Vedant's POV
The library was dimmer than usual. Late afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the study tables. I had claimed my usual spot—corner table, second row, near the window. Predictable. Efficient.
She arrived ten minutes later.
No rustle of papers. No dramatic entrance. Just the soft sound of her footsteps and the quiet scrape of a chair being pulled out across from me.
Arohi.
She didn't ask if the seat was taken.
She didn't need to.
I glanced up, expecting the usual nod or silence.
Instead, she met my eyes.
"Hi," she said.
Just that.
Soft. Unassuming.
But it landed like a dropped pin in a silent room.
I blinked. "Hi."
She opened her notebook, flipped to a blank page, and began writing something I couldn't see. Her hair fell slightly over her face, and for a moment, I thought she looked… relaxed.
I tried to focus on my notes.
Failed.
After a few minutes, she leaned forward slightly. "Vedant, can I ask you something?"
I nodded, wary. "Sure."
She turned her notebook toward me. "This derivation. I know it's correct, but I don't like how it's explained. Can you walk me through it?"
I frowned. "You don't like how it's explained?"
She smiled.
And I froze.
It wasn't a smirk.
Not the polite curve she gave professors.
It was real. Unfiltered. Slightly amused.
"I like clarity," she said. "And you're annoyingly good at it."
I stared at her for a beat too long.
Then looked down at the notebook.
"Okay," I said, voice lower than usual. "Let's go through it."
As I spoke, she watched me—not the page, not her notes. Me.
It made my skin itch.
Not in a bad way.
Just… unfamiliar.
When I finished, she nodded slowly. "You explain like you're trying not to lose someone."
I blinked. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "It's a compliment. Sort of."
Then she smiled again.
Second time.
Same day.
I looked away, pretending to check my phone.
My heart was beating faster than it should.
She packed up her things, slower than usual. No rush. No tension.
As she stood, she paused. "Thanks, Vedant."
I nodded, still not meeting her eyes.
She hesitated. "You're not used to me being nice, are you?"
I looked up. "No. I'm not."
She smiled one last time. "Good. Keeps things interesting."
And then she walked away.
I sat there, notebook open, pen in hand, completely incapable of writing another word.
She smiled.
Twice.
And I wasn't ready.