It started small.
A laugh too long. A glance held a second too many. A smile that slipped past their masks when it shouldn't have.
For weeks, Ananya and Riyan had lived inside their cocoon of stolen moments, believing the world blind to them. But the world was never blind. It simply waited for cracks.
And now, the cracks had begun to show.
The Murmur Begins
One morning in the classroom, when Ananya passed Riyan a folded scrap of paper beneath her open textbook, she caught the faintest shift of eyes from the row behind her.
She didn't look back. She didn't dare.
But later, she heard it—two girls whispering near the washbasin.
"Did you see…?""Maybe it's nothing.""No one smiles like that at nothing."
Her stomach twisted.
By the time she returned to her desk, Riyan's jaw was tight, his gaze sharp, as if he'd heard too. He didn't speak, but when his fingers brushed hers under the desk, she knew they both felt it: the thin line of their secret beginning to fray.
Glances, Giggles, Questions
The whispers grew.
Sometimes it was laughter that broke off too quickly when she walked past. Sometimes it was the pointed way someone asked, "Ananya, do you need help carrying your books to the library? Or will he help?"
She bit her tongue. She learned to smile, to pretend confusion, to play dumb. But each word cut deeper than she let show.
Kabir warned them first. He leaned over Riyan's desk one afternoon, voice pitched low.
"They're watching. Maybe not everyone, but enough. You need to be careful."
"Careful is all we've been," Riyan muttered. But his hand curled into a fist, knuckles white.
Kabir didn't argue. He only glanced at Ananya with something like pity before slipping away.
The Net Tightens
Rumors don't stay whispers for long.
A week later, Ananya's cousin—always prowling at the edges—asked a question that froze her blood.
"So… you've been staying back in the library often?" His tone was casual, too casual.
She forced a smile. "Exams. You know."
He hummed, staring at her too long, and she knew. He had heard something.
That night, she sat on her bed with her letters hidden under the mattress, her pulse racing. If he searched, if he found even one—everything would burn.
Riyan's Anger
When she told Riyan the next day, his fury was barely contained.
"They don't get to watch you like prey," he spat, pacing the deserted stairwell. "They don't get to sniff around your life like dogs."
"Riyan—" she reached for him.
He turned, eyes blazing. "I'll end it before they ruin you."
"No!" Her voice cracked sharper than she meant. "You can't. If you fight them, it proves the rumors true. You know it does."
The silence after was thick, his breathing ragged. At last, he pressed his forehead against hers, trembling with restraint.
"I can't stand them tearing at you," he whispered."Then don't let them see it," she whispered back. "Don't let them win."
The Dread of Waiting
Days passed with their secret pressed tighter under watchful eyes. Meetings grew shorter, letters more carefully disguised. Every stolen touch felt like it burned under invisible gazes.
And yet, neither could stop.
The more the whispers curled around them, the more they clung to the dangerous comfort of each other.
One night, alone in her room, Ananya pressed his latest note to her lips. His words bled into her skin:
"Even if the world knows, even if they tear us apart—I won't stop."
She should have been afraid. But instead, her heart roared with reckless defiance.
Because maybe the whispers weren't lies. Maybe they were the first cracks in a dam that was always meant to break.
The storm had not yet hit. But the wind had shifted. And she could feel it in her bones: the walls would not hold much longer.