Observations from the Outside

PROFESSOR RINA KHOSLA – Department of Behavioral Sciences

Tara Vyas and Kian Raheja.

They were a professor’s dream and nightmare rolled into one nuclear rivalry.

Top of every test. First to raise their hand. Last to leave a discussion. They didn’t just want to be right—they wanted to outshine each other doing it. Their grades had been dancing between a 98 and a 99.5 since the first semester.

In my twenty-two years of teaching, I’d never seen academic competitiveness this... personal.

They didn’t date. They didn’t party. They didn’t crumble under pressure.

They competed like they were born to dethrone each other.

And the irony?

They’d make a hell of a team—if they didn’t kill each other first.

So yes, I assigned them the joint midterm project.

Call it curiosity. Call it chaos.

Call it... necessary.

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RAYAN DESHMUKH – Groupmate, occasional witness to the madness

They weren’t just rivals.

They were like fire and ice in human form. Tara with her laser focus and don’t-talk-to-me energy, and Kian with that annoying calmness and villain-level charm.

I once saw them argue for 30 minutes over font size in a shared Google Doc. I’m not joking. Font. Size.

Everyone in class had a bet going:

• When would they finally snap?

• When would one of them get kicked out for throwing a textbook?

• When would they just kiss and get it over with?

Answer so far: Never. They’d rather die.

I sit three seats behind them, and it’s like watching two nuclear reactors eyeing each other across a control panel. Honestly, it's exhausting. But also... kind of thrilling.

Like watching an enemies-to-lovers drama unfold in real time.

I’m just here for the show.

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MEHER GULATI – Student Council President & Victim of their Club Debate War

I banned them from being on the same debate team.

I had to.

The last time I let that happen, Kian rewrote the entire speech five minutes before going on stage, and Tara threatened to walk out mid-performance. She didn’t, of course. She stayed, delivered the best closing argument we’ve ever seen, and then stormed out without waiting for the trophy.

The worst part?

They won. Obviously.

The best part?

They didn't speak the entire time. Just glared. Like they had psychic beef.

They're both terrifying, and somehow, the backbone of every competition this university has.

Whatever project they're being forced to do together now... God help us ......

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MRS. LATA MENON – Campus Librarian (Since 1998)

POV: Chapter 2

The thing about young people is—they always think they’re being subtle.

Especially the smart ones. Especially the loud ones who fight in silence.

Tara Vyas and Kian Raheja? Oh, I noticed them long before anyone else did.

They’ve been haunting my library for three years now. Always in early. Always out late. Always sitting just close enough to clash and just far enough to deny it.

In Chapter 2—though of course they’d never call it that—I saw it again.

Tara with her flashcards, scribbling like the answers were running from her.

Kian pretending to read but watching her like she was the exam.

And then he spoke.

Something smug, no doubt. He always speaks when she’s too focused. Like he needs to break her rhythm just to prove he can.

She snapped back. He grinned.

Then she stormed off like she’d lost a war—but I could tell, she’d won something too.

It’s a strange sort of dance they do. They think it’s war.

I think it’s... something else.

No flirting. Not yet.

No softness. But maybe—just maybe—a quiet curiosity growing between the cracks of their pride.

I’m not nosy. I’m observant. And observation tells me this: