(Author POV)
The air in the college campus had started to shift. It wasn’t just the gentle breeze of late spring mornings, nor the warmth in the afternoons that hinted at the approaching summer. It was something else, something invisible yet unmistakably present — the kind of tension that hummed between two hearts learning the rhythm of one another without either of them daring to call it what it was.
Kabir and Rhea had settled into a pattern neither of them fully acknowledged. A pattern of lingering glances, teasing remarks, unexpected phone calls, and late-night messages that carried more emotion than either of them could admit aloud.
That morning, as Rhea walked into her classroom, she instantly spotted Kabir leaning back on his chair, one leg stretched out lazily, his usual cocky grin painted on his face.
“Look who’s almost late, yet again,” Kabir called out as she crossed the threshold.
“I wasn’t late,” Rhea countered, making a face. “Two minutes don’t count.”
Kabir smirked. “Two minutes with me could change your life, Sharma.”
Rhea’s cheeks flushed before she rolled her eyes, tossing a pen cap at him as she slid into the seat beside him.
“I’d rather risk it with Aryan,” she quipped, not expecting the way Kabir’s smirk faltered for half a second before recovering.
“Ouch,” he said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “You wound me.”
But his playful facade cracked just a little when Aryan, as if summoned by the mention of his name, sauntered in and waved at Rhea.
“Hey, Rhea. Wanna grab some coffee after class?”
Before Rhea could respond, Kabir leaned in, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. “Sorry, bro. She’s already promised to help me with a project.”
Rhea blinked, staring at him in surprise. “Since when?”
“Since right now,” Kabir murmured with a tiny smirk.
Aryan chuckled. “Guess I missed my shot. Next time, Sharma.”
Rhea shot Kabir a glare once Aryan moved away. “What was that?”
“Rescuing you,” Kabir replied innocently. “You should thank me.”
“I can handle myself, Malhotra.”
“Not denying that,” Kabir leaned in, voice low, “but I’m not gonna let him steal my partner-in-crime.”
Rhea’s heart did an unexpected somersault, but she masked it with a roll of her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
He winked. “And yet, you love it.”
---
The lecture was dull, the professor’s voice was a monotone drone that filled the room like white noise. Kabir, naturally, didn’t care. He spent most of it scribbling notes in the margins of his notebook — not of the lecture, but of witty one-liners and dramatic stick figure drawings that he kept shoving toward Rhea.
‘Save me from death by boredom,’ one note read.
‘Plotting your downfall as we speak,’ she scribbled back.
He grinned and sent another. ‘You love me.’
She shot him with a wide-eyed look and scrawled back. ‘In your dreams.’
Kabir’s smile softened.
It was these moments — silent, wordless, made of glances and scribbled notes — that meant everything and nothing at the same time.
---
After class, they headed to the canteen as usual, joining their group of friends. The table was lively, filled with jokes, gossip, and loud laughter.
Kabir, however, had one eye on Rhea the whole time.
And when Aryan joined them, sitting beside Rhea and leaning in a little too close as he showed her a meme on his phone, Kabir’s jaw tightened.
Rhea noticed.
“Want something?” she asked Kabir.
He shook his head. “Nah, just wondering how someone like Aryan manages to pass exams.”
Aryan looked up. “Got a problem, Malhotra?”
“Not yet,” Kabir replied coolly, and the table fell into an awkward silence for a heartbeat before a friend cracked a joke to lighten the mood.
Rhea kicked Kabir under the table. “Stop being a drama queen.”
He shrugged. “Just protective of my favorite nerd.”
And just like that, the tension slipped into something softer.
---
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the campus glowed in the soft amber of streetlights. Kabir and Rhea strolled towards the tiny street cart outside the campus gate, where a small crowd gathered for the evening’s ultimate snack — panipuri.
“I bet you can’t handle the extra spicy one,” Kabir challenged, nudging her shoulder as they approached the vendor.
Rhea raised a brow. “Please. I was born for this.”
“Oh yeah?” Kabir grinned, folding his arms. “Losers pay for the other’s panipuri for a week.”
“You’re on.”
The vendor handed them plates loaded with crispy, water-filled delights. Kabir shot her a cocky look as he downed the first one effortlessly.
Rhea followed, barely flinching. “Child’s play.”
By the third round, the spice level had escalated. Rhea’s eyes watered slightly, but she refused to let him see her falter.
Kabir wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “I swear this guy’s trying to kill us.”
“Backing’ out, Malhotra?” she teased, popping another puri into her mouth.
He laughed. “Never.”
They kept going, and by the fifth, Kabir coughed, his eyes watering. Rhea grinned in triumph.
“Face it — you lost.”
Kabir held up a hand in surrender. “Fine. Fine. You win, Sharma.”
She smirked, wiping her fingers. “Told you.”
But instead of feeling defeated, Kabir looked at her in a way that made her pulse skip — a soft, unguarded smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?”
Rhea shrugged, feeling her cheeks warm. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
And for a moment, as the night air buzzed around them, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, standing by a street cart, hearts a little lighter, connection a little deeper.
---
That night, as Rhea lay in bed scrolling through Instagram, a DM from Kabir popped up.
Kabir:
You alive?
Rhea:
Barely.
Kabir:
Okay, Champion Sharma… let’s play something.
Rhea:
What now? You already lost in panipuri.
Kabir:
Not a challenge. Truth or dare. DM edition.
Rhea:
Game on, Malhotra. Truth.
Kabir:
Who’s the last person you thought about before sleeping last night?
Rhea bit her lip, grinning.
Rhea:
Wouldn’t you like to know?
Kabir:
Rules are rules, Sharma.
She sighed dramatically.
Rhea:
Fine… it was you.
Kabir sent a winking emoji.
Kabir:
Good. That makes two of us.
Her heart did a weird little flip again.
Rhea:
Your turn. Truth or dare?
Kabir:
Truth.
Rhea:
Have you ever liked someone in college?
He replied almost instantly.
Kabir:
Yeah. She’s stubborn, competitive, has an attitude problem… and is annoyingly cute.
Rhea:
Sounds like a lot of work. Who’s the poor girl?
Kabir:
DM her this right now.
A second message followed — a poem.
Kabir:
“Kuch log sirf milne ke liye nahi hote,
Woh zindagi bhar yaadon mein rehte hain,
Tere bina bhi lagta hai tu paas hai,
Bas naam lene ki der hai, dil mere haathon se fisal jata hai.”
Rhea’s cheeks burned. She didn’t reply immediately, unsure how to.
Kabir:
Your turn.
Rhea:
Dare.
Kabir:
Post a story saying ‘Some people feel like home.’
Rhea:
Coward. Not tagging you, though.
Kabir:
Didn’t ask you to. I’ll know it’s for me.
Rhea laughed softly to herself, shaking her head at her screen.
Rhea:
Goodnight, troublemaker.
Kabir:
Sweet dreams, panipuri queen.
And just like that — they both slept with tiny smiles on their faces, hearts a little lighter, and feelings a little deeper, neither confessing… but both knowing that they love each other.
---
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