."
He finally looked at her, his eyes dark, voice low enough only she could hear. "And you're mine."
By the time the group wrapped up, Meera was ready to explode. She marched out, spinning to face him in the corridor.
"You embarrassed me. Again. You're suffocating me!"
"You needed help," he said simply, walking as if her anger were just background noise.
"I did not! You can't just insert yourself into everything I do."
He stopped then, turning toward her fully. His gaze softened, just slightly. "I can. Because if I don't, no one else will."
Her chest squeezed. The words weren't romantic. They weren't sweet. But they were so raw, so absolute, that they left her speechless.
She turned sharply and stormed off, refusing to let him see her faltering.
That night, as she studied in her dorm, her phone buzzed.
Aarav: Don't stay up past 2. You'll get a migraine.
Her stomach dropped.
Meera: You don't know everything about me.
The reply came instantly.
Aarav: Try me.
She set the phone down, her hands trembling.
And though she told herself she hated him, she couldn't stop wondering if he was right.