It started small.
At first, she thought it was coincidence.
The way Veer would suddenly appear near the library when she stepped out of class. Or how he'd already be sitting on the stone bench under the gulmohar tree when she took her usual shortcut from the life science block. Once or twice, she caught his eyes before he looked away — too quickly, too stiffly.
Then there was the lab. He had no business being in her lab hour. Different year. Different timings.
And yet — she spotted him by the corridor, lingering near the notice board with a blank expression that never matched the frantic way his eyes searched the hallway. He didn't even pretend to be reading the posters anymore.
She ignored it. Brushed it off.
But her gut knew.
Something had changed.
At college, people started keeping their distance.
Boys she once studied with in the library gave her polite smiles but never approached her table anymore. One guy from her tutorial group who had borrowed her notes last semester barely nodded now. Someone had said something, or worse — someone had done something.
It wasn't hard to guess who.
She saw how Veer looked at people when they came near her — sharp, cold, unblinking. As if carving a threat out of silence. He didn't need to speak; his presence was enough.
And what made it worse — was that it worked.
He didn't even like her. He barely spoke to her.
Except for that strange interaction at the restaurant.
That one moment when something had passed between them — something nameless but terrifying.
She hated this. Hated how he made her feel watched. Hated how her heart sometimes betrayed her — fluttering like it had no pride at all. She hated the tension in her shoulders, the awareness on her skin. And most of all — she hated that she noticed him noticing her.
She tried telling herself: he's just a guy who is staring. That's it.
But her instincts said otherwise.
One Sunday afternoon, Anushka convinced her to go for a movie with Aaditya and her.
"It's Love Aaj Kal!" Anushka had squealed. "We're going for Deepika. Aaditya's going for Saif."
"And what am I going for?" Aaradhya had laughed.
"You're going for the popcorn and the slow-burn between you and Aaditya that I have to third-wheel every time."
Aaradhya had rolled her eyes. She liked how easy things felt with Aaditya — his quiet jokes, the gentleness in his tone, the way he never made her feel like she had to be anything but herself.
The theatre was half-full. They found a row somewhere in the middle. Anushka sat between them at first but five minutes in, she made an excuse about needing more space for her "giant tote bag" and swapped seats so that Aaradhya ended up next to Aaditya.
Halfway through the movie, their hands brushed on the shared armrest.
He didn't pull away.
During the intermission, Anushka nudged her. "You do know he's been looking at you since the trailers, right?"
"Shut up," Aaradhya mumbled, flushing.
"I mean, just confess already. Let me know so I can start planning the wedding menu. I have Pinterest boards for days."
Aaradhya rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.
And then, Aaditya turned to her.
"Aaradhya."
"Hmm?"
He looked a little unsure, like he was deciding whether or not to say something.
But he did. "If it ever gets... too much with college, or people saying things, you can talk to me, okay? I know something's been off lately."
The warmth turned to something else — a kind of protective pull. And she nodded, surprised by the sting of emotion behind her eyelids.
"Thanks," she whispered.
And from the corner of her eye — she saw Anushka silently mouthing 'HE LIKES YOU' with all the subtlety of a human megaphone.
She excused herself just before the second half started and walked toward the washrooms, the heavy music from the theatre fading behind her.
The hallway was empty. The yellow lights buzzed softly above, and the AC hummed from a vent overhead.
She had just pushed the washroom door open when she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned — and stopped breathing.
Veer.
He didn't belong here — not in this theatre, not in this moment, not in her world.
But he was here anyway.
Leaning against the wall near the gate of the washroom, arms folded across his chest, body relaxed but eyes locked on her like a fuse already lit.
Aaradhya's fingers tightened on the washroom door. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward.
One slow step at a time, until the space between them thinned to a breath. She backed up, but the wall came up behind her far too soon.
"Veer," she said, voice lower, tense. "This isn't—"
"You shouldn't talk to Aaditya so much."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
His hand came up — not roughly, but with quiet certainty — and he traced a single finger along the edge of her jaw. Light, fleeting. Her entire body stiffened.
"You should stay away from him," he said, his voice low and rough, like it cost him something to say it.
Her breath hitched. Her brain screamed to push him away, to shout, to break this intensity. But her body... her body betrayed her.
Because the soft trail his finger had left behind still burned. And not in fear.
In something far more dangerous.
"You don't get to tell me what to do," she managed, though it came out shakier than she'd have liked.
Veer leaned in slightly. Not touching her now, not quite — but close enough that she could feel the heat of him. Close enough that her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
"I see the way he looks at you," he murmured. "Like you're this calm he wants to rest in."
His hand brushed against hers now, fingers grazing — testing.
"And you?" she snapped, trying to regain some control. "What do you see me as?"
His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment. Her breath caught. She hated how her body noticed it. Hated how her pulse jumped.
"Mine," he said.
A single word. Not loud. But it thundered through her.
She inhaled sharply, trying to push past him. "You don't own me, Veer. You don't even know me."
His hand pressed lightly to the wall beside her head, boxing her in without touching her directly.
"I know that you shiver when you're near me," he said. "Even when you don't want to."
She did.
God, she hated that he was right.
"I know that your breath stumbles when I look at you like this."
She clenched her fists, tried to keep the flush off her face. "That's adrenaline," she lied. "It's instinct. You cornered me."
But then his fingers trailed down her arm — featherlight, maddening.
"I don't want to scare you," he said, voice softer now. "I just... I don't know how else to make you look at me."
She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe right. Every part of her screamed to resist — but her skin buzzed where he touched her, memory clinging like smoke.
Veer looked at her — not like the villain she kept convincing herself he was. Not like a boy playing games.
But like someone aching.
"I never wanted to be this person," he said, his voice cracking at the edge. "But when it comes to you... I don't know who else I'm allowed to be."
Something clenched inside her — a kind of ache she didn't have a name for.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
She turned abruptly, breaking the spell, her voice laced with steel. "Stay away from me, Veer."
And she walked into the washroom without looking back.
But even with the door closed behind her, her hands were still shaking.
And her lips still remembered the way his breath had brushed over them — close, far too close.
She then went back to the theatre after collecting her though and calming herself.