The hum of machines filled the room, bright screens casting glows on focused faces. Siyara adjusted her specs, typing quickly as the professor began calling out names.
Professor:
“You’ll be working in pairs for the upcoming interface design project. No switching partners.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
Siyara barely reacted, jotting something on her work diary and waiting.
Professor:
“Siyara Banerjee… paired with Raj Oberoi.”
She glanced sideways as a boy stood up—tall, clean-cut, with a quiet kind of charm. He wore confidence like a second skin, not loud but unmistakable.
Abhinash Oberoi
(walking over):
“Hey. Siyara, right?”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(smiling politely):
“Yeah. Looks like we’re coding together.”
Abhinash Oberoi
(sitting beside her):
“Lucky me. I’ve seen your notes—sharp stuff.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She giggled softly, tucking her hair behind her ear.*
Three seats behind, Yuvraj’s pen stopped moving. His gaze lifted, jaw tight. Siyara’s laugh, so sweet, so unaware—it hit something raw.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(thinking):
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Him? Of all people?”
The lecture rolled on, but Yuvraj didn’t hear a word.
After class, outside the lab, he caught up to her.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(casually):
“So… Mr. Rajasthan got your number yet?”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(raising an eyebrow):
“What?”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(leaning closer):
“I mean, the way you were giggling… seemed like you were more interested in him than the project.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(coolly):
“Why do you care?”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“Maybe I don’t.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(turning to leave):
“Then don’t act like you do.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*His hand shot out—not rough, not soft—just enough to stop her.*
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(low voice):
“You smile too easily.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(without blinking):
“And you judge too fast.”
Their eyes locked.
Long.
Burning.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*She pulled away. But her heart stayed behind in his grip.*
Later that night, her phone buzzed.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
*Message*
>“He won’t understand you like I do.”
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
*Message*
(typing… then deleting… then typing again):
typing ....>“Maybe he doesn’t need to.”
She didn’t send it.
She just stared at his message.
And her heart ached for something… she didn’t even have yet.
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