Max's POV
The corridor was empty, too quiet for the usual midday bustle. The clock ticked like thunder in the silence, echoing louder than my own thoughts. I stood there, arms crossed, staring at the corner from where Ram usually appeared. Not today.
He hadn't spoken to me since that night. Not a word. Not even a glance that lasted longer than a blink. He just… disappeared behind polite distance and cold silences. And it was killing me.
I looked up as I heard hurried footsteps—Ren stormed past me, her eyes filled with something I couldn't read. Not anger. Not sadness. Just… hollow. She didn't even look my way.
Kitty came next, looking worried as always, glancing between Ren and me, as if waiting for one of us to burst. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe properly.
Then Ram appeared.
He didn't look at me. Not directly. His eyes hovered around me, over me, but never into mine.
"Ram!" I finally called. My voice cracked, more desperate than I meant it to sound. "We need to talk."
He froze, shoulders tensing like a wall had been thrown up between us.
I walked closer. "Please… just tell me why you're ignoring me. Did I—did I make it awkward? Was it the kiss? I thought—"
"Stop." His voice was low. Not calm. Suppressed. Dangerous.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Then talk to me, Ram. Don't keep pretending like I don't exist."
He turned slowly, eyes burning—not with love. Not with warmth. But with something sharp and shattered.
"You want to know?" he asked, his voice rising. "You really want to know why I'm ignoring you?"
I nodded, confused, scared, and strangely hopeful.
"It's because that kiss… meant something to me," he hissed. "And I hate myself for it. Because to you, it probably meant nothing. Just lust, right? Just a mistake?"
"What are you talking about?" I whispered.
He laughed, bitter and broken. "How many times do I have to tell you—it was nothing more than lust, Max! That's all it was. That's all it ever should've been!"
The silence that followed shattered every piece of me.
I took a step back, air thinning around me. "Is that… really how you see me?"
He didn't answer. His silence was louder than his scream. My eyes welled up, but I refused to let the tears fall. Not now. Not in front of him.
Behind us, Ren watched. Her jaw was clenched, arms folded, and pain flickered in her gaze—not just from what she saw, but from something else.
She finally spoke. "You guys left me out. Of the bunk. Of the truth. Of everything. And now you're all falling apart like it was never worth it."
None of us had the strength to reply.
....
Ram's POV: (The things I couldn't say..)
I walked away before I broke more than I already had. My steps were uneven, driven by rage, guilt, and a gnawing ache in my chest. But even in my fury, her eyes followed me—those eyes I used to find peace in. Now, they just made me feel like the villain in her story.
I didn't mean to yell at her like that.
But I did.
Because her silence killed me.
Because her confusion killed me.
Because I knew… deep down, I had no right to feel this broken.
I leaned against the back wall of the empty stairwell and closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Max…" I whispered into the void.
But sorry wouldn't change what her mother said to me that night.
"Don't you dare mess with my daughter's life. If you really care for her, you'll stay away. She has a future. You'll only ruin it."
And what was I supposed to do?
Go against her mom's warning? Watch Max get sent to her aunt abroad and vanish from my life forever?
I can't lose her—not again.
So, I did the only thing I could. I distanced myself. I made her hate me. If she hated me, maybe she could move on. Maybe she wouldn't care if I faded into the background of her life.
But that kiss… God, that kiss.
It wasn't lust.
It was everything.
The way she trembled against me, the way her fingers clawed into my back, the way her breath mixed with mine—it wasn't just a kiss. It was a collapse of everything I kept buried for years. And it was too good to be real.
Now, I stood here breaking in silence while she probably sat somewhere thinking I used her. That it was the saree. The mood. The moment.
It wasn't.
It was her. Just her.
If only I could tell her. If only I could say, You're the only person who ever made me believe in love again.
But instead, I gave her pain.
I sat down, head in my hands, and let the silence punish me. Maybe it was better this way.
Maybe some love stories are better left unspoken.
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