Sagnik was leaning against the library wall, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular. His mind replayed Aanya's face again and again—the soft smile, the way she'd explained the notes. The memory was like a spark he couldn't ignore, but the fire it started scared him.
He didn't notice the footsteps at first.
"Seriously, Sagnik… what's wrong with you?" Aditi's voice cut through his fog like lightning.
He jumped slightly, caught off guard. "I'm fine," he muttered, trying to keep his tone casual.
Aditi rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Fine? Really? Because walking around like a storm cloud all morning hardly counts as fine."
Sagnik's jaw tightened. "I said I'm fine."
"Bullshit!" she snapped, stepping closer. "You've been sulking since class. You've barely looked at anyone properly. You're miserable, and everyone can see it!"
He felt his face heat up. "It's… nothing," he tried again, but even he knew the lie sounded hollow.
Aditi's hands flew up in exasperation. "Nothing? Really? That nothing started the moment she talked to that senior, didn't it? Admit it!"
Sagnik froze. She had pinpointed it perfectly. The jealousy—the irrational, burning knot in his chest—tightened.
"I… it's not like that," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Oh, spare me," Aditi said sharply, stepping closer, her gaze piercing. "You noticed her, didn't you? The way she looked at you, the way she explained those notes… and you're acting like a child instead of—what?—saying something? Doing something? You like her, Sagnik! And you're miserable because you're too stubborn to admit it to yourself."
Her words hit him harder than he expected. A sting of anger—at her, at himself—mixed with a deep, helpless longing. He wanted to respond, to say yes, I like her, more than I should, but the words caught in his throat.
"Honestly," Aditi continued, softening slightly but still sharp, "if you don't do something soon, I'll just tell her myself. Because you're driving me insane watching you act like you're above feelings when it's so obvious you're drowning in them."
Before he could say anything, she spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Sagnik leaning against the wall, fists clenched at his sides.
He stared after her, chest tight, mind racing. She had said it all—every truth he was too scared to admit to himself. And now? Now there was no escaping it.
The storm inside him didn't die down—it roared.
And for the first time, he wondered if he'd already let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers.