Chapter 4 – Same Class, Same Fate
The morning after the rain felt strangely calm.
Meera reached college earlier than usual. She didn't admit to herself that she had left home fifteen minutes early on purpose. She blamed traffic. She blamed habit.
She didn't blame curiosity.
The corridors were quieter at this hour. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, falling in golden rectangles across the tiled floor. A few students walked past lazily, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life.
She checked the classroom number again.
Room 104.
Commerce – Section A.
She stepped inside.
Only four students were there.
Good.
She chose a seat by the window this time.
Not the back.
Not the middle.
The window.
The same place he usually sat.
She didn't know why she did that.
Maybe she wanted to see what he saw.
Maybe she wanted to understand why he preferred watching the world from the side.
She placed her notebook down and looked outside. The trees swayed gently. A few drops of leftover rain clung to the leaves, glittering in sunlight.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
She didn't turn immediately.
But she felt it.
That awareness again.
"Planning to steal my seat?"
Her heart jumped before her mind reacted.
She turned.
Aarav stood there, one eyebrow slightly raised.
He wasn't smiling.
But his eyes were amused.
"I didn't know it was reserved," she replied calmly.
"It isn't."
"Then I'm not stealing."
A pause.
He looked at the empty classroom.
Then at the seat beside her.
Then back at her.
"Fair enough."
Instead of asking her to move, he walked around and sat in the seat directly next to hers.
Close.
Not too close.
But close enough that she could hear the faint sound of his breath.
Her pulse quickened.
"You're early," he said.
"So are you."
"I always am."
She glanced at him. "Why?"
He shrugged lightly. "Less noise."
"Less people."
"Less pretending."
She didn't expect that last word.
"Pretending?"
He leaned back in his chair slightly. "First week of college. Everyone's trying to look confident."
"And you're not?"
"I'm not trying."
That answer felt layered.
She studied his profile quietly.
There was something about the way he spoke — not dramatic, not mysterious on purpose — just honest in a way that felt rare.
Students began entering the classroom slowly.
The noise level rose.
Within minutes, the room filled.
Pooja entered and stopped mid-step when she saw them sitting together.
"Oh?" she grinned. "Window seat upgraded?"
Meera rolled her eyes. "It's just a seat."
Aarav glanced at Pooja briefly. "Good morning."
"Morning," she replied, clearly enjoying the moment.
The professor entered shortly after, and the class settled.
"Before we begin," he announced, "I want to confirm that this is Commerce – Section A. Those who are in Section B should check the notice board."
A few confused whispers followed.
Meera frowned.
Section B?
She hadn't checked the notice board carefully yesterday.
She glanced at her file.
Commerce – Section A.
Relief.
Beside her, Aarav checked his schedule calmly.
Then he paused.
For the first time since she met him, she saw a crack in his composure.
He looked at the paper again.
Then up at the board.
Then back at the paper.
"You're Section A, right?" she whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
"Section B," he said quietly.
Her stomach dropped.
"What?"
He exhaled slowly.
"I was sitting in the wrong class."
Silence wrapped around them.
For three days.
They had attended the same lectures.
Sat in the same room.
Worked on the same project.
And he wasn't even supposed to be there.
"How?" she asked softly.
"Orientation confusion," he replied. "The classroom numbers were similar."
The professor began calling out roll numbers.
When Aarav's name didn't come up, it confirmed it.
"You're not on the list," Meera whispered unnecessarily.
He gave a faint nod.
The professor looked up. "Is there anyone here not from Section A?"
Aarav stood calmly.
"I'm in Section B, sir."
A few students chuckled lightly.
The professor adjusted his glasses. "Then you're in the wrong classroom."
"Yes, sir."
"You'll need to attend your assigned section."
"Yes, sir."
The room suddenly felt colder.
Meera didn't know why her chest felt tight.
It was just a section.
Just a classroom.
But it felt like something was shifting.
Aarav gathered his notebook slowly.
Before stepping away, he looked at her.
Just for a second.
No dramatic expression.
No visible disappointment.
Just acknowledgment.
"Looks like fate misfiled paperwork," he said quietly.
She tried to smile.
"Seems like it."
He gave a small nod.
And walked out.
The door closed softly behind him.
And suddenly—
The window seat felt wrong.
The rest of the lecture blurred.
Meera heard words but didn't process them.
Why did this matter so much?
They were just classmates.
Correction.
They weren't even that anymore.
After class ended, she rushed toward the notice board outside.
Her eyes scanned the lists.
Commerce – Section B.
There.
Aarav Malhotra.
Room 108.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Room 108 was on the second floor.
Without thinking, she climbed the stairs.
Halfway up, she slowed down.
What was she doing?
Why was she going there?
To confirm?
To say goodbye to window seat conversations?
Her steps hesitated.
But her feet kept moving.
Outside Room 108, she stopped.
The door was slightly open.
Inside, students were seated.
And there he was.
Back row.
Near the window.
Of course.
She watched quietly from the doorway for a moment.
He looked the same.
Calm.
Detached.
As if nothing had changed.
As if he hadn't just walked away from something.
Why does that bother you? she asked herself.
He turned slightly—
And saw her.
Surprise flickered in his eyes.
He excused himself from the bench and stepped outside.
"You got lost?" he asked softly.
She crossed her arms lightly. "No."
"Then?"
"I just came to check."
"Check what?"
"If you actually exist in Section B."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I do."
Silence lingered.
"You should go back," he said gently. "Your class will start soon."
"I know."
But she didn't move.
Something unspoken stood between them.
Three days.
It shouldn't matter.
Yet it did.
"Our project?" she asked suddenly.
He blinked. "What about it?"
"You're not in my section."
"We can still work on it."
"Will we?"
His gaze softened slightly.
"Do you want to?"
The question landed heavily.
Did she?
Yes.
Too quickly.
"Yes," she admitted.
"Then we will."
Simple.
Direct.
As always.
A bell rang inside the classroom.
He glanced back.
"I should go."
She nodded.
"See you."
Not goodbye.
See you.
He stepped back into the classroom.
And she walked down the stairs slowly.
Her mind felt tangled.
This wasn't heartbreak.
This wasn't loss.
But it felt like something had shifted unexpectedly.
Like discovering that the person you were getting used to sitting beside was never meant to be there.
Same college.
Different classrooms.
Different schedules.
Different rhythms.
Same fate?
Or was that just temporary coincidence?
The following days felt… different.
They didn't see each other every lecture anymore.
Only occasionally in corridors.
Sometimes at the canteen.
Sometimes across the courtyard.
And every time—
Their eyes met.
Every time—
They paused.
But neither of them rushed forward.
Neither acted dramatic.
It was subtle.
Quiet.
Almost fragile.
One afternoon, while walking toward the library, Meera spotted him under the same tree from the first day.
Watching the sky again.
She walked toward him.
"You're early," she said.
He glanced at her.
"You're observant."
"I try."
A breeze passed between them.
"You miss Section A?" she asked lightly.
He considered it.
"Not really."
Her heart dipped slightly.
"But," he continued, "I didn't mind the company."
That helped.
"You mean the window?"
He looked at her directly.
"I mean you."
Her breath stalled.
No teasing.
No joking.
Just truth.
The wind grew stronger.
Clouds began gathering again.
"You know," she said quietly, "it's strange."
"What is?"
"That for three days we thought we were in the same class."
"And?"
"And we weren't."
He looked up at the sky briefly.
"Maybe we were supposed to sit in the wrong room."
She frowned slightly. "Why?"
"So we'd meet."
The simplicity of that answer unsettled her heart.
"You believe in fate?" she asked.
"I believe in timing."
"And this?"
He looked at her.
A long, steady gaze.
"I don't know yet."
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
She didn't close her eyes this time.
He noticed.
"You're getting better," he said.
"At what?"
"Not bracing before storms."
She smiled slightly.
"Maybe."
Rain began falling lightly.
Not heavy.
Just enough to cool the air.
They didn't move immediately.
They stood there, side by side.
Not classmates.
Not strangers.
Something in between.
Different sections.
Different rooms.
But somehow—
Still orbiting each other.
As if the universe had briefly misplaced them together—
Only to see what would happen.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
That mistake wasn't a mistake at all.