It started as a whisper.
One hallway conversation.
Two gazes held longer than they should have.
Three girls nudging each other behind textbooks.
"Ayaan keeps looking at her."
"Who? Ahaana? That one?"
"Yeah, the one who's suddenly dating that Aditya guy…"
Whispers traveled faster than truth.
Ahaana didn't speak much anymore, at least not to Ayaan.
But the silence between them… it buzzed.
Like electricity in a wire just before it burns.
Every time he passed her in the corridor, his eyes would search her face—not with admiration, not even with affection… but something else. Regret, maybe. Curiosity. Maybe both.
Ahaana tried not to notice.
She had perfected the art of cold indifference.
Her laugh around Aditya was louder now. She leaned into him more often, even if her heart wasn't fully there. She wasn't pretending to love Aditya. No—it wasn't fake. It was just... safer.
Aditya never judged her scar.
Never made her feel like she was lucky he was talking to her.
He just existed next to her like warmth, like comfort. Like something steady.
Ayaan, on the other hand, made her feel like fire.
Beautiful, terrifying fire—ready to consume.
And yet, he never made a move.
Never messaged her again. Never apologized.
But she knew he was watching.
From the football field. From the back row in assembly. From across the canteen.
And not just him. His friends too.
Ayaan's circle—the stylish boys with loud voices and perfect hair—began to take interest in her. They didn't talk, but she could feel it.
Their stares at lunch. Their sudden presence near her class.
They used to look through her like she didn't exist.
Now they looked like they were trying to understand her.
What changed?
Was it her makeup? Her confidence?
Or the fact that she was finally untouchable?
Ahaana didn't know. But it felt like a game was beginning—one she never signed up to play.
She'd be talking to Simran or checking Aditya's notes, and in the corner of her eye, she'd spot him.
Ayaan. Sitting on the stairs. Pretending to scroll his phone.
Looking up every few seconds.
The worst part?
She still noticed him.
Even after everything, her heart still reacted.
Not with hope—but with something worse: longing.
But pride was a wall she had built too high to climb now.
If he wanted to talk, he could come to her.
If he wanted to explain, he could speak.
She wasn't going to chase someone who had once looked at her like a stranger.
And so the game continued.
His glances.
Her silence.
The tension so thick it could almost be tasted.
And everyone else?
They watched.
They whispered.
They waited for the twist.
Because school romances were always like this—
A little cruel. A little slow. A little unforgettable.