The study class buzzed with students from every grade, each absorbed in their own tangle of homework and whispers, all overseen by Mrs. Anjali's calm, commanding presence. Sharon found her usual desk, her pulse skipping as she spotted Sid already at the table beside hers a deliberate move, she realized. He'd remembered exactly where she sat last time, watched her routines in quiet detail.
She didn't show it, slipping into her seat with practiced ease, careful not to give away the crackling tension beneath her surface. Only Sia would know anything, but even Sia's comfort had been displaced her favorite spot claimed by Sid, leaving her a few seats away, eyes flickering with disappointment.
Sid kept his head down, posture perfect, eyes fixed on the dense pages of his textbook. The stories that trailed after him a wild, charming boy with a knowing grin didn't match the Sid at this desk. Outwardly, he looked the model student, not even glancing in Sharon's direction.
But beneath the table, as Sharon shuffled her books, Sid was acutely aware of every twitch and sigh. He'd chosen the seat not by accident, but to tip the rhythm of the class in his favor to feel the charge that always seemed to spark when Sharon was near. He hid a smile each time he sensed her annoyance, knowing his indifference was its own kind of dare. She pretended she didn't see him, but he noticed how her hand stilled when their elbows brushed, just slightly.
Sia noticed all of this, too, each small shift in the air fortifying the ache in her chest. She watched Sid, hoping for a glance, a word, anything. But he only had eyes and intentions for Sharon, who was doing her best to ignore him, guilt and anticipation twisting inside her.
For Sharon, not speaking to Sid felt unnatural. With everyone else, she was chatty and open, the reliable bridge between classmates, older and younger alike. But around Sid, she pulled into herself, wary of how much she remembered, and perhaps even how much she still wanted to know. Her silence was partly guilt no one else knew their strange, tangled history and partly the bracing fear of all the feelings she couldn't control when he was close.
Mrs. Anjali called for her attention. "Sharon, please read the next chapter aloud."
Sharon stood, steady even as uncertainty pulled at her. Her voice was clear, words unfolding down the page, until a sensation jolted her mid-sentence: Sid was gently, almost lazily, playing with her toes under the desk.
For a second the world flickered, her body electrified. She fumbled and fell silent.
Mrs. Anjali's eyes lifted, worried. "Everything alright, Sharon?"
Sharon managed a quick smile, voice a little too high. "Nothing, ma'am. Just… need a sip of water."
From his place beside her, Sid's smile was small but unmistakably pleased. He caught Sharon's eye, gaze both apologetic and boldly challenging, Go on, do something about it, it seemed to say.
He'd acted without thinking, a mix of old instinctual bravado and something new, an actual desire to see if he could rattle this unflappable version of Sharon. And when she didn't scold him, but instead glared with a fire he remembered from years ago, Sid felt the familiar, heady rush of having woken something between them that was theirs alone.
Across the room, Sia watched the silent exchange, her longing deepening into disappointment. It was clear Sid's attention even with all the rumors and stories was caught by Sharon, not her. She tried to focus on her own notes, but the ache remained.
For a moment, nothing needed to be said. Beneath that humming room where students from every class whispered secrets and solutions a new current danced below the surface: a game of glances, provocations, and the silent, unmistakable beginning of something more.