Vedant's POV
The cafeteria was loud. Not chaotic—just alive. Trays clattered, chairs scraped, someone's playlist leaked from a phone speaker in the corner. I preferred silence, but this was familiar noise. Predictable.
I sat with Nihal, Aryan, and Mudit at our usual table near the window. They were already halfway through their samosas when I dropped my bag and joined them.
"Late," Nihal said, mouth half-full. "Don't tell me you were stalking the library girl again."
I didn't flinch. "I was in class."
"Same thing," Aryan muttered, grinning. "You've been weird lately. All quiet and broody. Like you're in a Netflix original."
Mudit leaned in. "Is this about that girl? The one with the braid and the scary eyes?"
"She's not scary," I said before I could stop myself.
Three heads turned.
Nihal raised an eyebrow. "So, you admit you've been watching her."
"I observe everyone," I said. "It's called awareness."
Aryan snorted. "Bro, you've never 'observed' anyone this hard. You knew what color her kurta was yesterday."
Mudit leaned back, smug. "Charcoal grey. Fine threadwork. No jewelry. Minimalist elegance. Am I right?"
I didn't answer.
They laughed.
Nihal nudged me. "Look, we're not judging. We're just saying—maybe you're not as emotionally bulletproof as you pretend."
"She's just...different," I said, keeping my voice even. "She doesn't waste words. Doesn't perform. It's rare."
Aryan grinned. "So, you like her."
"I don't know her."
"That's not a no."
I looked out the window. The sky was pale, cloudless. Arohi would probably be walking back from class now, alone, like always. I wondered if she noticed the way people watched her. I wondered if she cared.
"She's disciplined," I said quietly. "That's all."
Mudit raised his samosa like a toast. "To disciplined girls who ruin emotionally unavailable boys."
Nihal chuckled. "You're slipping, Vedant. And it's kind of fun to watch."
I didn't respond.
Because maybe I was slipping.
And maybe I didn't mind.