Ayaan's pov
Break time.
Ayaan sat alone on the last bench, staring at his hands like they’d betrayed him.
Kabir sat beside him.
Didn’t speak for a minute.
Then—
“Happy?”
Ayaan swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”
Kabir cut in softly, “You meant to hurt her. You just didn’t mean it that much.”
Ayaan closed his eyes.
He replayed her face.
The way her voice didn’t shake—but her eyes did.
“She was just talking,” Kabir continued. “Tu hi ne story bana li.”
“I know,” Ayaan muttered.
From across the corridor, Tara walked past with her friends.
She didn’t look at him.
That hurt more than her tears would have.
Later, during lunch, Raghav tried to lighten the mood.
“Bro, tu thoda zyada bol gaya, par—”
“Bas,” Ayaan snapped. Then quieter, “Stop.”
He pushed his food away, appetite gone.
Kabir watched him carefully.
“Tu sorry bolega?”
Ayaan scoffed. “Ab kya fayda?”
Kabir’s voice was calm, but firm.
“Sorry bolna fayde ke liye nahi hota.”
Ayaan leaned back, staring at the sky.
He’d wanted to ignore her.
To not care.
Instead, he’d done the one thing he promised he wouldn’t—
He’d become the reason she looked hurt.
And that night, when his phone buzzed with a random notification,
for half a second he hoped it was her.
It wasn’t.
Tara's POV
Her room felt too quiet.
Tara lay on her bed, phone face-down beside her, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers. The fan hummed softly above, but it didn’t drown the thoughts.
Maybe ask Arjun to do it.
The words replayed again. And again.
She turned on her side, hugging her pillow.
She wasn’t angry.
Not really.
She was just… confused.
What did I do to you, Ayaan?
She remembered the way he hadn’t even looked at her while saying it. Like she didn’t matter enough to deserve eye contact.
Her phone buzzed.
Her heart jumped before she could stop it.
A WhatsApp notification.
Not him.
She exhaled, disappointed at herself more than anything.
Why do I even care?
She sat up and unlocked her phone, scrolling mindlessly. Instagram stories. Group chats. Nothing felt interesting.
Her friend had messaged earlier:
“Tu thik hai? Ayaan was rude today.”
Tara had replied with a lie:
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
She replayed the morning instead—the notice board, the laugh, Arjun saying something stupid that made her laugh.
Was that so wrong?
She hadn’t been flirting. She hadn’t crossed any line.
And still—
somehow—
she was the one feeling guilty.
Tara opened her contacts, thumb hovering over a name she pretended she didn’t check anymore.
Ayaan.
She locked the phone instantly.
No. If he has a problem, he should say it.
She walked to the mirror, studying her reflection.
Her eyes looked tired. Not from studying—from thinking too much.
“Idiot,” she muttered. She didn’t know if she meant him or herself.
Later, lying in the dark, she thought of something Kabir had once said in class weeks ago:
“Sometimes people hurt you because they don’t know what they’re feeling.”
She scoffed softly.
That doesn’t make it okay.
Still… the thought lingered.
Maybe Ayaan wasn’t cruel.
Maybe he was just… bad at caring.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Her breath caught.
She picked it up.
Missed call.
One ring.
Her heart raced as she stared at the screen.
She knew that number.
Ayaan.
Too late to call back.
She placed the phone on her chest, eyes burning—not with tears this time, but with something sharper.
If he wanted to say something,
he should’ve said it when it mattered.
Tomorrow—
she decided—
she wouldn’t wait.
And she definitely wouldn’t let him hurt her again.
Ayaan's POV
The next morning, Ayaan didn’t joke.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t even put his earphones in.
Kabir noticed immediately.
“You’re going to talk to her,” Kabir said, not asking.
Ayaan nodded once. “Haan.”
They spotted Tara near the stairs, bag hugged close to her chest, talking to her friend. She looked normal.
That somehow made it harder.
Ayaan walked up.
“Tara.”
She turned.
Her expression went blank—not angry, not soft.
Just… distant.
“Kya hai?” she asked.
Kabir slowed his steps behind him, already sensing danger.
Ayaan cleared his throat. “Kal jo hua—”
She cut him off. “Agar class ke beech mein scene create karna tha, toh repeat karne ki zarurat nahi hai.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it?” she asked quietly.
Ayaan hesitated.
That was his mistake.
“I was just saying— you didn’t have to ask me,” he said. “You had other people.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Kabir shut his eyes.
Tara laughed once.
A hollow sound.
“So that’s your apology?” she asked. “Telling me I had better options?”
“That’s not—” Ayaan ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re twisting it.”
“No,” she said calmly. “You’re explaining it.”
Students were slowing down now. Watching.
Tara stepped closer, her voice low but sharp.
“If you didn’t want to help, you could’ve just said no. You didn’t have to embarrass me.”
Ayaan swallowed. “I was angry.”
“About what?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
Because the truth scared him.
Tara nodded slowly, understanding something she hadn’t wanted to.
“Right,” she said. “So this wasn’t about the notebook.”
She picked up her bag strap and turned to leave.
“Tara—”
She stopped but didn’t look back.
“Next time,” she said, voice steady, “don’t talk to me at all. That’ll be easier for both of us.”
And she walked away.
Kabir exhaled slowly.
“That,” he said, “was the worst possible way.”
Ayaan stared after her.
“I tried,” he whispered.
Kabir looked at him. “No. You defended yourself. That’s different.”
Ayaan’s phone buzzed.
Her contact disappeared.
Blocked.
He closed his eyes.
He’d wanted to fix things.
Instead, he’d just given her a reason to hate him.
_______
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