Kavya's pov
The day feels longer than usual.
I reach early. Too early.
I don't even remember deciding to come this soon. It just… happens.
Now I sit there, my head resting on the table, my fingers tracing random patterns on its surface. The classroom is still half empty, filled with faint voices and the sound of chairs moving.
But none of it matters.
I wait. For him!
The small box of cookies sits inside my bag, along with the letter I spent half the night making. I check it again and again just to make sure it's still there… still okay.
What if it's not enough?
What if he doesn't even take it?
What if- I shut my eyes tightly.
Stop. This isn't helping.
Time passes. Slowly.
Every sound near the door makes me lift my head slightly… only to drop it again when it's not him.
I let out a quiet breath, my forehead pressing against my folded arms.
Why is this so hard?
And then, the chair beside me moves.
My body stiffens instantly.
I don't need to look.
I know.
He's here.
For a moment, I stay like that… frozen, my heart beating faster than it should.
Then slowly, I lift my head.
He's already sitting beside me.
Just like that.
As if nothing ever happened.
And suddenly… every word I prepared disappears.
My throat feels dry.
My hands don't know what to do.
And for the first time in a while—
I feel embarrassed.
Not the light kind.
The kind that makes me want to disappear.
I quickly look away, pretending to adjust something in my bag, even though I'm not really doing anything.
The cookies. The letter.
They're right there. Waiting.
Just like me.
But now that he's actually here…
I don't know how to begin.
I don't know why… but somehow, I gather the courage.
Before I can overthink it again, I pull the box of cookies out of my bag along with the letter.
My hands feel slightly shaky.
I take a deep breath.
Just do it.
Slowly, I push the cookie box and the letter toward him, my fingers brushing lightly against the table as they slide across.
My heart is pounding.
My voice comes out small.
"…sorry."
The moment the word leaves my lips, I regret it.
He turns slightly, noticing the movement, his eyes shifting toward the box… toward the letter… toward me.
And suddenly— I panic.
Without thinking, I drop my head onto the table with a soft thud.
I don't dare to lift it again.
Not now. Not when he's right there. Not when he's looking.
My face burns with embarrassment, and I stay completely still, as if that might somehow make me invisible.
I can feel everything.
The silence. His presence. The space between us.
And I just lie there… waiting.
The next moment I register is the sound.
A light tapping… then the soft crinkle of paper… and chewing.
I stay frozen at first, still buried in embarrassment, my head pressed against the table. But then I hear it again.
A little louder this time.
A faint laugh.
It pulls me out of my thoughts.
Slowly, hesitantly, I lift my head to see what's going on.
And then
I freeze.
He's sitting there.
Eating the cookies.
Reading my letter.
And laughing?
My eyes widen in disbelief.
Is he serious right now?
For a second, I just stare at him, trying to process what I'm seeing.
Did I… write something wrong?
Was there a joke in it?
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap, my embarrassment instantly turning into irritation. "I wrote an apology, not something funny."
He looks up at me, still holding the letter, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"So," he says casually, "you can speak like that…"
I frown. "What?"
"But the moment it comes to apologising properly, you hide your face on the table."
I go silent.
His words hit.
And the worst part?
Somewhere, I know he's right.
I look away for a second, my fingers tightening slightly.
"…So, what do you want me to do?" I ask, quieter this time.
He leans back a little, thinking.
"I might've let it go," he says, "if you had just apologised properly. Face to face."
My heart sinks slightly.
"But since you didn't…" he pauses, glancing at me, "you should be punished."
Punished?
My mind blanks for a second.
Is that even normal?
But before I can overthink it
"Okay," I say quickly. "I'll take it."
The words leave my mouth before I fully process them.
"What do you want me to do?"
He looks at me, slightly surprised.
Then a small smile appears again.
"I haven't thought about it yet," he says, shrugging. "I'll tell you when I do."
I blink.
That's it?
That's somehow… worse.
He watches me, a little amused.
"What's the problem now?" he asks.
I frown slightly. "So… you've forgiven me?"
He raises an eyebrow.
"Isn't it obvious?"
I hesitate.
"But I did something I shouldn't have," I say quietly.
He shrugs, almost casually. "Oh, that's fine. I've faced worse."
His words are simple.
Too simple.
Like they don't carry the weight I'm still holding onto.
Maybe it's normal for him.
Maybe he's used to it.
But I'm not.
The guilt is still there… sitting heavy inside me, refusing to leave.
Before I can say anything else, the classroom shifts.
The teacher walks in.
Chairs straighten. Voices fade. The moment breaks.
I look away, quickly adjusting myself.
Now isn't the time.
Even if I still feel embarrassed… even if I still want to say more
I don't have time for it.