Nihal's POV
I didn't plan to ask her.
Not today.
Not with the syllabus breathing down our necks and the hostel buzzing with panic.
But Meher was sitting alone in the common room, her notes spread out like a fortress.
Hair tied up.
Eyes focused.
That quiet concentration that made everything else feel loud.
I stood there for a second too long.
Then walked over like I had a reason.
"Want to study together?"
It came out casual.
Too casual.
She looked up.
Paused.
Then nodded.
No smile.
Just a quiet yes.
We sat side by side, books between us, silence stretching like a thread.
I didn't say much.
She didn't either.
But every time our hands reached for the same highlighter, something flickered.
Not tension.
Not electricity.
Just… awareness.
She asked me about a derivation.
I leaned in to explain, pointing at the curve, the slope, the logic.
She nodded slowly, her shoulder brushing mine.
I didn't move.
Later, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and murmured,
"You explain things like you're trying not to scare them."
I blinked.
"What do you mean?"
She smiled, barely.
"Like you're gentle with the truth."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I just looked at her.
And she didn't look away.
We kept studying.
But something had shifted.
Between the equations and the silence,
Between the shared glances and the unspoken comfort,
There was a softness I hadn't expected.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Just the kind of quiet that feels like safety.
When she got up to leave, she paused.
"Same time tomorrow?"
I nodded.
And watched her walk away,
Knowing I'd replay that moment more than once tonight.