Meera sat at the corner of the café table, laptop open, papers scattered everywhere. Harsh plopped down opposite her with a dramatic sigh.
"Finally decided to show up," he said, staring at her. "I was about to report you missing for 'unexplained absence during group projects.'"
"Wow," Meera replied, rolling her eyes. "Such concern. I almost feel safe knowing you're here to supervise me."
Harsh smirked. "Of course. Someone has to make sure you don't accidentally destroy the project. You have a talent for chaos, you know that?"
"I prefer the term 'creative genius,'" Meera shot back.
"Right, creative genius," he said, raising his eyebrows. "The kind that forgets to cite sources and then cries when the grade drops."
Meera giggled, trying not to smile too widely. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll treasure it."
Harsh leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Honestly, though… you looked kind of off today. Are you… okay?"
Meera blinked, surprised. "Off? Really? And you notice that?"
He shrugged, his smirk softening just a little. "I notice things. Even the stuff you try to hide."
"Trying to hide?" she teased. "You mean my intense focus on the project?"
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Sure. Intense focus. That explains why you were staring at your laptop like you'd just solved world hunger five minutes ago."
Meera snorted. "I might have. You wouldn't understand genius when it's right in front of you."
Harsh shook his head, laughing lightly. "Okay, fine, genius. How about we start with the first section before your brilliance makes me dizzy?"
As they worked, their sarcasm continued—Harsh critiquing her slides in exaggeratedly dramatic tones, Meera rolling her eyes and firing back with witty comebacks. Yet, beneath all the teasing, there was a warmth between them, a comfort that neither wanted to admit.
At one point, Meera leaned forward to fix a typo on her slide, and Harsh's hand brushed hers. Neither pulled away immediately.
"Careful," he muttered, smirking. "Your touch is… distracting."
Meera froze for a second, then turned her gaze back to the screen, trying to act nonchalant. "Obviously. I wouldn't want to ruin your perfect concentration."
Harsh leaned closer, whispering just enough for her to hear, "You already have."
Meera's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly sat back, hiding a grin. "Focus, Harsh. Focus!"
They continued in this rhythm—teasing, working, laughing, stealing small glances at each other. Every sarcastic comment carried a little spark, every smile seemed longer than necessary.
By the time they finished, the café was nearly empty. Papers stacked neatly, laptops closed, the project ready to be submitted.
Harsh leaned back, stretching. "Well, genius, I think we actually survived your chaos this time. I might even call it… teamwork."
Meera tilted her head. "Careful. Flattery might get you nothing but more sarcastic comments next time."
He stood up, giving her a playful smirk. "Maybe. But honestly, spending time with you… even with all your sarcasm… isn't so bad."
Meera felt a warmth she couldn't explain. "Not so bad, huh?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice softer now, though still teasing. "I might even say… enjoyable. But don't get used to it."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry. I won't."
As they packed up their things, walking out of the café together, Meera realized that she actually liked this—working with him, teasing him, being around him. And maybe, just maybe, Harsh liked it too.
Meera went home feeling surprisingly light after her study session with Harsh. His sarcasm, teasing, and subtle care had left her smiling in a way that Rohan never quite did.
But the moment her phone buzzed, she froze. A text from Rohan:
"Hey, did you get home safely?"
She hesitated for a second, then typed a quick reply:
"Yeah, I'm fine. You?"
He replied almost instantly:
"Boring day without me, I bet 😏"
Meera rolled her eyes, setting her phone down. She shook her head at herself, reminding herself she didn't need him to feel validated.
The next day came faster than she expected, and football practice was back. Meera tried to keep her spirits up, but the pattern repeated—she was the last to get picked, again.
Rohan, laughing with his friends, didn't even look at her.
"Ugh, we don't need you on our team this time," he called over with a grin. "Last time you made us lose."
Meera's stomach twisted. Her fingers clenched, but she forced herself to stay quiet.
"Relax, babe," Rohan added, tossing her a wink. "You know you don't play well. Am I saying something wrong?"
The boys around him laughed, echoing his teasing, and Meera could feel the sting. She hated the way he made her feel small, like her effort didn't matter, but she didn't reply. She simply walked to the sidelines, deciding she'd talk to him later.
Even during girls' practice, she noticed Rohan chatting with other girls, laughing a little too closely, while he barely glanced her way. Meera felt a sharp pang in her chest but forced herself to focus on her dribbling.
By the afternoon, she was ignoring his texts completely. She spent the day with her own thoughts, letting herself cool off. But, as usual, her phone buzzed again—it was Rohan.
"Hey… why so quiet today?"
Meera replied with a row of sarcastic emojis.
"Maybe you should go check out other girls then 😏"
He responded quickly:
"Don't be silly. You know I can't 😏"
Meera raised an eyebrow. "Rohan… do you have a private account?"
"Yes."
She bit her lip. "Would you… add me?"
"No. Only favorite people."
Her heart sank slightly. She had thought she was already on that list.
Meera teased him lightly, masking her hurt: "Oh, so I'm not one of your favorite people?"
Rohan's reply was blunt, almost too casual:
"No."
She frowned but kept her tone playful: "Okay… fine. At least you could have said it just to make me feel good."
There was a pause. Then his text came, accompanied by a heart emoji:
"Okay, fine. You're my most favorite person ❤️"
Meera couldn't help but smile despite the mixed feelings. Rohan's behavior was infuriating, yet she realized… she still cared.