The library was hushed, except for the faint rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of pens against paper. Aanya sat cross-legged on a low bench, her lab coat folded neatly beside her, explaining cardiac embryology to a wide-eyed first-year student. Her voice was soft, patient, words flowing like water.
Saurin sat two tables away, trying to focus on his pharmacology notes, but his eyes betrayed him. Every time he underlined a term, his gaze flicked back to her. To the way she pushed her hair behind her ear, how her brows knitted when the junior didn't understand, and the small victorious smile when they finally did.
God… she looks… different when she's teaching, he thought, pressing his pen harder into the page than necessary. Focused. Gentle. Like the entire world could fall apart and she'd still stay calm.
He shook his head, irritated at himself. This is ridiculous. You kissed her, yes, but you're acting like—
"Excuse me," a voice interrupted softly.
Saurin glanced up. A senior — probably final year, judging by the navy-blue stethoscope slung across his shoulders — stood near Aanya's table. Tall, confident, the kind of confidence that came from years inside these walls.
"I couldn't help overhearing," the senior said politely, eyes on Aanya. "You explained that well. But you might also want to tell them about the truncus arteriosus and its role in septation—it helps them connect the dots faster."
Aanya looked up, momentarily surprised, then smiled. "Oh… yes, you're right. I'll add that. Thank you."
"No problem." He returned the smile, a faint curve of his lips, before stepping away toward the next aisle.
Saurin's jaw tightened. It wasn't what the guy said. It wasn't even how casually he said it. It was the look — that effortless, polite interest that lingered a second too long.
He lowered his head, gripping his pen like a lifeline. Why does this bother me? She talks to people every day. You have no claim over her. None.
But his chest didn't listen. It burned in a way he couldn't name.
Aanya continued explaining to the junior, unbothered, but Saurin barely read another word. The words on the page blurred as his thoughts spiraled:
She's yours. No—she's not yours. But… does he think she can be?
Minutes later, Aanya wrapped up her session and waved the junior off. She began packing her books, and Saurin was on his feet before he realized.
"Done?" His voice was too casual to be natural.
She nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah. You done?"
He gave a tight smile. "Yeah."
They walked out together, the hush of the library giving way to the distant hum of the campus. Saurin didn't look back, but the image of the senior's lingering smile refused to leave his mind.
And somewhere, a quiet resolve settled in his chest—sharp and unyielding.