The Monster Who Loved Me

the monster in last row

Crescent Hill Academy – 11:15 AM

The sun filtered in through tall classroom windows, landing softly on rows of dark blue desks and perfectly lined chairs. The silence was thick, the kind that made even the ticking clock sound louder than necessary.

Except for the voice of one girl.

“...and I swear, ma’am, it wasn’t my fault the paint spilled all over the model. Riya dared me to twirl with the brush in my hand!” Meher Sharma’s voice chirped through the room like a bird that had no concept of volume control.

Laughter bubbled from the class. Miss Fernandez rolled her eyes and waved Meher off with an exhausted sigh. “Just sit down, Sharma, before you paint your words all over the room too.”

Meher grinned and walked to her seat—middle row, center column. Perfect for attention. She dropped her bag with a soft thud, leaned back in her chair, and immediately turned to whisper something to the girl beside her.

That’s when she noticed him.

In the very last row, near the window, sat a boy who looked like he belonged to a different world entirely.

Head down. Arms crossed. Eyes fixed out the window, unbothered by the class, the chatter, the teacher, or even the bell that had just rung.

Arav Malhotra.

The name came with stories. That he owned the company that sponsored the school’s new auditorium. That his family was richer than any Bollywood star. That he once broke a boy’s nose in eighth grade and didn’t flinch. That no girl ever dared talk to him.

They called him “The Monster.”

Cold eyes. No emotions. A walking iceberg.

Meher tilted her head, studying him like he was a math problem that didn’t make sense. “Is he always this… dramatically silent?” she whispered to Riya.

“He doesn’t talk,” Riya whispered back. “Like, ever. You could yell in his face, and he’ll still look at you like you’re dust.”

“Hmm,” Meher tapped her pen against her notebook. “Interesting. Emotionally constipated or mysterious?”

“Definitely scary.”

Meher grinned.

---

After Class – 1:00 PM

It was during lunch break when the twist came.

Miss Fernandez marched in, holding a clipboard like it was a sword. “Class, for the annual science exhibition, I’ve paired you up. And I don’t want complaints.”

Names were called. Students groaned or cheered.

Then:

“Meher Sharma and Arav Malhotra.”

The room froze.

Even Meher blinked in surprise.

All eyes turned to the last row. Arav didn’t react. He didn’t even lift his head.

Miss Fernandez tapped her foot. “Did you hear me, Malhotra?”

He raised his eyes—calm, unreadable, and colder than steel. “Yes, ma’am.”

Meher stood awkwardly. “Um… hello, partner?”

Arav’s eyes slid toward her. One second. Two. No smile. No nod. Just... a look. Then he picked up his notebook and walked out of the class.

“Wow,” she mumbled to herself. “That’s the rudest hello I’ve ever received.”

But something about him—his silence, his distance—didn’t scare her. It fascinated her.