They both woke up earlier than usual that morning. There was no alarm, no deadline chasing them out of bed. But something about the air felt different. Unsaid. Like the kind of day that carried meaning in its silence. Neither of them could quite place it—but they both felt it.
Aanya stood in front of her wardrobe, scanning her outfits like she was picking armor for war—but it was only college. She chose something soft, light, not loud. Her hair still held a bit of water from the rushed shower, her scarf was folded haphazardly, and her books were jammed into her bag like an afterthought.
She skipped her breakfast.
And on the other side of the city, he was doing the same.
He hadn't even realized he'd skipped breakfast until he reached for his bag and saw the time—he was early. But not early enough for the way his nerves buzzed.
The traffic seemed to crawl despite his urgency. Horns blared and lights turned red just to mock him, or so it felt. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, the rhythm matching the quickening beat of his heart. He wasn't going to be late. He just didn't want to keep her waiting. Even if she wasn't.
He parked haphazardly. Slammed the door shut. Jogged across the college lot without caring who stared. His eyes searched through every group and face until they fell on her.
She was there. Already seated. Looking down at her notebook, then up at the door again and again, pretending she wasn't waiting.
But when he walked in—her eyes locked on his.
No smile. No wave.
Just the kind of eye contact that shakes something inside.
He walked towards her—slower now. Like a pull between them had begun to even out. She was still glowing from the beach day, and maybe… so was he.
He sat beside her, his breath still catching up with his body.
"You came early," she whispered, as though it was a secret.
"You did too."
They were both smiling now, unbothered by the presence of the few people around them. There was something about the quiet between them that hummed louder than all the chaos.
"You ate?" he asked, pretending to sound casual.
She shook her head. "Did you?"
He shook his too.
A shared laugh slipped out. "We're idiots," she murmured.
"Sure," he said, just under his breath.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of emergency biscuits. "I knew you'd skip breakfast too."
"You psychic now?"
"No. Just… learning you."
It struck him hard, that line. Like a pebble dropped in still water.
Learning you.
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't anything big. But it was everything.
He took the biscuit she offered, their fingers brushing briefly.
And in that soft, ordinary contact, something ignited.
The lecture began, and the world faded to background noise. They passed notes—nothing flirty, just jokes and sarcasm. They fought over a pen. She corrected something in his book. He leaned close to explain a diagram she already understood.
It was nothing extraordinary.
But it was everything they needed that morning.
And just like that, both of them were consumed by the classes which commenced shortly.
They were pretty much focused, not all into it, but attentive enough to be considered mentally present.
He couldn't help but admire her face.
God, her nose was so sharp.. how did he not notice that, she could cut an apple or water melon with that nose.
And with that he turned back to the board, so that neither of them gets into a stinky issue.