Aanya never said she didn't believe in love.
She just believed love had terrible timing.
If someone asked her what she wanted in life, she would say stability. A good job. A peaceful home. Parents who didn't worry about her future. She never said she wanted someone who would look at her like she was the only person in the room.
But sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet and the world felt softer, she wondered what it would feel like to be chosen.
Not liked.
Not admired.
Chosen.
Final year of college was supposed to feel exciting. Everyone around her talked about placements, corporate packages, MBA plans, foreign dreams. The classroom buzzed with ambition.
Aanya listened.
Smiled.
Took notes.
Stayed safe.
Because dreaming too much often meant disappointment.
And she had trained herself not to expect things she wasn't sure she could keep.
That morning was like any other. Economics lecture. Third row. Window seat. The sunlight falling in soft lines across her notebook.
She was halfway through writing a heading when she felt it.
That strange awareness.
Like someone was looking at her.
She didn't react immediately. She told herself it was imagination. It usually was.
But the feeling didn't fade.
Slowly, carefully, she looked up.
Back bench.
Dark blue shirt.
Sleeves folded just below the elbows.
Vihaan.
He wasn't staring obviously. He was talking to someone beside him, nodding casually. But there was something about the way his gaze shifted — like it kept returning to her row without fully committing.
Aanya lowered her eyes instantly.
Her heartbeat felt unnecessarily loud.
She hated that.
"Stop overreacting," she muttered to herself and continued writing.
After class ended, the room exploded into noise. Chairs scraping, bags zipping, people discussing assignments and weekend plans.
Rhea slid into the seat beside her dramatically.
"You know," she said, "if you keep pretending you don't notice him, he might actually stop trying."
Aanya didn't look up. "Notice who?"
Rhea groaned. "You deserve an award for acting."
"I'm not acting."
"Back bench. Blue shirt. Tall. Mysterious. Ring any bells?"
Aanya's fingers paused over her notebook.
"He's not mysterious," she said calmly. "He's just quiet."
"Oh, so you have noticed."
Aanya finally turned to face her. "Everyone notices everyone. It's a classroom, not a blindfold experiment."
Rhea leaned closer. "He looks at you. A lot."
"That doesn't mean anything."
But somewhere deep inside, it did.
Because she had noticed too.
The small things.
The way he arrived five minutes late but never looked rushed.
The way he listened more than he spoke.
The way he didn't laugh loudly like others — just a soft smile, controlled, almost careful.
He wasn't loud.
He wasn't flashy.
He was steady.
And steady was dangerous.
Because steady felt safe.
The classroom slowly emptied. Aanya packed her bag, telling herself to leave immediately like always.
Routine is protection.
But today her movements were slower.
She could feel it again — that quiet awareness.
Then—
"Excuse me."
Her breath caught slightly before she turned.
Vihaan stood a few feet away.
Up close, he seemed different. Not intimidating. Not overly confident. Just… composed.
"Yes?" she asked politely.
"I missed yesterday's lecture," he said. "Can I get your notes?"
Rhea almost choked. "You were here yesterday."
Vihaan glanced at her briefly, then back at Aanya.
"I was present," he corrected. "Just not paying attention."
There was no arrogance in his voice. Just honesty.
Aanya studied his face for a second. He wasn't flirting. He wasn't trying too hard.
He just looked like someone who had thought about this moment before approaching.
"I can send you pictures," she said.
He nodded. "On WhatsApp?"
The question was simple.
But it felt like a step.
She hesitated for half a second — not because she didn't want to give her number, but because she knew this was how things began.
Small.
Harmless.
Innocent.
And then suddenly not innocent at all.
She took his phone.
Typed her number.
Her fingers felt colder than usual.
He didn't hover. Didn't invade her space. Just waited patiently.
"Thank you," he said when she handed it back.
"You're welcome."
There was a pause.
Not awkward.
Just unspoken.
Then he said, "I'll return the favor."
"For notes?" she asked lightly.
"For the trust,"
he replied.
And for a second — just one second — something shifted in her chest.
Because that didn't sound casual.
That sounded intentional.
Before she could respond, he stepped back.
"I'll text you," he said.
And walked away.
No dramatic backward glance.
No unnecessary lingering.
Just calm exit.
Rhea stared at her. "Okay. That was not normal."
"It was normal," Aanya insisted.
But her heartbeat disagreed.
By the time she reached the college gate, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
She knew who it was before opening it.
Hi. Vihaan here. I promise I'll actually read the notes this time.
She smiled despite herself.
Another message appeared.
Also… you pretend very well.
Her breath hitched slightly.
So he had noticed.
She typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted again.
Why was this difficult?
It was just texting.
Finally, she sent:
You don't either.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Her chest tightened in anticipation.
But instead of a long message, he sent:
Good. I don't want to.
Her fingers froze over the screen.
Outside, traffic moved. People walked past her. The world continued normally.
But inside, something had begun.
Something quiet.
Something fragile.
And the most dangerous part?
She knew her life wasn't ready for distractions.
Placements were near.
Responsibilities were real.
Her family depended on her decisions.
Love — or whatever this was — wasn't part of the plan.
But sometimes plans don't ask for permission before changing.
And somewhere between "Can I borrow your notes?" and "I don't want to pretend,"
Timing had started playing its game.
And Aanya had no idea whether she was about to win…
or lose.
End of Chapter 1