The change wasn't drastic—just subtle enough to be felt.
Kartikey was still around, still the same in many ways. But something was... off.
He didn't hover like before. He didn't tease her unnecessarily.
And Anshika noticed.
More than she wanted to.
Like now, as they all sat in the canteen, the usual group, laughing and talking. Priya sat between them, Kartikey on her other side, his focus was on something Priya was saying, occasionally adding a remark, his dimple flashing when he smirked.
He used to always find some way to annoy her, pull her into the conversation, even if it was just to make her roll her eyes. But today? Nothing.
She should have been relieved.
Then why was she stealing glances at him between bites of her sandwich?
Why did it bother her that he hadn't looked at her properly all day?
"Anshika, tum sunn rahi ho?" Arjun waved a hand in front of her face.
"Anshika, are you listening?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
Priya smirked. "Kya dekh rahi thi?"
"What are you looking at?"
"Kuch nahi!" she replied a little too quickly, grabbing her coffee to avoid further questioning.
"Nothing!"
"Yeh dekh, kitna funny meme hai!" Priya shoved her phone in front of her face, but Anshika barely glanced at it.
"Look at this, it's such a funny meme!"
Because Kartikey was laughing at something someone else said, dimples on full display.
And it bothered her.
She shook her head, looking down at her half-eaten sandwich. Mujhe kya farak padta hai? It wasn't like she wanted his attention.
"Anshika, tu sunn rahi hai?" Priya nudged her.
"Anshika, are you listening?"
"Haan... kya?" she said, a little too late.
"Yes... what?"
Priya gave her a knowing look but didn't say anything.
Just then, someone passing by, dropped a drink from their tray, and it spilled across the table, rushing toward Anshika's side. Before she could react, a firm hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her away.
"Dhyaan kahan hota hai tumhara?" Kartikey muttered, his voice low, his hand steady against her wrist for a fraction too long before he let go.
"Where are you lost?"
Anshika blinked at him, heart unexpectedly racing.
It was the first time in days he had directly spoken to her.
But before she could even form a response, he had already gone back to his seat and the conversation.
The distance was still there. But in that brief moment, she had felt the Kartikey she was used to—the one who, no matter how much space he gave her, would always be the first to look out for her.
And for some reason, that realization left her even more restless.
Kartikey's phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen before standing up. "Mujhe kuch kaam hai. Main chalta hoon."
"I have some work, I'm leaving."
He didn't even look at her when he said it.
Something tugged at her chest.
Why did it feel like something was slipping away—even when she had been the one to push him away?
The campus gates were quieter in the evening, most students already gone for the day. Anshika adjusted the strap of her bag and walked toward the exit, lost in her own thoughts.
"Main drop kardu?"
"Come, I'll drop you?"
Anshika stiffened. A guy she did not recognize—probably from another department, was smirking at her, his stance too casual, his eyes lingering a little too long.
She opened her mouth, unsure whether to ignore him or respond, when suddenly—
A shadow stepped in front of her.
Kartikey.
Tall, broad-shouldered, his hands shoved into his pockets, but his posture tense. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes—dark, unwavering—were fixed on the guy.
He didn't speak. Didn't need to.
The other guy chuckled nervously, glancing between them. "Chill, bhai. Bas baat kar raha tha."
"Chill, man. I was just talking."
Kartikey tilted his head slightly, his jaw ticking. "Kar li? Ab nikal."
"You done talking? Now leave."
Something in his tone—calm yet laced with quiet authority—made the guy mutter a curse under his breath before turning and walking away.
Anshika let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Kartikey turned to her, eyes scanning her face as if checking if she was okay.
He finally looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time in days.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Thik ho?" His voice was softer now.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Haan... thanks."
And then, as if snapping back to whatever distance he had been keeping, he nodded once and turned away. "Chalo, chhod deta hoon."
"Come, I'll drop you home."
She wanted to say something, anything—to break this strange tension between them, but the words wouldn't come.
So, she simply followed.
That night, no matter how much Anshika tossed and turned, sleep wouldn't come.
She stared at the ceiling, her heart still unsettled, her mind replaying the moment outside campus over and over again.
She had been caught off guard when that guy spoke to her, his tone too casual, his eyes filled with an arrogance that made her uneasy. She had felt a flicker of fear, her mind racing for the right response.
But before she could even react, Kartikey had been there.
Like he always was.
His presence had been quiet, steady—no raised voice, no unnecessary aggression. Just a firm stance, a sharp gaze, and a silence that spoke louder than any threats could.
And just like that, the guy had disappeared.
Anshika exhaled deeply, pressing her fingers against her temple. Mujhe itna sochne ki zaroorat nahi hai.
But she couldn't stop.
It mattered that he had been there. That he had looked at her like she was someone worth protecting.
Because beneath everything, beneath her confusion, beneath the unspoken words that still lingered between them—one thing was painfully clear.
With Kartikey, she had felt safe.
A kind of safety she had never consciously thought about before. Not just from that guy, but from everything. From the world, from uncertainties, from her own hesitations.
Safe to be herself. Safe to exist. Safe... with him.
Her fingers curled into the blanket as she exhaled shakily.
And not just physically. It was something deeper, something she couldn't quite put into words.
With him around, she didn't have to think. She didn't have to worry. She just knew—he would handle it.
Toh phir yeh ajeeb si feeling kyun ho rahi hai?
She didn't know what scared her more—the fact that the distance between them bothered her lately...
Maybe it was the way she hadn't been able to stop thinking about last evening. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't properly thanked him. Maybe it was something else entirely—something she wasn't ready to name yet.
She had spent an entire night realizing just how much his presence affected her, and now, she couldn't keep pretending it didn't.
She took a deep breath.
The moment she spotted him near the sports ground, casually leaning against the fence while talking to a few teammates, her resolve wavered.
What if he brushed her off?
What if he just nodded again and left, like yesterday?
What if—
No. Enough.
Before she could overthink any further, she took a deep breath and walked toward him.
"Kartikey?" Her voice was steady, but her fingers curled tighter around her bag.
He turned at the sound of his name, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.
She never sought him out. It was usually the other way around.
"Haan?" His tone was casual, but there was something unreadable in his gaze.
"Yes?"
Okay, Anshika. Just say it.
She hesitated, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag. "Woh... tum free ho? Chai peene chalein?"
"Umm... are you free? Let's go for tea?"
For a moment, silence.
Kartikey blinked. Once. Twice.
She could feel his eyes studying her, like he was trying to figure out if he had misheard.
Chai?
Of all things, chai?
She wasn't even a big fan of it. He had seen her trying to hide how her nose wrinkled at the overly sweet, overly milky canteen chai a hundred times. She always chose coffee or cold drinks instead.
But today, she was asking him for chai?
His grip tightened around the water bottle he was holding.
Kartikey just looked at her, his brows slightly furrowed, as if she had said something completely absurd.
And to be fair, she had.
A week ago, he wouldn't have thought twice before teasing her—"Tum kabse chai peene lagi?"—just to see her roll her eyes. But now...
Now, he hesitated.
He had spent days convincing himself to step back. To not push too much. To not let himself expect anything.
But here she was.
Clutching her bag strap—the flicker of hesitation in her own eyes—made him pause.
There was something vulnerable in the way she stood there, waiting.
And Kartikey had never been good at ignoring her, no matter how much he tried.
So instead of overthinking, he exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Chalo," he said simply, nodding toward the canteen.
"Let's go."
She blinked, as if not expecting him to agree so easily.
She exhaled, not even realizing she had been holding her breath.
And then, something even smaller, even more unexpected happened—
A fleeting moment.
As they walked side by side, the back of his hand brushed against hers. Just for a second.
Anshika's breath hitched, and she immediately curled her fingers into a fist. Kartikey, on the other hand, didn't pull away—didn't react at all.
But as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't ignore the slight rush of warmth spreading through his chest.
And maybe, just maybe, this was the moment he had been waiting for.
The canteen was bustling with students, the scent of chai, samosas, and freshly made maggi lingered in the air. But the table in the far corner—where Anshika and Kartikey sat—felt strangely separate from all the noise.
Anshika sat across from Kartikey, her fingers wrapped around the warm chai cup. She could feel the nervous flutter in her chest, but she forced herself to focus.
This was important.
Kartikey, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the table, fingers tapping lazily against the surface. His usual smirk was missing. Instead, he watched Anshika quietly, waiting.
Because he knew she hadn't brought him here just for chai.
Anshika was struggling to find the right words.
She had rehearsed this in her head—what she wanted to say, how she wanted to say it. But now that she was here, sitting across from him, her resolve faltered.
Still, she forced herself to start.
Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke.
"Mujhe tumse kuch baat karni thi."
"I need to talk to you."
Kartikey just looked at her silently. "Bolo."
"Go ahead."
She hesitated for only a second before continuing. "Main... main sorry bolna chahti hoon."
"I... I wanted to say sorry."
That made him pause. His fingers stilled around the cup, his gaze sharpening. "Kis baat ke liye?"
"For what?"
Anshika bit her lip, staring down at the steam rising from her chai. "Mujhe lagta hai... maine galat kiya." She sighed, finally meeting his gaze. "Jo log bol rahe the, jo mujhe feel ho raha tha... main unn sabse affect ho gayi thi. Aur mujhe nahi hona chahiye tha."
"I feel like I did wrong. I got affected by people and whatever i felt, I shouldn't have."
Kartikey didn't respond immediately. He just watched her, his expression giving nothing away.
She felt a lump in her throat but pushed forward. "Main bas chahti hoon ki sab waisa hi ho jaaye jaise pehle tha. Ki tum mujhse waise hi baat karo jaise pehle karte the."
"I just want everything to be the same as before. And talk just like before."
She said it all in one breath, as if she had been holding it in for too long.
Kartikey exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the canteen—the clinking of plates, the hum of conversations—faded into the background.
Kartikey sighed, running a hand through his hair.
The way she was looking at him now—uncertain, almost vulnerable—made something inside him waver.
He took a sip of his chai, giving himself a second before speaking.
"Tumhe lagta hai ki sab waisa hi ho sakta hai?" His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it.
"You think everything can be the same?"
Anshika's fingers tightened around her cup. "Haan..." she said softly, then, more firmly, "Haan, ho sakta hai."
"Yes... Yes it can be."
He studied her for a moment before shaking his head with a small smile. "Bohot ajeeb ladki ho tum. Pehle khud door bhaagti ho, ab keh rahi ho sab normal chahiye?"
"You're such a weird girl. You were running away, now you want everything to be normal?"
Anshika looked away, feeling her cheeks warm. "Mujhse galti ho gayi, sorry."
"I made a mistake, sorry."
He chuckled lightly at that, the sound unexpectedly soft.
And the wall between them cracked a little more than before.
Kartikey picked up his cup, taking another sip, then met her eyes with something gentler than before.
"Theek hai, Anshika. Jaisa tum chaho."
"Fine, Anshika. Whatever you want."
The tension between them had eased, but something still lingered—something unspoken, something neither of them dared to name yet.
As they finished their chai, Anshika found herself stealing glances at Kartikey, watching the way he lazily leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the empty cup. He wasn't teasing her like before, but he wasn't distant either. It was different.
Comfortable, yet... unfamiliar.
She wasn't sure if it was because of her or because of them.
Just as she was lost in her thoughts, Kartikey's voice pulled her back. "Vaise tumhe sach mein chai peeni thi ya sirf bahane se bulane ke liye bola?"
"So you really wanted to have tea or was it just so you can talk to me?"
Anshika rolled her eyes, huffing. "Maine bola na ki mujhe baat karni thi."
"I said I wanted to talk."
His smiled deepened. "Toh coffee nahi pee sakte the?"
"We couldn't have coffee?"
She pressed her lips together, looking away. Truth was, it was because he liked chai.
Kartikey watched her for a moment, and something in his chest tightened.
She was here. Sitting in front of him, trying to mend things, looking at her fidgeting with her bracelet, avoiding his eyes, he could tell—this wasn't just a casual conversation for her.
She had meant it.
And somehow, that mattered more than he had expected.
"Agli baar coffee peeyenge," he said suddenly, his tone lighter.
"Next time we will have coffee."
Anshika looked up at him, startled.
His voice was casual, but there was a softness in his eyes—a silent reassurance that he wasn't holding onto the distance anymore.
She blinked before quickly nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Theek hai."
"Okay."
And just like that, the space between them didn't feel so heavy anymore.
It wasn't exactly how things used to be.
Maybe things wouldn't go back to how they were. Maybe they weren't supposed to.
Maybe, just maybe, they were meant to be something else entirely.
Anshika didn't know how she got roped into this. One moment she was sitting quietly in the cafeteria, half-listening to her friends talk about their weekend plans, and the next, she was standing in a noisy arcade, the bright neon lights reflecting off the glossy tiles.
All because of Kartikey.
He had casually agreed to the idea that they should all go to the arcade—his treat. And somehow, no one, including her, had protested. Maybe it was his confidence, the way he made everything sound easy and fun. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he had looked at her when he said, "Tum bhi aa rahi ho, no excuses." Something in his voice had made her pause before shaking her head in reluctant agreement.
Now, she stood at the edge of the room, watching her friends rush toward different games, excited chatter filling the space. She felt out of place—this wasn't her thing. The blinking lights, the loud noises, the overwhelming energy. It was too much. Too unfamiliar.
Kartikey must have noticed.
He walked up beside her, hands in his pockets, casually tilting his head toward her. "Kya hua? Yahin khadi rahogi? Chalo na."
"What happened? Will you keep standing here? Come."
She shot him a flat look. "Mujhe yeh sab khelna nahi aata."
"I don't know how to play all this."
"Seekh lo," he said easily, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Main hoon na."
"Learn then, I'm here na."
"Basketball khelna hai?" he asked, tilting his head toward the machine.
"Want to play basketball?"
She shook her head quickly. "Mujhse nahi hoga."
"I can't do it."
"Try toh karo, Anshika" he said, stepping closer. His voice was lower, coaxing, almost like a challenge. "Main sikha dunga."
"Atleast try, Anshika. I'll teach you."
Before she could protest, he gently nudged her towards the basketball arcade game, swiped the arcade card, and the game started. The basketballs rolled forward. Anshika sighed, picking one up hesitantly.
She bit her lip, looking at the hoop in hesitation. "Main-"
"I-"
"Bas ek round. Phir chhod dena agar achha nahi lage toh." His voice was steady, but there was something softer in it. Like he actually wanted her to have fun, not just play along.
"Just one round. If you don't like it after that, then we will leave it."
She sighed, hesitantly throwing the ball toward the hoop. It missed. She frowned. Of course.
Kartikey smiled. "Dekha? Itna bura bhi nahi tha. Doosra try karo."
"See? Wasn't that bad. Try again."
She shot him a look, but this time, there was a little less hesitation and a little more determination.
Anshika pursed her lips, determined now. She tried again—still missed.
"Ruko, main sikhata hoon."
"Wait, I'll teach you."
Before she could react, Kartikey stepped behind her, close—too close. His arm brushed against hers as he guided her hands over the ball.
"Thoda wrist pe focus karo and aim better." his voice was softer now, lacking its usual teasing edge.
"Focus on your wrist and aim better."
Anshika felt a strange rush of warmth spread through her. She could sense the heat of his presence, the way his breath was just near her ear. It was fleeting, barely a second, but enough to make her heartbeat stutter.
She took another shot. It bounced against the rim and fell in.
A small, victorious smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it. Kartikey saw it, and for some reason, that made warmth spread through his chest.
He didn't say anything, just handed her another ball. She kept playing, missing a few, making some, and with each one, the stiffness in her shoulders seemed to ease. Kartikey just stood beside her, giving small, teasing comments but never pushing too much. Just enough to keep her going.
A while later, after her third game, she turned to him with a barely-there smile. "Kaisa tha?"
"How was it?"
Kartikey smiled. "Achievement unlocked."
She smiled back, this time a little more widely.
As they moved away from the game, someone bumped into her from behind, making her lose her balance. Before she could react, Kartikey's hand instinctively shot out, grabbing her wrist.
For a second, she was pulled closer, their chests almost touching.
Neither of them moved. The noise of the arcade faded into the background as her wide eyes met his steady ones. There was a flicker of something in them—concern, maybe? Something deeper?
Then, just as quickly as it happened, he let go, clearing his throat. "Careful." His voice was casual, but there was an unspoken weight to it.
Anshika nodded, stepping back. "Hmm."
He hesitated for a second, looking like he wanted to say something more. His fingers twitched slightly before he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Zyada ho gaya kya? Kahin voh uncomfortable toh nahi ho gayi ? The doubt was fleeting but enough to make him second-guess himself.
But then, she looked at him—not with awkwardness or discomfort, but with something softer, almost like acknowledgment.
And just like that, he knew he hadn't overstepped.
"Chalein?" he asked, a small smile returning to his lips.
"Let's go?"
Anshika nodded. And as they walked back to join their friends, she realized something—maybe, just maybe, Kartikey wasn't as overwhelming as she had thought.
And maybe, just maybe, she didn't mind him paying attention to her.
Then came the air hockey match.
"Main aur Anshika ek team," Kartikey declared before anyone could argue.
"Me and Anshika are a team,"
"Kyuuuu?" Their friend Priya whined. "Hamesha tum dono ek saath!"
"Whyyyy? You both are always together!"
Anshika's face warmed. Hamesha?
"Arrey, Anshika meri lucky charm hai," Kartikey said smoothly, too casually.
"Anshika is my lucky charm."
Her stomach twisted at his words, but she acted like she didn't hear it, looking around the arcade.
The match was fast paced, filled with Kartikey's competitive energy. At one point, the puck shot toward Anshika's side, and in her rush to block it, her hand collided with his.
For a split second, neither of them moved.
Her fingers brushed over his, warm and steady. His hand twitched slightly, as if debating whether to pull away or let the moment stretch. Anshika glanced up at him—and froze.
For the first time, Kartikey wasn't smirking. His expression was unreadable, something flickering in his dark eyes—something uncertain.
And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. He pulled back, clearing his throat, masking it with an easy grin.
"Good reflexes," he said lightly.
But Anshika had seen it. That tiny moment of hesitation.
When the others rushed to the next game, He noticed how her eyes lingered on the claw machine. When someone won a prize, she didn't say anything, but her lips parted just slightly, a flicker of fascination there before she schooled her features.
Smiling to himself, he casually walked over to the machine. "Agar main yeh jeet gaya, toh it will be a gift for you." he said, slipping a coin into the slot before she could protest.
"If I win, it'll be a gift for you."
She frowned. "M-main kya karugi iska? Mujhe n-nahi chahiye."
"What will I do with it? I don't want it."
"Haan, par tumhe pasand toh hai," he murmured, his voice softer, more certain.
"Yes, but you like it."
Anshika blinked at him, thrown off by his quiet confidence. But before she could respond, he was already focused on the game. His brows furrowed slightly as he maneuvered the claw, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more intent.
For a moment, he hesitated. What if he messed this up? What if this whole thing—his attempts to get her to loosen up, to trust him—was too much? He wasn't used to second-guessing himself, but with her, he sometimes did.
The claw grabbed a small plush bunny, and after a suspenseful second, it dropped into the collection bin. Kartikey let out a triumphant "Aha!" before picking it up and turning to her.
"Yeh lo, tumhare liye."
"Here, for you."
Anshika hesitated, staring at the bunny. Something in her chest tightened—this wasn't just about the toy. It was about the fact that he had noticed, that he had understood her without her saying a word.
When she finally took it, their fingers brushed. It was nothing—a fleeting touch, an accidental graze—but the warmth of his skin lingered longer than it should have. Anshika swallowed, pulling the toy close to her chest.
Kartikey pretended not to notice the way she held it a little too carefully, the way her fingers curled around its ears. He simply smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Chalein?"
She nodded still clutching the bunny close to her, as they walked towards the others.
As the night went on, they played more games—Kartikey purposefully losing a round of racing just to see her laugh at his exaggerated defeat, each interaction, each shared glance, chipped away at her walls, making her feel something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.
By the end of the night, when their group was leaving, Anshika clutched the plush toy in her hand, looking at it with quiet contemplation. Kartikey, walking beside her, noticed and nudged her lightly. "Usey itne pyaar se bhi mat dekho, zinda ho gaya toh."
"Don't look at it with so much love, what if it becomes alive."
She rolled her eyes but didn't stop looking at it. And Kartikey, watching her from the corner of his eye, couldn't help but smile to himself.
Maybe tonight had been worth it after all.
The arcade had been unexpectedly fun, but the night wasn't over yet. As they stepped out into the cool air, Priya stretched her arms with a yawn. "Ab kya? Ghar chalein?"
"What now? Should we head home?"
"Nahi yaar, ice cream khane chalte hain!" Rahul suggested, already unlocking his bike.
"No, let's go for icecream!"
"I'm up for it," Kartikey grinned, stretching his arms lazily before glancing at Anshika. "Tumhe chalna hai?"
"You wanna go?"
Anshika, who had been quietly holding onto her plush bunny, hesitated for a second before nodding. "Haan, chal sakte hain."
"Yes, we can go."
Priya narrowed her eyes playfully. "Matlab ab tu bina argument kiye agree kar rahi hai?"
"So now you will agree without any argument?"
Anshika's lips parted, but before she could respond, Kartikey smirked. "Progress ho rahi hai."
"There's progress."
She shot him a flat look but didn't argue. Instead, she quietly followed the group as they headed towards a nearby ice cream parlor. It was a small, cozy place with warm yellow lighting, the kind that felt familiar and comforting. The faint scent of waffle cones and chocolate filled the air, mixing with the soft hum of laughter from other customers.
They all lined up near the counter, looking at the menu.
"Main strawberry," Priya announced.
"Vanilla," Rahul added.
"Hum bhi," Meera and Arjun agreed.
"Us too,"
As the others gave their orders, Kartikey leaned slightly toward Anshika. "Tum kya logi?"
"What will you have?"
She pursed her lips, scanning the menu before deciding. "Chocolate."
Kartikey hummed. "Expected."
She raised an eyebrow. "Kyun?"
"Why?"
"Humesha chocolates hi khati rehti ho, Anshika." he said smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief.
"You always have chocolates, Anshika."
Anshika blinked at him, unsure how to respond. Before she could say anything, he casually turned to the counter. "Bhaiya, do chocolate."
"Brother, two chocolate."
They all took their ice creams and sat at a long table outside. The city's night buzzed around them, distant car horns and soft conversations blending with their own laughter.
Anshika took small bites of her ice cream, feeling content yet strangely thoughtful. Kartikey noticed. "Kya soch rahi ho?"
"What are you thinking?"
She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Kuch nahi. Bas... yeh sab kabhi kiya nahi tha."
"Nothing. I just never did all this."
He frowned slightly, shifting in his seat. "Matlab?"
"What do you mean?"
Anshika twirled her spoon in the melting ice cream. "Matlab arcade jaana, aise doston ke saath late tak ghoomna... kabhi kiya nahi."
"I mean going to the arcade, being out with friends so late... I've never done it."
Kartikey stilled. His grip on his cone tightened slightly as he studied her expression. "Pehle kabhi doston ke saath nahi gayi?"
"You never went out with friends?"
She shook her head and took a bite of her ice cream, then spoke so casually that it caught him off guard. "Mujhe hamesha se arcade jaana tha."
"I always wanted to go to an arcade."
He turned to her, surprised. "Haan?"
"Really?"
She kept her gaze on her ice cream, swirling the spoon around the cup. "Haan but kabhi gayi nahi."
"Yes but I never did."
He frowned. "Kyun?"
"Why?"
She shrugged. "Friends nahi the saath jaane ke liye."
"I didn't have friends who would take me with them."
The simplicity of her statement hit him harder than it should have. Anshika had always been quiet, reserved, never the type to push herself into crowds. But he had never thought about why.
"Koi nahi tha?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
"No-one?"
She shook her head, letting out a small chuckle. "Nahi. School mein toh bas padhai aur ghar. Aur mujhe dost banana bhi nahi aata tha."
"No. School was all about studies and coming back home. And I didn't know how to make friends either."
Kartikey observed her closely—the way her voice held no self-pity, just a quiet acceptance. But something about it made his chest tighten.
"Ab toh hain na?" he asked after a pause. "Friends?"
"Now you have na? Friends?
She looked up at him then, as if she hadn't expected the question. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Haan. Ab hain."
"Yes. I do."
Something in him settled at that.
"Ab hain," he confirmed, his voice softer than he intended. "Main hoon."
"You do, I'm here."
Anshika glanced at him, something flickering in her gaze—something she wasn't sure she wanted to acknowledge.
Kartikey had always known that Anshika was hesitant around people, that she was careful, deliberate in the way she let people in. But tonight, seeing her open up just a little, made him realize how much she had probably spent her life on the outside, watching from a distance rather than stepping in.
And maybe that's why she didn't trust easily. Maybe that's why she didn't let people too close—because she never had a reason to believe they would stay.
He looked down at his ice cream, tapping his spoon against the edge of the cup. "Aaj ke baad, tumhe kabhi arcade jaane ka mann kare, toh mujhe batana. Main hamesha free hoon."
"From now on, whenever you want to go to the arcade, tell me. I'm always free."
She raised a brow. "Hamesha? Tumhare paas time hoga?"
"Always? You'll have time for that?"
Kartikey smiled with a warmth in his eyes. "Tumhare liye hamesha."
"For you, always."
It wasn't just a line, not just his usual teasing. He meant it. And from the way her eyes flickered with something unreadable, he thought maybe she knew it too.
For a while, they didn't say anything. Their friends were still chatting animatedly in the background, but in their little bubble, there was only the quiet sound of spoons scraping against ice cream cups, the occasional glance, the comfortable silence.
Anshika, clutching her plush bunny in one hand and ice cream in the other, felt something shift in her. She wasn't sure what it was—maybe it was the way Kartikey had just listened without making it a big deal. Maybe it was the way he had simply offered to be there, no questions, no expectations.
Kartikey didn't miss the weight behind her words. He had always sensed that she was reserved, careful about the people she let close. But hearing her say it so plainly—
It struck something deep inside him.
He thought about it for a second, about the way she had hesitated before playing the basketball game, the way she had held onto that plush bunny like it was something precious, the way she observed more than she spoke.
Anshika didn't let herself want things too easily.
Maybe that was why she was so hesitant—about people, about trusting them, about letting them in. If she had spent so long keeping a safe distance, not expecting things like this, then of course she wouldn't know how to just... be.
His jaw tightened slightly. It wasn't pity he felt—he knew Anshika was strong, independent in her own way. But it made him wonder just how much she had stopped herself from experiencing simply because she had no one to experience it with.
"Tumne kabhi bataya nahi," he finally said, keeping his voice light but careful.
"You never told me,"
She shrugged. "Batane jaisa kuch tha hi nahi."
"It was not something to tell."
That made his chest tighten a little more. Kyunki tumhe lagta hai ki koi sunega nahi? Par mujhe toh tumhare baare me sab jaanna hai, Anshika. He wanted to say but didn't.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, watching her for a second before saying, "Agar pehle nahi kiya, toh ab kar lo."
"You couldn't do it before, so you should now."
She looked at him, brows slightly furrowed. "Kya?"
"What?"
He gestured vaguely. "Jo bhi tumne miss kiya hai. Jo karna chahti ho. Itna complicated thodi hai."
"Whatever you missed. Whatever you want to do. It's not so complicated."
She let out a small laugh. "Tumhe toh sab easy lagta hai."
"You find everything easy."
Kartikey smiled. "Nahi, bas tum unnecessarily complicated bana deti ho."
"No, you just make them unnecessary complicated."
She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.
For a while, they just ate in silence. But Kartikey's mind was still running, trying to piece together the girl sitting across from him. He had known her for months now, maybe even longer from a distance, but tonight, for the first time, he felt like he was seeing something deeper. Something more than just the quiet, hesitant girl who preferred to stay unnoticed.
"Anshika," he said suddenly, making her look up. He held her gaze, his voice quieter now. "Agar tumhe kabhi bhi kuch bhi karna ho, bas bata dena. Main chaloonga."
"If you ever want to do anything, just tell me. I will come."
She blinked at him.
He took another bite of his ice cream before saying, "Matlab agar kabhi aur arcade jaana ho, ya kuch aur try karna ho jo pehle kabhi nahi kiya. Main hoon na."
"I mean if you want to go to the arcade again, or you want to try something else you never did. I'm here na."
His tone was so casual, so natural, but Anshika felt something shift inside her. Kartikey didn't say it like he was doing her a favor. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Like she didn't even have to think before asking him.
She looked down at her ice cream, suddenly unsure of what to say. But something about the way he said it, the ease in his voice, made her feel something unfamiliar.
Maybe, for the first time, she wasn't as alone as she had always thought.
🌻
Anshika was too exhausted after dance practice, the weight of the routine pressing down on her muscles like iron chains. The moment they finished the routine, she plopped down on the floor, pressing her palms to the cold marble to steady herself. A few other members lingered, chatting about upcoming events, but her focus remained solely on catching her breath.
Then, a cold sensation brushed against her wrist.
She blinked, startled, and found a water bottle extended toward her.
"Yeh lo," Kartikey said, standing over her, his voice casual, almost dismissive, as if this wasn't a big deal.
"Take this,"
For a moment, she hesitated, instinctively wanting to refuse. But as she looked up, she noticed the sweat clinging to his forehead, his practice jersey damp from his own training session. He must have come straight from the field.
Kartikey sighed, as if already anticipating her resistance. "Anshika, just take it. Tumhare chehre pe likha hai ki paani chahiye."
"It's clear on your face that you need water."
"Main khud le-" she began, but he cut her off effortlessly.
"I'll take-"
"Par liya nahi," he pointed out, his expression amused yet patient.
"But you didn't,"
Reluctantly, she accepted the bottle, mumbling a quiet, "Thank you," before taking a sip. The ice-cold water instantly soothed her dry throat.
Instead of walking away as she expected, Kartikey crouched beside her, resting his arms on his knees. His gaze flickered toward the lingering dancers before settling back on her.
"Tough routine?" he asked.
She nodded, capping the bottle. "Haan... thoda."
"Yes... a bit."
"Thoda?" He huffed a small laugh. "Tumhe dekh ke toh aisa lag raha hai jaise kisi ne marathon karwa diya ho."
"A bit? It seems like they've made you run a marathon."
She scowled at him, more out of habit than actual irritation. "Tumhe kaise pata? Main thaki nahi hoon, bas... rest kar rahi hoon."
"How do you know? I'm not tired, I'm just... resting."
He gave her a knowing look. "Haan, haan. Matlab tum abhi uthke mujhe routine dikha sakti ho?"
"Sure sure. That means you can show me the routine right now?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Nahi."
"No."
"Toh?"
"Then?"
She exhaled in defeat, looking away. "Haan, thak gayi hoon."
"Yes, I'm tired."
"Exactly," he said smugly, pushing himself up and dusting off his joggers. "Chalo, rest karo. Lunch mein milte hain."
"Okay, rest now. I'll see you at lunch."
Without waiting for a response, he walked away as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving Anshika staring after him. Her heart was beating oddly fast, though she refused to dwell on it.
It was nothing. Just a simple gesture.
At least, that's what she told herself.
"Anshika, tujhe bhook nahi lagi?" Priya asked, raising a brow. "Lunch break hone wala hai, chal canteen chalte hain."
"Anshika, aren't you hungry? It's almost lunch break, let's go to the canteen."
Anshika shook her head. "Nahi, mujhe bhook nahi hai. Tum log jao."
"No, I'm not hungry. You guys can go."
Priya and Meera, both gave her a doubtful look but didn't push. They got up one by one, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
A few minutes later, a plate slid in front of her. She blinked at the sight of a sandwich and two small cups of coffee.
"Yeh-?" She turned her head, already knowing who it was.
"This-?"
Kartikey pulled up a chair, sitting beside her like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Canteen kyu nahi aayi?"
"Why didn't you come to the canteen?"
"Hn?"
"Kuch nahi, tum nahi aayi." He leaned back, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Isliye le aaya."
"Nothing, you didn't come. That's why I bought this."
Anshika stared at him, unsure how to respond. No one ever noticed small things like that about her. Not even Meera, who was supposed to be her best friend.
She picked up the sandwich hesitantly. Kartikey didn't look at her, didn't wait for a thank you. He simply scrolled through his phone like he had done nothing special.
But it was special.
And that made everything worse.
Later that day, the library was eerily quiet, the low hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the space. Anshika tapped her pen against her notebook, glancing at her phone.
Meera had ditched her. Again.
Sorry yaar, urgent kaam aa gaya. Kal kar lenge na?
Sorry, something urgent came up. We will do it tomorrow na?
Anshika sighed. It wasn't that she couldn't study alone, but today's topic was difficult, and she had been relying on Meera's notes to help her through it. Anshika sighed again, flipping through her notes, trying to focus on the upcoming quiz, but the numbers were beginning to blur.
"You look like you're about to commit a murder," Kartikey's voice broke through the silence.
She glanced up sharply to see him pulling out the chair beside hers.
"Hm?" she frowned.
"That glare," he smirked, nodding at the paper she had been stabbing with her pen. "Bechara notebook."
"Poor notebook."
She exhaled, shaking her head. "Meera mujhe beech mein chhod kar chali gayi," she muttered, a small pout unconsciously forming on her lips. "Aur mujhe yeh sab samajh nahi aa raha."
"Meera ditched me in the middle. And I'm not able to understand all this."
Kartikey leaned forward, glancing at her notes. "Dikhao, main samjhata hoon."
"Show me, I'll teach you."
She hesitated. "Tumhe bhi toh padhna hoga-"
"But you also need to study-?"
"Ho gaya," he cut her off, already pulling her notebook closer. "Chalo, batao kya samajh nahi aa raha."
"I'm done, come on, tell me what are you not able to understand."
And just like that, he walked her through the problems, explaining concepts in a way that made them seem far less daunting. His voice was steady, calm, never making her feel stupid for not understanding right away. And every time she got something right, he gave her an approving nod that made something unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she found herself thinking about him again. He hadn't needed to help her. He had finished his studies already. Yet, he had sat beside her, patiently explaining each concept like it was the most natural thing in the world. Why?
Anshika didn't know when it started happening—the way Kartikey always seemed to be around. She told herself it was coincidence, that he was just... observant. That was all.
But then, one day, as she walked out of the dance studio after another grueling practice, she found him leaning against the railing outside, scrolling through his phone.
"Tum yahan?" she asked, slowing down.
"You here?"
He looked up, stuffing his phone into his pocket. "Haan, bas aise hi. Tum free ho ab?"
"Yes, are you free now?"
She frowned slightly. "Haan, kyun?"
"Yes, why?"
"Chalo, ek jagah chalna hai."
"Come, we have to go somewhere."
"Kaha—"
"Wher-"
"Chalogi toh pata chalega," he said, smiling.
"You'll find out."
She hesitated but then nodded, curiosity getting the better of her. As they walked, she realized her heart was beating a little too fast. And this time, she wasn't sure she could brush it off as nothing.
Anshika sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the hem of her kurti as Kartikey drove out of the campus. She wasn't sure why she had agreed to go with him, but there was something in his tone—something unspoken—that made her curious.
The road stretched long and quiet, the occasional flicker of streetlights casting shadows inside the car. Kartikey drove with one hand on the steering wheel, his other resting casually on the gear shift. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't easy either. Anshika stole a glance at him. He looked relaxed, eyes focused on the road ahead, but she could see the way his jaw tensed slightly, as if lost in thought.
"Kahan ja rahe hai?" she finally asked, breaking the quiet.
"Where are we going?"
Kartikey smiled but kept his eyes on the road. "Bataana zaroori hai?"
"Do I need to tell you?"
She sighed. "Mujhe kidnap hone ka darr toh nahi hai, par bata dete toh achha hota."
"I am not afraid of being kidnapped, but it would be better if you told me."
A soft chuckle left his lips. "Bas thoda aur wait karlo. Pasand aayega tumhe."
"Just wait a little. You will like it."
She frowned but didn't ask further. Instead, she watched the city lights fade as they entered a quieter road, surrounded by trees. The hum of the car engine was the only sound between them until he finally turned onto a dirt path. A few minutes later, he parked the car and switched off the engine.
Anshika hesitated before stepping out. The air was cooler here, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves. In front of them stretched a vast, silent lake, the water reflecting the dim light of the crescent moon. It was secluded, peaceful—nothing like the chaos of their college campus.
"Kartikey..." she turned to him, surprised. "Yeh jagah—"
"This place—"
"Achhi hai na?" he interrupted, watching her reaction carefully. "Main yahan bohot aata hoon, especially jab sab kuch overwhelming lagne lagta hai."
"It's nice na? I come here a lot, especially when everything gets overwhelming."
She looked at him, the weight of his words settling over her. "Overwhelming?"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Haan. Kabhi kabhi... sab kuch."
"Yes. Sometimes... everything."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. She turned back to the lake, wrapping her arms around herself. She had never seen this side of him before—quiet, contemplative. The Kartikey she knew was confident, always surrounded by people, always in control. But here, he seemed... different.
"Tum mujhe yaha kyun laaye?" she asked softly.
"Why did you bring me here?"
He leaned against the hood of his car, looking at her rather than the lake. "Pata nahi," he admitted. "Bas laga ki tum samjhogi."
"I don't know, I just thought you will understand."
She blinked, startled. "Main?"
"Me?"
He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Tumhare bare mein bohot kuch toh nahi jaanta, par jitna jaanta aur samjhta hoon, usse laga ki mujhe tumhe yahan lana hai ."
"I don't know a lot about you, but based on how much I know and understand, I felt I should bring you here."
Anshika swallowed, caught off guard by his words. No one had ever said something like that to her before. She had always been the quiet one, the girl who stayed on the edges, unseen but present.
He walked closer to the edge, gazing at the water. "Jab bhi dimag zyada bhatak raha ho, ya phir sab kuch zyada overwhelming lage, main yahan aa jata hoon." His voice was softer now, almost as if he were confessing a secret.
"Whenever my mind wanders a lot, or everything gets overwhelming, I just come here."
She glanced at him, sensing the weight behind his words. "Aur aaj? Aaj yahan kyun aaye?"
"And today? Why did you come here today?"
Kartikey let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Shayad kisi aur ko bhi sab overwhelming lag raha hai."
"Maybe someone else is feeling overwhelmed too."
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away, focusing on the rippling water instead. They stood there in silence, the quiet hum of the evening settling around them. Anshika had never imagined herself standing here with him, sharing a moment that felt strangely intimate despite the distance between them.
She watched him carefully, the faint moonlight highlighting the sharp edges of his face. There was something raw in his voice, an honesty she hadn't expected.
"Kabhi kabhi bas aa jata hoon yahan," he murmured, his eyes drifting to the water. "Kaam, college, responsibilities... sab se dur. Thodi der ke liye sab kuch bhoolne ke liye."
"Sometimes I just come here. Work, college, responsibilities... away from all of that. To forget everything for some time."
Anshika tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Par tum toh—"
"But you-"
"Perfect lagta hoon, haina?" He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Sabko lagta hai ki Kartikey Shekhawat ke paas sab kuch hai. Career, friends, ek sorted life." His eyes focused on the moon now. "You know main bhi ek time pe akela tha."
"Seems perfect? Everyone thinks Kartikey Shekhawat has everything. Career, friends, a sorted life. But you know I was also alone at a point."
She frowned, surprised. "Akela? Tumhare toh—"
"Alone? But you have-"
"Ab hai," he cut in gently. "Humesha nahi the yeh friends, aur maine tumhe bataya na sabse baat karta hoon iska matlab yeh nahi sab friends hai."
"I do now. They weren't always here, and I told you na, just because I talk to everyone, doesn't mean everyone is my friend."
She didn't know what to say to that. She had seen his popularity, the way people gravitated toward him, but she had never thought about what lay beneath.
Anshika turned her head slightly, watching his profile in the dim light. There was something vulnerable in the way he spoke, something real that made her chest tighten. She had always seen him as confident, as someone who belonged effortlessly in the world. Hearing this side of him felt... different.
"Akele rehna mushkil hota hai," she murmured.
"Being alone is difficult."
He looked at her then, his gaze steady. "Haan, hota hai. Par kabhi kabhi akele rehna zaroori bhi hota hai. Tumhe aisa nahi lagta?"
"Yes, it is. But sometimes it's important to be alone. Don't you think?"
She hesitated, but then, very slowly, she nodded. "Humesha."
"Always."
Another pause, heavier this time. Anshika felt Kartikey's eyes on her, but she kept her gaze ahead, afraid that if she met his eyes, he'd see too much.
"Main tumhe yeh sab kyun bata raha hoon, yeh mujhe bhi nahi pata," he admitted, shaking his head as if amused at himself.
"Even I don't know, why am I telling you this,"
A strange warmth settled in her chest, but before she could analyze it, he spoke again.
"Waise, tumhare gharwale kaise hain? Lucknow mein sab kaisa hai?"
"By the way, how's your family? How's everything in Lucknow?"
She stiffened slightly, caught off guard. "Tumhe kaise pata ki main Lucknow se hoon?"
"How do you know that I'm from Lucknow?"
He smiled, tilting his head slightly. "Meera ne bataya, ek din hum sab aisehi baatein kar rahe the toh"
"Meera told me, when everyone was just chatting one day."
Anshika pressed her lips together, her fingers gripping the sleeves of her kurti. Lucknow. Ghar. Papa. Mummy. Dadaji. It was a topic she didn't like to talk about, especially not here, not now.
Kartikey must have noticed her hesitation because his expression softened. He didn't press. Instead, he shifted his weight against the car hood and shrugged casually. "It's okay, phir kabhi bata dena. Mann kare toh."
"Tell me some other time. If you feel like it."
She exhaled quietly, relieved yet... strangely touched by his understanding. Most people would have kept asking, but he didn't.
She quickly turned back to the lake, feeling her heart hammer in her chest.
Silence stretched between them, not awkward, but heavy with unsaid things. The breeze played with the loose strands of her hair, and she turned away, unsure why her heart felt strangely tight.
"Tumhare liye bhi koi aisi jagah hai, Lucknow mein?" he asked after a moment.
"Is there a place like this for you, in Lucknow?"
She shook her head. "Nahi. Mujhe toh zyada dur akele jaane ki permission bhi nahi milti thi." She smiled slightly. "Par yahan acha lag raha hai."
"No, I didn't even have the permission to go this far alone. But I like it here."
A few moments of silence passed before she cleared her throat. "Tum yahaan pehle bhi kisi ko laaye ho?"
"Have you bought someone here before?"
Kartikey seemed to think about it for a second. "Nahi."
"No."
She glanced at him. "Toh mujhe kyun?"
"Then why me?"
He shrugged, his gaze never leaving her. "Pata nahi... bola na bas laga ki tum samjhogi."
"I don't know... I told you na I just felt you will understand."
Something flickered inside her, something she wasn't ready to name. She looked down at the pebbles near her feet, kicking one into the water.
"Bas," Kartikey said, breaking the silence again. "Ab tum yahan aa sakti ho, jab bhi tum chaho."
"Now you can come here, whenever you want."
She frowned slightly, looking up at him. "Kya?"
"What?"
"Yeh jagah sirf meri nahi hai, Anshika," he said, his voice quieter now. "Agar kabhi tumhe bhi sab overwhelming lage... toh aa sakti ho."
"This place is not just mine, Anshika. If you ever feel overwhelmed... then you can come here."
Anshika swallowed, his words settling deep within her. She wasn't sure what to say, but somehow, she knew he understood even her silence.
The lake rippled softly under the moonlight, and for the first time in a long time, Anshika felt like she wasn't completely alone.
Kartikey studied her for a long moment. Then, with a quiet smile, he said, "Jab bhi lage ki sab kuch overwhelming ho raha hai, mujhe bata dena. Main yahan le aaunga."
"Whenever you feel everything is getting overwhelming, tell me. I'll bring you here."
Something in the way he said it made her chest feel warm. She looked away, her fingers tightening around her sleeve.
"Shayad..." she said hesitantly. "Shayad kabhi bataungi."
"Maybe... maybe I will tell you someday."
He smiled, but his eyes held something softer. "Theek hai. Main intezaar karunga."
Their group had started hanging out more lately—not intentionally, but it happened. College events, casual hangouts after classes, random meetups in the canteen, but now they found themselves going out more—movies, casual dinners, even weekend football matches where the boys played and the girls watched from the sidelines, cheering, or in Anshika's case, watching silently while Meera and Priya screamed encouragements.
One evening, they were all at a small street-side stall near campus, the table filled with plates of chaat and steaming cups of chai. Anshika, still full from lunch, had only ordered chai, but Kartikey frowned when she waved off the golgappas being passed around.
"Tum kyun nahi kha rahi?" he asked, tone casual but observant.
"Why are you not eating?"
"Bas, mann nahi hai," she replied, sipping her chai.
"I just don't feel like it,"
He didn't say anything, but when he placed a plate of dahi puri in front of her a few minutes later, she knew it wasn't for himself. He just continued talking to the others as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.
Anshika stared at the plate, warmth curling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the food.
Hanging out in a group should have made things easier. It should have given her a sense of normalcy, a barrier between her and Kartikey.
Except, even in a group, he was there.
She wasn't sure when she and Kartikey had started gravitating toward each other. It wasn't intentional. It wasn't something she planned. But somehow, she would always find herself sitting near him, walking beside him, his presence something she was starting to get used to.
Like the time they had all gone for a late-night ice cream run after a particularly exhausting week. She had casually mentioned wanting chocolate flavor, and by the time she turned to pay, Kartikey had already handed the vendor money and passed her the cone.
"Maine bola tha main khud le lungi," she had said, annoyed.
"I told you I will get it myself,"
"Aur maine bola tha ki main nahi sunn raha," he had replied, smirking.
"And I told you that I'm not listening,"
She had scowled, but the ice cream had tasted sweeter somehow.
Then there were moments that were even smaller, but harder to ignore. Like when he had casually blocked a group of rowdy boys from bumping into her at a tea stall, his hand briefly resting on her lower back before pulling away as if the touch had never been there. Or when she had forgotten her jacket in the auditorium, and before she could even complain about the cold, Kartikey had silently draped his over her shoulders, continuing to talk to Rahul as if nothing had happened.
It was late in the evening, and the cool breeze had begun to settle over the campus. Anshika walked alongside her friends, her arms wrapped around herself as she realized she had left her jacket in the auditorium. Great. Ab raho thand mein.
Rahul was saying something to Kartikey about the next match, but Anshika wasn't paying attention—she was too busy mentally scolding herself for being careless. She opened her mouth to complain, but before she could even utter a word, something warm and heavy landed over her shoulders.
She blinked in surprise. Kartikey's jacket.
She turned to look at him, but he didn't even acknowledge it. As if nothing had happened, he continued his conversation with Rahul, casually stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Bro, finals ke liye practice double karni padegi," Rahul was saying.
"Bro, we need to practice double for finals,"
"Haan," Kartikey replied, his voice calm, unfazed. "Kal subah se shuru karenge."
"Yes, we will start tomorrow morning."
Anshika, meanwhile, stood there, completely thrown off. She glanced at Kartikey, then down at the jacket wrapped around her.
"Tumne—" she started, but he finally glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.
"You-"
"Kya?" He asked, as if he had no idea what she was about to say.
"What?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Mujhe nahi chahiye yeh."
"I don't want this."
"Toh utaar do," he said nonchalantly, looking ahead again.
"Then take it off,"
She huffed, gripping the edges of the jacket tighter. The jacket smelled like him—like mint and something vaguely musky, mixed with just a hint of sweat from practice. It was oversized, the sleeves hanging past her wrists, swallowing her petite frame.
She should say something. Return it. But the warmth was too comforting, and the way he had done it so naturally, so effortlessly—left her momentarily speechless. "Thand lag rahi hai."
"I'm cold."
His lips twitched, but he didn't look at her. "Toh rakhlo, Anshika."
"Then keep it, Anshika."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he simply smirked, still refusing to look at her, and kept walking. Anshika knew she could take it off, but the warmth had already settled around her. And all she could do was stand there, wrapped in his jacket, wrapped in a feeling she wasn't sure she was ready to admit, so she rolled her eyes and kept the jacket on, pretending it didn't matter.
But the stupid, traitorous smile tugging at her lips? She couldn't do much about that.
None of it crossed a line. None of it was overwhelming. But all of it made Anshika's heart race in ways she wasn't ready to admit.
When they all went to the cafe after class, he ended up sitting next to her. When they played dumb games like 'Never Have I Ever,' he paid attention to her reactions more than anyone else's. When they walked back to her house together, he always slowed his pace to match hers.
It wasn't obvious. It wasn't something that would make anyone else suspicious.
But she noticed.
And it made her heart ache.
Because if he was just another flirt, she could have brushed it off. If he was like other guys, loud and persistent, she could have drawn a firm line.
But he wasn't.
He was patient, subtle.
And that scared her the most.
It was intimate. Too intimate.
And it was getting harder and harder to ignore.
He never crossed a boundary, never overwhelmed her.
And yet, his presence lingered.
Late at night, when she lay in bed, she found herself thinking about these moments—the bottle of water, the unexpected study session, the way he always made sure she ate, the way he never made her feel alone.
She tried to convince herself it was nothing. He was just kind. He was just looking out for her like a senior should. He probably did this for others, too.
But then there were moments like today—when she caught his eyes on her across the campus, his gaze steady but unreadable. When she found herself noticing the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up, the way his fingers flexed as he scrolled through his phone, the way he laughed with his friends so easily.
And suddenly, her heartbeat wasn't steady anymore.
She was falling into something she wasn't prepared for. Something warm and terrifying and entirely too real.
Kartikey was aware of Anshika's eyes on him more often these days. She thought she was subtle, but he noticed—every single time. The way her gaze flickered toward him in a crowded room, how she quickly looked away when their eyes met, the slight hesitation in her step whenever he came too close. She was hesitant, wary, and sometimes downright stubborn in keeping her distance, but he could see the cracks in her resistance.
He wasn't trying to overwhelm her. He knew she needed space, that pushing her would only make her retreat further. Instead, he let things unfold at their own pace.
He made sure to be there—offering help when she needed it even though she always hesitated, teasing her when she was too lost in her thoughts, standing close enough for her to feel his presence but never enough to make her run.
It was in the little things. The way he instinctively moved to the side of the road where traffic was heavier when they walked together. How he would pass her favorite chocolate bar in the cafeteria without a word, knowing she wouldn't ask for it herself. How he'd adjust the AC vent away from her side in the car, remembering how she always got cold easily.
Or the way her eyes softened when she thought he wasn't looking. He caught those fleeting moments—the way she would watch him from across the room, her brows furrowing slightly as if trying to make sense of something. Of him.
And then there was the blushing. Oh, she hated it. He could tell. The way a soft pink would creep up her cheeks when their hands brushed accidentally, when he leaned in just a little too close, when his teasing turned personal. She would always try to school her features into indifference, or she'd pretend to be annoyed when he teased her, but the warmth on her face gave her away every time.
She was fighting it, but he knew.
She felt something.
And that was all he needed to wait.
She wasn't unaffected. She just didn't know what to do with the feeling.
And that was fine.
Kartikey was patient. He wasn't in a hurry. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Anshika wasn't meant to be rushed. She would fight her own emotions before she even considered letting someone else in.
So, he wouldn't push.
He'd just be there—right at the edges of her world, close enough for her to notice, but never close enough to scare her away.
Because one day, she'd stop fighting it.
And when that day came, Kartikey would be right there, waiting.
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