"But why only me?" Ivan asked, stopping mid-step. "There are forty students in our class. There has to be a reason you chose me."
The school day was over. They were walking along the roadside, backpacks hanging loose on their shoulders. Children ran past them, laughing, rushing home. On the other side of the road, a woman sat near a cart, selling dry fish. The sharp smell filled the air.
For a second, Ivan's mind drifted.
He remembered coming here with his father standing beside him, watching him choose the best fish. Every Sunday, his father cooked fish for them. The memory was brief, warm… and gone.
Ryaan's voice pulled him back to the present.
"Forty students?" Ryaan said calmly, crossing his arms. "They're not my type. Only you are."
Ivan lifted his head, trying to meet Ryaan's eyes. Ryaan was taller not by much, maybe two or three inches but it was enough to make Ivan uncomfortable.
Ivan rose slightly on his toes. His shoes bent at the front, a small, childish movement that didn't escape Ryaan's notice. Ivan wanted to talk face-to-face. Eye-to-eye.
"What's your type, then?" Ivan asked. "And why do I fit into it?"
The air between them felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension.
"You'll know very soon, buddy," Ryaan said.
He leaned forward slightly, one hand tucked into his pocket, confidence wrapped around him like armor. Their faces were only inches apart now.
Ryaan smiled.
It was wide. Too wide. Strange. Creepy.
"Are you making fun of me?" Ivan asked, his voice shaking. "Is this some kind of game to you?"
His palms were sweaty. His heart pounded hard against his chest.
"A game?" Ryaan replied casually. "I'm good with buttons and controllers, not with calculating human behavior."
He shrugged. "I play games. Not people."
"Humans aren't easy to read," Ivan muttered bitterly.
Ryaan waved it off. "Leave all this. Class is over. Let's go to my place."
He placed a hand on Ivan's shoulder.
Ivan immediately stepped aside, brushing it away. "Why are you so obsessed with taking me to your home?"
Ryaan exhaled slowly. "I'm obsessed because I'm dying of boredom. My house is so silent… even the walls don't whisper. Not even traffic sounds reach there."
"Traffic sounds?" Ivan repeated, confused.
That didn't make sense. In Delhi, traffic was everywhere cars, bikes, horns screaming nonstop. There was no place Ivan knew where silence like that existed.
He's lying, Ivan thought.
"Yeah," Ryaan continued. "Cars, bikes, horns. My place is isolated. Only a few people live nearby. It gets boring."
"Are you new there?" Ivan asked.
He didn't want to get close to Ryaan but he wanted answers. Why this boy? Why him?
"Yeah. We're tenants. Not our own house yet."
Ryaan glanced at him. "What about you? Do you have your own house?"
They kept walking down the street.
"It's my father's," Ivan replied softly.
"Then it's yours," Ryaan said. "After him, you'll be the owner."
"I'm not greedy for houses," Ivan said flatly.
Ryaan stepped closer. Too close. "Because you've never seen poverty?"
"Poverty?" Ivan snapped.
He shoved Ryaan away, breaking the distance between them.
"I've seen it," Ivan said.
He walked ahead, his head lowered, eyes fixed on the ground.