Sleep didn't come easily that night.
Aarohi lay on her side, staring at the faint cracks in the ceiling. The fan above spun lazily, its soft hum doing nothing to quiet the restlessness in her chest. Dim light from the streetlamp outside slipped through the curtains, stretching long shadows across the walls.
She turned slightly, pulling the blanket closer.
"In a few days… you won't be able to forget me."
The words echoed again.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… certain.
She let out a sharp breath and rolled onto her back.
"Arrogant," she muttered.
That had to be it.
Just another overconfident stranger who liked the sound of his own voice. Someone who said things like they meant more than they actually did.
People like that were everywhere.
And yet—
Her fingers curled into the bedsheet.
It hadn't felt like arrogance.
It had felt like a promise.
Her eyes drifted shut, but his image followed anyway.
The way he stood in the corridor.
The way he looked at her—not searching, not curious… just steady.
Like he had already decided something.
Aarohi turned again, burying her face into the pillow.
"This is ridiculous," she whispered.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.
---
Morning came too fast.
The campus moved in its usual rhythm—students walking in groups, laughter echoing along the pathways, the familiar smell of chai drifting from the canteen.
Everything looked normal.
Aarohi adjusted her bag as she headed toward her classroom, her expression calm, her steps steady.
She had made a decision.
She wasn't going to think about him.
Not today.
Not again.
It had been a moment. Strange, maybe—but still just a moment.
Nothing more.
By the time she reached the classroom, some of the tension had eased.
Inside, the low hum of conversation filled the space. Aanya was already there, leaning back in her chair, talking animatedly.
"Aarohi!" she called the second she saw her. "Finally. I thought you skipped today."
Aarohi slid into the seat beside her. "I considered it."
Aanya grinned. "Wow. Must've been a rough night."
Aarohi shrugged lightly. "Couldn't sleep."
"Thinking about the event?" Aanya teased, wiggling her eyebrows. "Or someone from the event?"
Aarohi gave her a look. "You imagine too much."
"Please," Aanya leaned closer, lowering her voice, "half the girls there were busy noticing someone. Don't tell me you didn't see at least one interesting face."
Aarohi didn't answer right away.
Her fingers brushed the edge of her notebook.
"I didn't," she said finally, her voice steady.
Aanya watched her for a second, then smirked. "Liar."
Before Aarohi could respond, the professor entered, adjusting his glasses as he set his notes down.
The room quieted almost instantly.
Chairs shifted.
Voices faded.
The lecture began.
Aarohi focused.
Or at least, she tried to.
Her pen moved across the page as she copied notes, her eyes fixed on the board.
Normal.
This was normal.
And for a while, it worked.
Until—
The door opened.
Not loudly.
Not enough to interrupt the lecture completely.
But enough.
A subtle ripple passed through the room. A few students turned. Soft whispers rose near the back.
Aarohi didn't look up.
She kept writing.
It didn't matter.
Just someone late.
Nothing to do with her.
And yet—
That feeling returned.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Unwelcome.
Her grip on the pen tightened.
Slowly, almost against her own will, she lifted her gaze.
And everything stilled.
Him.
Standing near the door like he had always belonged there.
Like this wasn't new.
Like this wasn't unexpected.
He didn't scan the room like others would. Didn't hesitate under the professor's glance.
He just stood there—
And then his eyes found hers.
Instantly.
Directly.
Like he had been looking for only one thing.
Her breath caught again.
This time quieter.
But just as real.
There was no surprise in his expression.
Not even a flicker.
Just that same calm, unwavering focus.
As if this moment—this room, her being here—had already been planned.
The professor gestured toward the empty seats. "Take a seat."
He gave a small nod.
And then he started walking.
Not toward the back.
Not toward the empty rows.
Toward her.
Each step was slow.
Deliberate.
The distance between them closed too quickly.
Aarohi lowered her gaze to her notebook, but it didn't help.
She could feel it.
Him.
Closer.
Too close.
The chair beside her shifted with a faint scrape.
He sat down.
Right next to her.
Not across.
Not a seat away.
Beside her.
Aanya glanced between them, clearly noticing, but said nothing—just raised her brows slightly before turning back to the front.
Aarohi stayed still.
Didn't look at him.
Her pen hovered over the page, unmoving.
The air felt… different.
He didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
The silence between them stretched, heavy and deliberate.
She tried to focus again.
On the lecture.
On the professor's voice.
On the words written on the board.
But nothing stayed.
Because every second—
She was aware of him.
The faint, clean scent around him.
The quiet rhythm of his breathing.
The way he didn't fidget, didn't shift, didn't blend into the room like everyone else.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe less.
Time felt strange.
And then—
Without turning, without warning—
He leaned slightly closer.
Just enough.
Close enough that his voice barely needed sound.
"Told you…" he murmured.
Her fingers froze.
A pause.
Barely a heartbeat.
And then—
"You wouldn't forget me."