Her seat was yet again empty.
He noticed it the moment he walked in.
She hadn't returned after lunch. And Aditi hadn't either—until just now.
She slipped in, a minute late, breathless. Her eyes scanned the room once, and then she walked straight to her seat, but something was off.
She didn't open her notebook.
Didn't take out a pen.
Didn't even glance at the board.
Her hands were clenched together, thumb pressing anxiously into the pad of her palm. She was jittery in a way that wasn't Aditi.
He frowned. His eyes flicked between the door and her.
Then someone—he didn't catch who—whispered, "Where's Aanya?"
And that's when Aditi spoke. Quietly. But the words reached him.
"She's in the hospital."
Just like that.
A ripple of shock moved through the row. Someone gasped. A few heads turned.
"She was running a fever," Aditi continued, her voice strained but composed. "Has been for a while, I think. But it spiked today. Vomiting. Dehydrated. She passed out."
Passed out.
He kept shifting in his seat. The room wasn't hot, but his palms were damp. His pen tapped against the desk, fast and uneven. He felt restless, as though something inside him wouldn't settle. It wasn't anything beyond concern, he told himself. Anyone would be worried about her. That's all it was. He grounded himself in that thought, forcing it to be the one that stuck.
But still, his mind wandered back to her—her condition, the worry that had taken over Aditi, and the growing unease in his chest that he couldn't quite shake off. He tried to focus on the lesson, but it kept slipping away.
As the lecture droned on, his thoughts became a blur of half-formed ideas and distractions. He had no idea what he was hoping for, and yet.
His fingers drummed nervously against his notebook, and his mind continued to betray him. Why was this so difficult? Why was he so unsettled?
He tried to focus on the lecture. The slides changed, but the words didn't sink in. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around anything, The lecture, the case studies—everything felt irrelevant in the face of one question he couldn't answer: Why was he so bothered by this?
It wasn't like he was losing sleep over her. She was a classmate, someone he barely knew beyond practicals and the brief, sometimes awkward exchanges between them. So why did he feel like he should have been there? Why did the weight of her absence feel like it was pressing against his chest?
He breathed in deeply, fighting the anxious pulse that seemed to have settled under his skin. "Focus," he muttered under his breath. He tried again, but his mind was like a sieve, and his focus kept slipping away. The soft hum of the classroom around him, the sound of pens scraping on paper, only intensified the stillness in his own head. It was as if the world outside was moving, but his own thoughts were trapped in a loop he couldn't get out of.
She wasn't in any danger, he told himself. She had Aditi with her, someone who would make sure she was okay. Aditi had known her longer. Aditi would handle it. She didn't need him.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to be there. Maybe it wasn't about him needing to do something for her. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't want to feel like he was standing by, helpless. Not when he could do something.
But no, he had no right to barge in. He wasn't even a part of her life. They barely spoke outside of practicals. He was an observer, not a participant in her world. His mind knew that, but his body didn't.
A dull ache started at his temples. His head felt too heavy, and the room was suddenly too bright. He reached for his bottle of water, but his hands were trembling too much to unscrew the cap. He cursed under his breath. What was wrong with him?
A classmate beside him glanced over, concerned. He quickly pulled his hand back, masking the tremor. He forced a smile, but the gesture felt foreign, uncomfortable.
"Everything alright?" she asked.
"Yeah, just a headache," he muttered, hoping the lie would stick. His voice felt detached, like he was speaking from outside himself.
The class continued, but he didn't hear a word of it. His thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn't explain it, but he wasn't worried about missing a single piece of information from the lecture. No, his mind was somewhere else entirely.
The longer the day dragged on, the heavier the thoughts felt. She was still on his mind, more than he was willing to admit.