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CHAPTER ONE

Five Minutes Late

MEERA

If there was one relationship in my life that had survived every fight, every betrayal, and every attempt at separation, it was the toxic relationship between me and my bed.

Every night, I promised myself I would leave it early the next morning.

Every morning, I went crawling right back into its arms.

Today was no different.

My room was quiet except for the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional sound of vehicles passing outside our house. Pale morning sunlight had slipped through the tiny gap between my curtains and stretched across the floor in a thin golden line.

It was a beautiful morning.

Probably.

I wouldn't know.

I was unconscious.

My phone lay face-down on the bedside table after losing a battle it had been fighting alone for the last forty minutes.

Six alarms.

Six snoozes.

Zero effect.

The seventh alarm began ringing at 7:42 a.m.

I frowned in my sleep.

My hand emerged slowly from beneath the blanket and wandered blindly across the mattress.

Nothing.

The alarm continued.

I stretched farther.

My fingers hit the bedside lamp.

Then a book.

Then my water bottle.

The bottle fell to the floor with a loud thud.

I didn't open my eyes.

Eventually, my fingertips found the phone.

I pressed something.

Silence.

Peace returned to the universe.

I pulled my hand beneath the blanket again and curled onto my side.

This was happiness.

Unfortunately, my mother had other plans for my happiness.

"Meera!"

Maa's voice came from somewhere outside my room, sharp enough to penetrate the door, my blanket, and whatever dream I had been having.

I frowned and pulled the blanket over my ear.

Maybe she was calling some other Meera.

There were millions of people in India.

Statistically, there had to be another one nearby.

"Meera, uth jao! Kitni der sona hai?"

Maa called again from the hallway, her voice carrying the familiar mixture of irritation and disbelief that appeared almost every morning.

"Meera, wake up! How long are you planning to sleep?"

I pressed my face into the pillow.

"Paanch minute, Maa..."

I mumbled into the pillow, my words so muffled that even I could barely understand them.

"Five minutes, Mom..."

The footsteps outside stopped.

That should have warned me.

My bedroom door opened.

I still refused to move.

Maa walked inside.

I could hear the soft clinking of her bangles as she crossed the room.

Then

Whoosh.

The curtains flew open.

Sunlight attacked me.

"Maaaa!"

I groaned dramatically, squeezing my eyes shut and dragging the blanket over my face.

Maa stood beside the window with one hand still holding the curtain, completely unaffected by my suffering.

"Paanch minute bolte-bolte bees minute ho gaye hain, madam," she informed me dryly, placing her other hand on her waist.

"Your 'five minutes' have already turned into twenty minutes, madam."

Twenty?

My sleepy brain caught the number.

It floated around for a second before connecting with something important.

University.

Monday.

Class.

I opened one eye.

"What time is it?" I asked hoarsely, finally pushing the blanket away from my face.

Maa looked at me with the expression mothers reserved for questions whose answers they believed their children should already know.

"Khud dekh lo," she replied, pointing toward my phone.

"See for yourself."

I reached for it.

7:58.

I stared at the screen.

That wasn't terrible.

My first class was at nine.

I had time.

Technically.

If I showered in seven minutes, got dressed in five, skipped breakfast, found an auto immediately, encountered no traffic, and perhaps discovered teleportation somewhere along the way.

I dropped my head back onto the pillow.

"I'm fine," I murmured, closing my eyes again.

Maa's expression changed instantly.

"Meera."

Just my name.

Nothing else.

But I knew that tone.

Every Indian child knew that tone.

I opened my eyes again.

"I am getting up," I assured her quickly, lifting both hands in surrender.

Maa narrowed her eyes.

"Abhi," she ordered firmly.

"Now."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied with a sleepy salute.

Maa tried not to smile.

Tried.

Failed slightly.

"Drama kam karo aur neeche aao. Nashta thanda ho raha hai," she said as she turned toward the door.

"Stop the drama and come downstairs. Your breakfast is getting cold."

"I don't have time for breakfast," I called after her while finally sitting up.

Maa stopped at the doorway.

She slowly turned her head.

I immediately regretted the sentence.

"Accha?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Really?"

I swallowed.

There were certain arguments worth having.

This wasn't one of them.

"I'll eat quickly," I corrected myself in a much softer voice.

"Good," Maa replied with satisfaction before leaving the room.

The door remained open behind her.

I sat there for another three seconds.

Then my phone vibrated.

SANA: Please tell me you're awake.

I stared at the message.

Then at the time.

8:01.

I typed:

ME: Obviously.

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

SANA: Send selfie.

I frowned.

ME: Why?

SANA: Because I don't trust you.

I looked down at myself.

Messy hair.

One cheek creased from the pillow.

Oversized T-shirt.

Blanket still covering half my legs.

Absolutely not.

ME: Have some faith in people.

Her reply came within seconds.

SANA: You're still in bed.

I threw my phone aside.

"Why does nobody trust me in this world?" I complained aloud while climbing out of bed.

My foot landed on something.

Crunch.

I froze.

Slowly, I looked down.

An empty chips packet.

I stared at it.

Then toward the ceiling.

Right.

I'd been studying last night.

Studying always made me hungry.

Hunger had led to chips.

Chips had somehow led to chocolate.

Chocolate had led to one episode of a show.

One episode had somehow become three.

The mystery of why I couldn't wake up suddenly solved itself.

I picked up the packet and threw it toward the dustbin.

It missed.

Of course it did.

My room wasn't exactly dirty.

It was lived in.

Very enthusiastically lived in.

Three textbooks were stacked beside my pillow because I had convinced myself reading in bed would make studying more comfortable.

It had.

For approximately eleven minutes.

Then I had fallen asleep on Principles of Molecular Biology.

My desk was covered in notes, highlighters, sticky notes, two empty coffee mugs and a tiny cactus Riya had gifted me with strict instructions not to kill it.

The cactus had survived.

Mostly because it required almost nothing from me.

We understood each other.

I grabbed my towel and hurried toward the bathroom.

By 8:19, I was standing in front of my wardrobe with wet hair dripping down my back.

"Blue or white?"

I held up two kurtas.

Nobody answered.

Naturally.

"Blue," I decided.

Then I looked at the white one.

"Maybe white."

I looked at the clock.

8:20.

"Blue."

Decision made.

I pulled on the pale-blue kurta with white trousers, quickly ran a brush through my damp hair and immediately regretted it when the brush got caught.

"Ow-ow-ow."

I carefully freed it.

My hair had never understood cooperation.

Eventually, I tied it into a loose ponytail, leaving two stubborn strands near my face because they had clearly decided to live independently.

I applied kajal.

Then searched for my lip balm.

Nothing.

I checked the dressing table.

Nothing.

The drawer.

Nothing.

My bag.

Nothing.

I crouched and looked beneath the bed.

One slipper.

A pen.

Three hair ties.

A chocolate wrapper.

My university ID.

I froze.

"Oh."

I reached underneath and pulled the card out.

At least the lip balm crisis had achieved something useful.

I stood up.

"Meera!"

A different voice called from downstairs.

I immediately recognized it.

Riya.

My older sister.

My married older sister, who was currently staying with us for a few days because her husband had gone out of town for work.

I smiled automatically.

Having Riya home was both wonderful and deeply irritating.

Wonderful because I missed her whenever she wasn't here.

Irritating because she considered embarrassing me one of her fundamental rights.

"Coming!" I shouted while stuffing my ID into my bag.

"Jhooth mat bolo! Mujhe pata hai tum abhi bhi room mein ho!"

Riya shouted back from downstairs, amusement obvious in her voice.

"Don't lie! I know you're still in your room!"

I stopped.

How?

Were there cameras in this house?

I grabbed my notebook, charger and wallet.

Then rushed toward the stairs.

Halfway down, I remembered my phone.

I stopped.

Closed my eyes.

Turned around.

Ran back.

My phone was on my bed.

When I returned downstairs, Riya was sitting at the dining table, sipping tea with the irritating peacefulness of someone who didn't have a nine o'clock lecture.

Her hair was tied neatly behind her head, and she wore one of Maa's old cotton kurtas.

She looked comfortable.

Rested.

Happy.

I disliked her immediately.

She looked up at me.

Then at the clock.

Then back at me.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Riya greeted me with a wide, teasing smile.

"Don't," I warned her, pointing one finger in her direction as I hurried toward the table.

Riya's smile widened.

"Maine toh kuch kaha hi nahi," she replied innocently, lifting both hands.

"I didn't even say anything."

"Your face said it," I muttered while dropping into the chair beside her.

Papa sat opposite us, already dressed for work in a crisp shirt, reading something on his tablet.

He lowered it slightly and looked at me over the frame of his glasses.

"Good morning," Papa greeted me calmly.

"Good morning, Papa," I replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek before reaching immediately for the toast.

Papa glanced at the clock.

I saw it.

"Please don't," I requested with my mouth half-full.

Papa's lips twitched.

"I didn't say anything," he replied.

"Again. Faces," I complained, pointing between him and Riya. "Everyone in this family has very expressive faces."

Riya almost choked on her tea.

Maa walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate.

"Ye baat tum dusre ke liye keh rhi ho?" she asked incredulously as she placed a paratha in front of me.

"Are you seriously saying that about other people?"

I looked at the paratha.

Then at the clock.

Then at Maa.

"Maa..."

"Half," she said firmly, tearing the paratha in two before I could protest.

I sighed.

"Fine."

Riya watched me take the first bite.

"Waise, aaj new professor aa raha hai na?" she asked casually, resting her chin on one hand.

"By the way, isn't your new professor starting today?"

My eyes moved toward her.

"How do you know that?"

Riya shrugged.

"You were complaining about him yesterday."

"I wasn't complaining about him," I corrected her. "I was complaining about the rumours about him."

Riya leaned closer with immediate interest.

"What rumours?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

I narrowed mine.

"No."

"What?"

"I know that face."

"What face?"

"The married-woman-who-is-bored-and-wants-gossip face."

Riya gasped theatrically.

Papa hid a smile behind his cup.

"Main sirf concerned sister hoon," Riya replied, pressing one hand dramatically to her chest.

"I'm simply a concerned sister."

"You're never concerned."

"Rude."

Maa placed my lunchbox beside my bag.

"Professor strict hai toh achhi baat hai," she commented matter-of-factly.

"If the professor is strict, that's a good thing."

My chewing slowed.

I looked at her.

"How is that good for me?"

"Shayad tum time pe pahunchna seekh jaogi," Maa replied, giving me a pointed look.

"Maybe you'll finally learn to arrive on time."

Three people smiled.

I stared around the table.

"This feels like bullying."

Papa finally laughed.

"Finish breakfast," he told me gently.

I took another bite.

Despite my dramatic suffering, mornings like these were my favourite.

The sunlight coming through the dining-room window.

Maa moving between the kitchen and table even after everyone repeatedly told her to sit.

Papa pretending to read while listening to every conversation.

Riya stealing from my plate even though she had already eaten.

Normal things.

Small things.

Things I rarely stopped long enough to appreciate.

Riya reached for the crispy corner of my paratha.

I slapped her fingers.

"Don't."

She tried again.

I moved the plate.

"Tumhari shaadi ho chuki hai. Apne husband ka khana churao," I told her seriously.

"You're married now. Go steal your husband's food."

Riya stared at me for a second before laughing.

"Woh yahan hai hi nahi," she protested.

"He's not even here."

"Exactly. Long-distance theft. Be innovative."

Papa shook his head.

Maa smiled.

My phone buzzed again.

8:31.

My eyes widened.

"Oh God."

I shoved the last bite into my mouth and stood.

Maa immediately picked up the lunchbox.

"Bag kholo," she instructed.

"Open your bag."

"Maa, canteen...."

Maa simply looked at me.

I opened my bag.

She placed the lunchbox inside.

"Poora khana," she said sternly.

"Finish all of it."

"Yes, Maa," I replied obediently.

I kissed her cheek.

Then Papa's.

Riya opened her arms.

I stared at her.

"No."

"Come here."

"No."

"I'll tell everyone you sleep with that ugly rabbit."

My eyes widened.

"You wouldn't."

Riya smiled.

I immediately hugged her.

"You're evil," I whispered near her ear.

"I missed you too," she whispered back, laughing softly as she squeezed me once.

And annoyingly, despite everything, I smiled.

By the time I reached university, the sky had changed.

The bright morning sunshine had disappeared behind thick grey clouds, and a cool breeze moved through the tall trees lining the campus roads.

The ground still carried traces of last night's rain.

Wet leaves stuck to the pavement.

Tiny droplets clung to the hedges.

The air smelled of damp soil, coffee from the small stall near the gate, and that strange mixture of old paper and rain that always seemed to surround university buildings during monsoon season.

I loved weather like this.

I would have loved it significantly more if I wasn't late.

8:57.

I stepped out of the auto.

The science building stood far too far away.

"No."

I looked at my sandals.

Then at the building.

"Today we run."

I started walking quickly.

Then faster.

Then actually running.

My bag bounced against my side.

A group of students near the lawn turned toward me.

I ignored them.

There was dignity.

And there was attendance.

Today, attendance won.

My phone buzzed.

SANA: He's here.

I kept moving.

SANA: And he looks strict.

Another vibration.

SANA: Like STRICT strict.

I didn't reply.

Mostly because I was busy trying not to die.

The science block finally appeared in front of me.

I rushed through the entrance.

Up the stairs.

Down the corridor.

Room 204.

The corridor outside was empty.

That was never a good sign.

I stopped outside the closed classroom door and looked at the time.

9:04.

Four minutes.

Only four.

That wasn't late.

That was slightly delayed.

Academically delayed.

I inhaled deeply.

Fixed my ponytail.

Pulled my kurta straight.

Tried to slow my breathing.

Then opened the door.

The room went quiet.

Not gradually.

Immediately.

My fingers remained around the door handle.

Forty-something faces turned toward me.

Sana sat in the third row.

Her eyes widened.

Then she slowly closed them as if she had already begun praying for my soul.

My gaze moved toward the front.

And there he was.

Dr. Aarav Malhotra.

For some reason, I had expected someone older.

Much older.

Maybe because the rumours about him made him sound like a fifty-year-old man who spent his free time rejecting assignment extensions.

He wasn't.

He looked somewhere around his late twenties.

Tall.

Straight-backed.

White shirt.

Dark trousers.

Black watch.

The sleeves of his shirt were folded neatly to his forearms, and a pair of thin-framed glasses sat on his face.

He wasn't smiling.

Not that professors were required to smile.

But still.

A little warmth wouldn't kill anyone.

His marker had stopped halfway across the board.

His eyes were on me.

I suddenly became painfully aware that I was breathing too loudly.

"Good morning, sir," I greeted him breathlessly, trying to offer a polite smile.

Aarav's expression did not change.

His eyes moved from my face to the clock above the door.

Then back to me.

"You're late," he stated quietly, his tone flat rather than angry.

That was somehow worse.

"Sorry, sir," I apologized, my smile disappearing as I tightened my grip on my bag strap.

He glanced at the attendance sheet on his desk.

"Name?" he asked briefly.

"Meera Sharma, sir," I answered, trying to catch my breath without making it obvious.

His pen moved across the sheet.

He didn't look at me again.

"Take your seat, Ms. Sharma," Aarav instructed in the same controlled tone before turning back toward the board.

That was it.

No argument.

No dramatic introduction.

No conversation.

Just dismissal.

I should have been relieved.

Instead, for some reason, I felt like I had just been silently classified under problematic student.

I walked toward Sana.

As I passed the second row, my bag hit the corner of a desk.

A metal water bottle toppled.

CLANG.

The sound echoed through the entire classroom.

I froze.

Of course.

Of course this would happen.

A boy quickly caught the bottle before it rolled away.

"Sorry," I whispered apologetically to him, my cheeks warming.

At the front, Aarav stopped writing.

He didn't turn around immediately.

His shoulders went still for a second.

Then he slowly looked over his shoulder.

His eyes landed on me.

I gave him the smallest apologetic smile possible.

He said nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He simply looked at me for one second longer than necessary before turning back to the board.

Somehow, that was worse than being scolded.

I finally reached my seat.

Sana moved her notebook aside.

I sat down carefully.

Very carefully.

No more sounds.

No more disasters.

For at least five minutes.

Sana leaned slightly toward me.

"Bach gayi," she whispered under her breath, relief and amusement mixing in her voice.

"You survived."

I opened my notebook.

"Chup," I whispered back, glaring at her.

"Shut up."

Aarav stopped writing.

My entire body went still.

He turned around.

His eyes swept across the third row.

Sana immediately looked at the board.

I stared down at my notebook with the concentration of a woman decoding nuclear launch codes.

Aarav's gaze remained there for a moment.

"Since some of us have already lost four minutes," he said calmly to the entire class, though I knew perfectly well who some of us meant, "I'd prefer not to lose any more."

Heat climbed into my cheeks.

No one laughed.

That made it worse.

"Sorry, sir," I murmured, looking up briefly.

Aarav gave one short nod.

Then continued teaching.

And that was the last thing he said directly or indirectly to me for the entire lecture.

Which should have made things easier.

It didn't.

Because now I had time to observe him.

And apparently, Dr. Aarav Malhotra took teaching as seriously as people took international peace treaties.

His handwriting was painfully neat.

Even his arrows were straight.

Who drew straight arrows freehand?

Suspicious people.

He never searched for words.

Never lost his place.

Never checked his phone.

His explanations were short and precise.

When somebody asked a question, he listened fully before answering.

When somebody whispered, one look was enough to stop them.

And when he erased the board, he cleaned the entire section before beginning again.

No half-erased words.

No random marker stains.

Nothing.

I looked at my own notebook.

The heading was crooked.

There was a tiny doodle beside it.

My handwriting had already changed size three times.

We were clearly natural enemies.

The lecture continued.

For the first ten minutes, I tried genuinely hard to focus.

Then I got hungry.

I ignored it.

My stomach disagreed.

I shifted slightly in my chair.

Sana glanced at me.

I looked at her.

She looked toward my bag.

I slowly shook my head.

She knew.

Of course she knew.

There was a chocolate bar inside.

I had put it there last night.

I looked toward Aarav.

His back was turned.

No.

Absolutely not.

I was twenty-one.

I had self-control.

I could wait forty minutes.

My stomach growled.

I quietly opened my bag.

Sana's eyes widened.

I gave her a warning look.

Don't judge me.

My fingers found the chocolate.

I carefully pulled it out.

The wrapper made the tiniest crinkle.

Aarav stopped speaking.

My soul left my body.

I froze with my hand inside the bag.

He didn't turn.

For two seconds, the room remained silent.

Then he continued explaining transcription regulation.

I slowly exhaled.

Sana pressed her lips together.

I put the chocolate back.

Not worth dying for.

At the front, Aarav continued the lecture, but a faint crease had appeared between his brows.

From his perspective, the late student in the third row had arrived after class began, knocked over a bottle, whispered within minutes of sitting down, and was now apparently attempting to eat.

He didn't know anything else about me.

The lecture ended at 9:55.

Aarav placed the marker down.

"Read the assigned section before Wednesday," he instructed the class in a firm, professional voice while closing his laptop. "I won't spend the next lecture repeating material you're expected to know."

A collective heaviness settled over the room.

Great.

One of those professors.

Aarav glanced across the class once.

His eyes passed over me without stopping.

"That's all," he said simply.

Chairs immediately began moving.

The room filled with voices.

I closed my notebook.

Sana turned toward me so quickly that her ponytail swung over her shoulder.

"He hates you," she announced with absolute confidence, keeping her voice low enough that only I could hear.

I stared at her.

"He spoke to me for approximately fourteen seconds," I replied, offended by her conclusion.

Sana began packing her bag.

"Exactly," she whispered dramatically. "And in those fourteen seconds, you were late, attacked a water bottle and tried to smuggle chocolate."

"I didn't attack the bottle," I protested quietly while placing my pen inside my bag. "It was collateral damage."

Sana looked at me.

Then she laughed.

I glanced toward the front.

Aarav was speaking to another student.

He wasn't looking at me.

Good.

I stood.

"Chalo. Mujhe coffee chahiye," I told Sana, pulling my bag onto my shoulder with a tired sigh.

"Come on. I need coffee."

Sana raised an eyebrow.

"Tumhe discipline chahiye," she corrected teasingly.

"You need discipline."

I placed a hand over my chest.

"Professor Malhotra ki aatma tumhare andar aa gayi hai kya?" I asked her with exaggerated horror.

"Has Professor Malhotra's spirit possessed you already?"

Sana laughed loudly.

Too loudly.

I immediately looked toward the front.

Aarav's eyes lifted.

Straight toward us.

I stopped smiling.

Sana stopped laughing.

For one awkward second, neither of us moved.

Aarav's expression remained unreadable.

Then he looked away.

I grabbed Sana's wrist.

"Chal," I whispered urgently, dragging her toward the door.

"Move."

We escaped into the corridor.

The moment we were outside, Sana started laughing again.

I glared at her.

"Tum mujhe semester ke end tak zinda nahi rehne dogi," I accused her while walking beside her.

"You're not going to let me survive until the end of this semester."

Sana wiped beneath her eye.

"Main? Tumhe meri zarurat hi nahi hai. Tum khud kaafi ho," she replied between laughs.

"Me? You don't need my help. You're perfectly capable of destroying yourself."

I wanted to argue.

Unfortunately, she had evidence.

The cafeteria was warmer than outside and smelled of coffee, fried potatoes and instant noodles.

Basically heaven.

Rain had begun again while we crossed the courtyard, a light drizzle tapping steadily against the large windows.

Students crowded around tables, filling the room with conversation and laughter.

I ordered iced coffee.

Sana stared at me.

"It's raining," she pointed out, looking from the grey sky to the cold drink in my hand.

"And?" I asked, taking a satisfied sip.

"Normal people drink something hot in this weather."

"Normal is boring."

"You're going to get sick."

"That's future Meera's problem."

Sana shook her head.

We found a table near the window.

I immediately opened my bag.

Chocolate.

Finally.

I tore the wrapper open.

Sana watched me.

"You couldn't wait one hour?"

"I did wait."

"You almost ate it in class."

"Almost isn't a crime."

Sana leaned back in her chair.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Dr. Malhotra."

I groaned.

"What about him?"

"First impression?"

I thought about it.

Strict.

Quiet.

Organized.

Annoyingly observant.

Good at explaining things.

But I wasn't going to give Sana that last one because she'd make something weird out of it.

"Scary stationery advertisement," I concluded.

Sana blinked.

"What?"

"Everything about him is too neat."

She laughed.

"That's your complaint?"

"Did you see his board?"

"Yes?"

"Every line was straight."

"Meera...."

"Without a ruler, Sana."

She stared at me.

I leaned forward.

"That's not normal."

Sana shook her head, smiling.

"You're unbelievable."

I broke off another piece of chocolate.

"Also, I think he thinks I'm stupid."

Her expression changed.

"Why?"

I shrugged, pretending I didn't care.

"Look at it from his side. I came late, dropped someone's bottle, talked during class and nearly opened chocolate."

Sana winced.

"When you put it like that..."

"Exactly."

"But he hasn't seen your marks."

"Probably not."

"And even if he has, maybe he doesn't remember."

"Doesn't matter."

I took another sip of coffee.

Strangely, though, it did bother me.

Just a little.

Not because I needed every professor to think I was brilliant.

I didn't.

But I hated being underestimated.

There was a difference between being careless and being incapable.

People confused the two surprisingly often.

I looked through the rain-covered window toward the science building.

Then I shook the thought away.

Who cared what Dr. Aarav Malhotra thought after one lecture?

Certainly not me.

The rest of the day passed normally.

Which, for me, meant almost missing a laboratory briefing because Sana and I stopped to buy fries.

Arguing with Aditi over whose notes were more readable.

Helping one of my classmates understand an enzyme kinetics problem.

Forgetting my water bottle in the library.

Walking halfway downstairs.

Remembering it.

Going back.

Then discovering it had been inside the side pocket of my bag the entire time.

By five in the evening, the rain had stopped.

The campus looked freshly washed beneath the soft grey sky.

Water dripped from tree branches.

The red-brick buildings had darkened with moisture.

Students moved toward the gates in groups, tired and noisy after a full day.

Sana left first because her brother had come to pick her up.

I stayed behind for another fifteen minutes to return a book.

When I finally stepped outside the library, my phone rang.

Riya.

I answered.

"Hello?" I said, adjusting my bag as I walked.

"Zinda ho?" Riya asked dramatically from the other end.

"Are you alive?"

"Barely," I replied, smiling despite my tiredness.

"Kaisa tha new professor?" she asked immediately, curiosity brightening her voice.

"How was the new professor?"

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see me.

"Tumne mujhe check karne ke liye call kiya tha ya professor ka review lene ke liye?" I asked suspiciously.

"Did you call to check on me or to get a review of my professor?"

"Dono," Riya admitted shamelessly.

"Both."

I laughed.

Then looked toward the science building across the wet courtyard.

For some reason, the morning replayed briefly in my mind.

The closed classroom door.

Forty students staring.

The bottle crashing.

That unreadable expression.

The tiny pause when the chocolate wrapper crinkled.

"He's..." I began slowly.

Riya waited.

"Annoying," I finished.

"Usne kya kiya?" Riya asked, instantly entertained.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing."

There was silence on the phone.

Then Riya laughed.

"Nothing?"

"Exactly. That's the problem."

"You're weird."

"I know."

I smiled and continued toward the gate.

"Ghar aa rahi ho?" Riya asked more softly.

"Are you coming home?"

"Haan," I replied, feeling my shoulders relax at the thought of home.

"Yeah."

"Pizza order karein?"

I stopped walking.

My mood improved instantly.

"I love you."

Riya laughed.

"Twenty minutes."

"Extra cheese."

"Obviously."

I ended the call smiling.

Behind me, the university continued its ordinary evening rhythm.

Classrooms emptied.

Faculty offices closed.

Students hurried home.

And somewhere inside the Life Sciences department, Dr. Aarav Malhotra was probably finishing his work with the same irritating precision with which he had drawn those straight arrows.

I hoped his face was as expressive as everyone in my family seemed to think mine was.

For now, though, I had more important things to worry about.

Pizza.

My bed.

And setting enough alarms to make sure I wasn't late tomorrow.

I pulled out my phone while walking toward the gate.

Alarm one: 6:45 A.M.

Alarm two: 6:50 A.M.

Alarm three: 6:55 A.M.

Alarm four: 7:00 A.M.

I considered it.

Then added another.

7:05 A.M.

Perfect.

Responsible.

Mature.

Completely foolproof.

I smiled and put my phone back into my bag.

Author's Pov

It would be another three days before Dr. Aarav Malhotra discovered that the student he had quietly dismissed as careless could answer one of the hardest questions in his class without even opening her notebook.

And considerably longer before either of us discovered that university wasn't actually the first place their lives had crossed.

But those were problems for another day.

That evening, Meera went home believing Dr. Malhotra would remain exactly where he belonged.

At the front of a lecture hall.

And nowhere else in her life.