It didn't take long for things to change.
Not in a way that anyone else would notice. Not in a way they themselves could clearly point out. But somewhere between passing glances and short conversations, something had shifted.
They started… staying.
It began with small things.
A shared table in the library that neither of them officially claimed, yet always ended up occupying at the same time. At first, it was coincidence. Or at least, that's what they told themselves.
Anaya would walk in, scanning the room absentmindedly—only to find him already there, sitting in the corner with a book open, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. And for a brief second, she would pause.
Then walk straight toward that table.
"Don't tell me this is your spot now," she said one day, dropping her books onto the table across from him.
Reyansh didn't even look up. "You're the one who keeps coming here."
She pulled out the chair and sat down, pretending to be offended. "Wow. So now I'm the problem?"
"That's not what I said."
"That's exactly what you implied."
A small pause.
Then, finally, he looked up.
And there it was—that faint, almost invisible hint of amusement in his eyes.
"You talk too much," he said.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "And yet you keep listening."
He didn't respond to that. But he didn't deny it either. That became their rhythm. Light arguments that weren't really arguments. Teasing that didn't cross the line. Silences that didn't feel empty. Somewhere along the way, studying together became normal. Not planned. Not discussed. Just… expected. She would explain things out loud—even when he didn't ask. He would correct her when she got something wrong—without making it sound like criticism.
"You're doing it wrong," he said once, glancing at her notebook.
Anaya frowned immediately. "Excuse me? I am not."
"You skipped a step."
"I didn't skip anything."
"You did."
She pushed the notebook toward him. "Then show me."
He leaned closer. Not too much. Just enough to reach. But for a moment, she forgot what they were even talking about. Because suddenly— He was closer than usual. Close enough for her to notice the way his voice softened when he explained something. Close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne. Close enough for her heartbeat to feel… slightly off.
"…see?" he said, pointing at the page. "This part."
She blinked.
"…huh?"
His eyes flickered up to her. "You weren't listening."
"I was!"
"You weren't."
She straightened instantly. "I was just… thinking."
"About?"
"…the question."
A pause.
Then—
"Liar."
Her eyes widened slightly. "I am not lying!"
He leaned back, clearly unconvinced. "Sure."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "You're very annoying, you know that?"
"And yet you keep sitting here."
That—
That shut her up.
For a second.
Only a second.
"Maybe I like being annoyed," she muttered.
He didn't respond.
But something about his expression softened again. Days blurred into each other. And somehow, without realizing it, they started becoming part of each other's routine. If she didn't see him in the morning, something felt off. If he didn't hear her voice at least once during the day, the silence felt… noticeable.
It was subtle.
Quiet.
Unspoken.
But real.
And then—
The first spark of something unfamiliar appeared. It happened on an ordinary afternoon. Anaya was standing near the classroom, flipping through her notes, when she heard it.
A laugh. Not hers. Not familiar. She looked up. And there he was. Reyansh. Standing a little distance away. Talking to someone. A girl. She didn't know who. But what she noticed wasn't the girl. It was him. Because he was smiling. Not the faint, almost-hidden smile he gave her. But something more open. More visible. And for some reason— That didn't sit right. Her fingers paused over the page. "…why do I care?" The thought came suddenly. Uninvited. Unanswered. She looked away quickly, shaking her head. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. They weren't— Anything. Right? And yet— Her eyes drifted back. Just for a second. Reyansh said something. The girl laughed again. And that small, unfamiliar feeling tightened slightly in her chest. Annoyance. She closed her notebook a little harder than necessary.
"Stupid," she muttered under her breath. She didn't even know if she meant him. Or herself. Across the hallway, Reyansh noticed the shift. Not immediately. But enough. Because when he turned back— She was already walking away. Without saying anything. And for the first time— He felt it too. That slight discomfort. That subtle awareness. That something had changed. He didn't understand it. Didn't question it. But later when he sat at their usual table in the library— He noticed the empty chair across him. And for some reason that bothered him more than it should have. He closed the book. Not reading anymore. Just waiting. And when she finally walked in—
A few minutes later—
Trying to act normal—
Trying to act unaffected—
He didn't say anything.
Neither did she.
But when she sat down—
A little more forcefully than usual—
He spoke.
"…you're late."
She didn't look up. "I didn't say I'd come."
"You didn't have to."
A pause.
Her fingers stilled.
Just for a second.
"…you assume too much."
"Do I?"
Now she looked up. Their eyes met. And for a moment— Neither looked away. Because something was there now. Something new. Something neither of them had named yet. But both had started to feel.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
That was where everything truly began. The feeling didn't leave. It lingered. Quietly. Irritatingly. Constantly. Anaya tried to ignore it. She really did. But every time she saw him talking to someone else—especially her—it came back. That same tightness. That same unexplainable irritation.
"…why is she always around?" she muttered, flipping a page without actually reading it.
Her friend, Ritika glanced at her. "Who?"
Anaya didn't look up. "No one."
"Hmm."
That tone.
That knowing tone.
Anaya finally looked at her. "What?"
"Nothing," her friend said, smiling a little too innocently.
Anaya narrowed her eyes. "…say it."
"You're jealous."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"Then why do you keep looking there?"
Anaya froze.
Just for a second.
Then quickly looked away.
"…I'm not looking."
"You just did."
She huffed, closing her book. "Even if I was, it doesn't mean anything."
"Of course," her friend nodded. "You just don't like that he's talking to someone else."
Anaya opened her mouth to argue—
Then stopped.
Because—
That was exactly it.
And she hated that it was.
"…it's just annoying," she muttered instead.
"Why?"
"…because—" she paused, struggling for an excuse. "Because he listens to her."
Her friend raised a brow. "He listens to you too."
"…that's different."
"How?"
Anaya didn't answer. Because she didn't know. All she knew was— It felt different. And she didn't like it. Reyansh noticed it too. Not the words. Not the conversation. But her. The way she looked at him. Then looked away. The way she spoke a little less when he sat beside her. The way her usual easy rhythm felt… slightly off.
"…you're quiet," he said one day, sitting across from her in the library.
"I talk too much, remember?" she replied without looking up.
A pause.
"…I didn't say stop."
She didn't respond.
Just turned a page.
A little harder than necessary.
Reyansh watched her for a moment.
Then—
"…did something happen?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then—
"…okay."
Simple.
But something about that answer—
Made her look up.
"…you're not even going to ask again?"
"You said no."
"And you just believed it?"
"Yes."
She stared at him.
"…you're impossible."
"And you're avoiding something."
Her breath hitched slightly.
"…I'm not."
"Then look at me and say it."
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then met his eyes.
"…I'm not avoiding anything."
Silence.
A long one.
Because now—
They were looking at each other.
Properly.
And something—
Something felt too close to the surface.
Reyansh looked away first.
"…fine."
But it didn't feel fine.
Not to either of them.