The next morning, Hazel sat at her desk, tapping her pen against an open notebook. She was supposed to be reviewing her notes, but her mind had other plans.
More specifically, it was stuck on last night.
Arav walking her home. Their banter. The way he had looked at her when she teased him about his car—equal parts exasperated and amused.
She shook her head, snapping herself out of it. This is not a big deal, Hazel. He’s just a guy. A guy who happens to be… kind of interesting.
With a sigh, she pushed herself up and grabbed her phone. Naina was still asleep, her blanket curled around her like a cocoon. Hazel smirked—morning conversations with her were impossible.
Deciding fresh air would help, she stepped out of the apartment and headed toward campus.
As she walked, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Arav: You free today?
She stopped mid-step. That was… unexpected.
Hazel: Depends. Are you planning on showing up on time today?
Arav: No promises.
Hazel rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
Hazel: What’s the plan?
Arav: Come to the court. You still owe me for doubting my basketball skills.
She scoffed out loud. Oh, we’re doing this now?
Still, she found herself changing direction, making her way to the college basketball court.
By the time she reached, Arav was already there, dressed in his usual hoodie and joggers, spinning a basketball on his fingertip. The sight was so effortlessly cool that Hazel had to remind herself not to look impressed.
He caught the ball when he spotted her. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
Hazel crossed her arms. “I didn’t think you actually played.”
Arav smirked. “Wanna find out?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you challenging me?”
“Wouldn’t call it a challenge,” he said, tossing the ball her way. “More like a reality check.”
Hazel caught it, feeling the weight in her hands. She wasn’t terrible at basketball, but she wasn’t great either. And something told her Arav knew that.
Still, she wasn’t about to back down.
“Fine,” she said, dribbling the ball once. “But if I score, you owe me coffee.”
Arav’s expression didn’t change, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Deal.”
Hazel took a step back, eyeing the hoop. She had one shot to prove she wasn’t completely useless at this. She took a deep breath, aimed, and—
The ball hit the rim, bouncing off with an unforgiving clank.
Arav barely held back his laugh. “That was tragic, Roy.”
She groaned. “Okay, in my defense, I was wearing boots.”
He smirked, taking the ball from her hands. “Excuses, excuses.”
Hazel huffed. “Alright, show-off, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Arav took his shot with effortless ease, the ball swishing clean through the net. Hazel hated how annoyingly good he was at this.
“Alright, fine,” she said, sighing. “I’ll admit it. You’re decent.”
“Decent?” Arav repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really bad at giving compliments, Roy.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “You’re good, okay? Happy?”
“Very.”
She scoffed but found herself laughing anyway. Maybe she should’ve known that meeting him today would just lead to him being impossible again.
And yet, here she was. Not regretting it one bit.
As Hazel shook her head at Arav’s smug expression, the sound of approaching voices caught her attention. A group of guys entered the court, talking and laughing—probably Arav’s friends from his team. But it wasn’t them that made the air feel different.
It was Meera.
She walked in like she belonged there, her eyes scanning the court before landing on Arav. For a split second, Hazel saw something flicker across his face—something unreadable.
"Didn’t know you were playing today," Meera said, stopping a few feet away. Her tone was light, but there was an edge beneath it.
Arav, who had been casually spinning the ball in his hands, only glanced at her. "Didn’t know I had to inform you."
Hazel blinked at the tension. It was subtle, but it was there—the kind of weight that made you feel like you had walked into the middle of something without realizing it.
One of Arav’s friends, a tall guy with a sharp jawline, chuckled. "Damn, man. Don’t be so cold."
Meera smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I was just surprised, that’s all. We haven’t played together in a while."
Hazel frowned slightly. Played together?
"Yeah, well," Arav said, tossing the ball to one of his teammates. "Haven’t had the time."
Meera’s fingers curled slightly at her sides, but her smile didn’t waver. "Right. You’ve been busy."
Hazel didn’t miss the way Meera’s gaze briefly flickered to her.
"Anyway," Meera continued, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I was actually looking for you earlier. Thought we could catch up."
Arav’s jaw tensed, but he simply said, "Maybe some other time."
Meera let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Right. Some other time."
Hazel didn’t know what was going on between them, but she knew one thing—this wasn’t just casual small talk. There was history here. And for the first time since she met Arav, she felt like she was seeing a different side of him.
One that wasn’t just reserved and quiet, but deliberately distant.
She wasn’t sure why, but it unsettled her.
As the game continued, Hazel decided to step back, leaning against the fence. The tension from earlier still lingered in her mind, but before she could overthink it, Meera casually walked over to her, her usual friendly smile in place.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Meera said lightly, crossing her arms.
Hazel glanced at her. "It's interesting. Didn’t know Arav was this serious about basketball."
Meera chuckled. "Oh, he is. We used to play together all the time." Her tone was casual, but there was something beneath it—something calculated.
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Meera nodded, shifting slightly as if choosing her words carefully. "Yeah, we go way back. Our families are pretty close, so we’ve always been in each other’s lives. He’s been through a lot, you know."
Hazel felt a small twist in her stomach at those words. I know, she wanted to say, but she didn’t.
Meera sighed dramatically. "But, you know… Arav doesn’t always talk about everything. He has this habit of keeping things bottled up. Even with people who’ve known him forever."
Hazel frowned slightly. "That doesn’t mean he owes anyone an explanation."
Meera tilted her head. "Of course not. I’m just saying... it’s easy to think you know someone when you really don’t."
Before Hazel could respond, Meera’s gaze flickered to Arav. "Anyway, I should go. See you around, Hazel."
With that, she walked away, leaving Hazel standing there, her mind buzzing.
Something about the way Meera said those words felt off. And when Hazel glanced back at Arav, she noticed something—he was watching them.
His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes. Something like surprise.
But he didn’t say anything. He just turned back to the game, as if nothing had happened at all.
Hazel sighed, pushing away the lingering thoughts Meera had planted in her mind. Not my problem, she told herself, deciding to shake it off. She had better things to do than decode vague warnings.
Turning on her heel, she made her way back to class, hoping the lecture would be enough of a distraction. As she settled into her seat, her phone vibrated with a notification.
Professor Kapoor: Reminder: Human Psychology project presentations are scheduled for tomorrow. Be prepared.
Hazel blinked at the message, then immediately opened her chat with Arav.
Hazel: We’re presenting tomorrow. You ready for this?
She watched as the typing indicator appeared for a second, then stopped. And then—
Arav: We don’t really have a choice, do we?
Hazel rolled her eyes.
Hazel: I take that as a no.
Arav: More like a ‘we’ll manage.’
She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. Typical.
Just then, another message popped up.
Arav: Meet after class? One final run-through.
Hazel hesitated for a moment before typing back.
Hazel: Fine. Don’t be late this time.
Arav’s reply came instantly.
Arav: No promises, Roy.
After class ,
Hazel spotted Arav as soon as she walked into the meeting spot—leaning against a pillar, phone pressed to his ear, his expression unusually tense.
She slowed her steps, hesitating. He wasn’t his usual composed self. His brows were furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he spoke lowly into the phone.
She couldn’t hear much, but a few words slipped through.
“…I told you, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Silence.
Then his grip on the phone tightened.
“No. I don’t care. Just—just don’t call me again.”
With that, he hung up, exhaling sharply before running a hand through his hair.
Hazel watched as he closed his eyes for a second, clearly frustrated. She debated whether to say something or pretend she hadn’t seen anything.
Before she could decide, Arav turned—and their eyes met.
For a second, his expression was unreadable. Then, just as quickly, he schooled it back into his usual calm mask.
“You’re early,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.
Hazel raised an eyebrow. “And you’re lying.”
Arav smirked slightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “About what?”
She crossed her arms. “About being fine.”
He let out a short breath, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just—family stuff.”
Hazel didn’t push. Not yet.
Instead, she tilted her head. “You sure you still want to do this? I can handle it if you need time.”
Arav glanced at her, something flickering in his eyes. Then he exhaled and shook his head. “No. Let’s get this over with.”
Hazel nodded, but the weight of whatever was bothering him lingered in the air. And for the first time, she found herself wondering—who had called him? And why did it shake him so much?
Hazel glanced up from her notes, stealing a look at Arav. He was sitting across from her, elbows resting on the table, but his eyes weren’t on their work. Instead, they were fixed on some distant point outside the window, unfocused, lost.
She had noticed it the entire time they had been preparing their presentation—his usual sharpness was dulled, his responses slower, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Arav," she called softly, tapping the pen against her notebook.
It took a second for him to blink and shift his gaze to her. "Hmm?"
"Are you even here?" she asked, tilting her head.
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it. "Yeah. Just… distracted."
Hazel didn’t push. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. But knowing him, that was unlikely. So instead, she closed her notebook and stretched her arms above her head.
"Well, we’re done, so let’s take a break," she announced, already standing up.
Arav raised an eyebrow. "A break?"
"Yeah, and before you argue, I’m getting coffee. You need one too," she said before he could protest.
Without waiting for his response, she walked toward the café counter. As she waited in line, her eyes flicked toward the pastry display, where an array of cookies and desserts sat neatly behind the glass. And that’s when she spotted it—
A cookie shaped like a grumpy-looking cat, its icing slightly smudged, making it look unintentionally funnier.
Hazel stared at it, then back at Arav, still brooding at their table.
A slow smile crept onto her lips.
—
A few minutes later, she returned to their table, placing a cup of black coffee in front of Arav along with a small paper bag.
He looked at her, mildly suspicious. "What’s this?"
"A gift," Hazel said with a casual shrug, sipping her own coffee.
Arav hesitated before opening the bag. The second he pulled out the cookie, Hazel bit her lip to hold back a laugh.
It was ridiculous—the frowning cat face, the slightly lopsided icing, the way it looked just annoyed enough to remind her of him.
Arav stared at it. Then at her. Then back at the cookie.
"...Are you serious?" he asked, blinking.
Hazel grinned. "It reminded me of you."
Arav exhaled, shaking his head. "You’re ridiculous."
"And yet," Hazel leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, "you’re still holding it."
Arav gave her a long, unimpressed look before finally—slowly—taking a bite.
Hazel snorted. "Well?"
He chewed, swallowed, then deadpanned, "Tastes like betrayal."
That was it. Hazel burst into laughter, nearly knocking over her coffee. The sight of Arav, usually composed and unreadable, sitting there with a half-eaten grumpy cat cookie in his hand, was too much.
Arav watched her, something flickering in his gaze—something softer.
"You needed that," Hazel finally said, wiping at her eye.
Arav sighed, shaking his head but taking another bite anyway. "You’re impossible, Roy."
Hazel lifted her cup. "And yet, here we are."
For the first time that day, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. And as they sat there, sharing a quiet moment, Hazel realized something—this was the first time she had truly seen Arav laugh.
And for some reason, that made her want to see it again.
After their unexpected moment of laughter, Hazel and Arav got back to finishing their work. The tension from earlier had eased, and though Arav still wasn’t as talkative as usual, he was at least present now—not lost in his thoughts like before.
By the time they wrapped up, the café had started emptying out. Hazel stretched her arms, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Finally done."
Arav nodded, stacking up his notes. "Yeah. We should be good for tomorrow."
As they stepped outside, the air was colder than before, a sharp reminder that winter was creeping in. Hazel wrapped her coat tighter around herself.
"Heading home?" Arav asked, adjusting the strap of his bag.
"Yeah, it’s been a long day," she replied.
He gave her a nod. "Alright. See you tomorrow, Roy."
Hazel smirked. "Try not to get lost in your thoughts again."
Arav rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he just turned and walked away, hands in his pockets. Hazel watched him for a moment before heading toward her own apartment.
—
Later that night, after showering and slipping into her warmest pajamas, Hazel collapsed onto her bed. She reached for her phone to scroll mindlessly before sleeping, but the screen lit up with an unexpected notification.
Arav: Thanks for today.
Hazel blinked. He wasn’t exactly the type to send texts like this.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed back.
Hazel: For what? The project or the cookie?
A minute later, her screen lit up again.
Arav: Both.
She stared at the message for a second longer than necessary before locking her phone and setting it aside.
For some reason, she could still picture the way he had laughed.
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