Ayaan's POV
The school gate was already crowded.
Buses honking, students shouting, laughter floating in the winter air. Ayaan walked in with his bag slung over one shoulder, earphones in—music loud enough to drown thoughts he didn’t want.
Or names he didn’t want.
“Tara.”
He clenched his jaw.
I’m not thinking about her, he told himself for the tenth time since morning.
“Oi, lover boy!”
He stopped walking.
Raghav and Sameer and Kabir caught up, grinning like idiots.
“Kya?” Ayaan muttered.
“Phone check kar raha tha kya subah?” Sameer teased. “Kisi ka missed call toh nahi?”
Ayaan shot him a look. “Bohot funny.”
Kabir laughed. “Bro, tu hi toh bol raha tha kal—‘I won’t think about her.’”
“Exactly,” Ayaan said flatly. “Aur main nahi soch raha.”
Right on cue, Kabir pointed ahead.
“Phir woh kaun hai?”
Ayaan’s eyes lifted before his brain could stop them.
Tara.
She was standing near the notice board, hair tied in a loose ponytail, reading something seriously. The morning sun caught the side of her face, soft and annoyingly distracting.
Ayaan looked away instantly.
Bas. Ignore.
In class, the day dragged.
Teachers talked. Chalk scratched the board. Pages turned.
And still—Ayaan noticed.
Tara borrowing a pen.
Tara whispering to her friend.
Tara tucking her hair behind her ear while concentrating.
Focus, he warned himself.
Then the bell rang for p.t period
The corridor buzzed with noise And chatters
Ayaan leaned against the railing, sipping water, half-listening to Raghav’s rant about homework when a familiar laugh cut through everything.
Her laugh.
He didn’t turn.
Not immediately.
When he finally did his chest tightened.
Tara was laughing with Arjun. Basketball jersey half-visible under his jacket. Too close. Too comfortable. Like this wasn’t their first conversation.
Arjun said something, leaning in slightly.
Tara laughed again.
Ayaan swallowed.
“Bro,” Kabir said slowly, watching him. “Tu thik hai?”
“I’m fine.”
But his foot was tapping.
Hard.
“She’s just talking,” he added, more to himself than anyone else.
Sameer smirked. “Haan haan. Waise Arjun ka number famous hai—”
Ayaan shot him a glare sharp enough to shut him up.
Tara felt eyes on her.
She turned instinctively.
Ayaan.
He was looking at her—not angry, not smiling.
Just… distant.
Cold.
Her laugh faded mid-breath.
Did I do something?
Before she could think more, Ayaan turned away, walking off with his friends like she didn’t exist.
And that hurt more than she expected.
By the time the second period bell rang,
both of them had decided the same thing Without saying it.
Fine. Ignore.
And neither realized yet
that this was the start of something messier
The bell rang.
English period.
Ayaan hated this class.
Not because of the subject—
because Tara sat two benches ahead of him.
The teacher was busy arranging papers when a notebook slid off Tara’s desk and landed near Ayaan’s foot.
She turned slightly.
“Can you pass it—”
Before she could finish, Ayaan spoke.
Loud.
“Maybe ask Arjun to do it.”
The class went silent.
Tara froze.
Kabir’s head snapped toward Ayaan.
“What the hell—”
Tara slowly stood up, walked back, and picked up her notebook herself. Her hands were steady, but her face wasn’t.
“I didn’t know asking you was such a problem,” she said quietly.
Ayaan didn’t look at her.
“Then don’t.”
A few students exchanged looks. Someone coughed awkwardly.
The teacher turned around.
“Is there an issue?”
“No, ma’am,” Tara said quickly, already walking back to her seat.
Ayaan watched her go.
And in that exact moment—
the anger drained.
What rushed in instead was something worse.
Regret
_______
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