chapter 4 - obsession

It had been four days since the fest.

Four days since Bhavik Joshi stopped talking to her.

Stopped looking.

Stopped existing in her world — or more accurately, acted like she no longer existed in his.

So Sanshita did what any girl with pride would do: she mirrored him.

She stopped searching for him in crowded corridors.

Stopped waiting for “Moon Girl.”

Stopped allowing him space in her thoughts… at least, tried to.

But trying not to think of Bhavik Joshi was like trying not to notice a storm when you’re standing under the sky.

He was everywhere.

And worse — now he was watching her.

At first, she thought she was imagining it. The way his eyes flicked toward her when she passed by. How he showed up near the staircase right when she walked out of class. How he stood in the back of the library one afternoon, unmoving, gaze sharp.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t smile.

But he watched.

From behind people, across the room, hidden in shadows — like he wanted to be near her without being caught.

And she wasn’t sure what hurt more — the silence… or the staring.

Meanwhile, Nishant had started talking to her more.

Bhavik’s best friend. Charming, warm, safe.

He made her laugh without trying too hard.

He noticed when her shoelace was untied, or when she was carrying too many books.

“Ever thought of joining the drama club?” he asked one afternoon, walking beside her. “You’ve got that thoughtful, mysterious main character energy.”

She smiled. “I think I’m more of a background prop girl.”

“Even background girls get noticed by the right people,” he replied, his voice soft.

And for the first time in days, Sanshita felt something loosen in her chest.

But when she glanced across the corridor and saw Bhavik staring at them, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable —

that looseness snapped tight again.

He turned away sharply. Walked off like fire was chasing him.

That evening, Bhavik paced his room, jaw tense.

He didn’t understand what was wrong with him.

He didn’t want to care.

But he did. And now, she was laughing with Nishant.

Nishant, who didn’t know her the way he did.

Who hadn’t seen her hold a glittery moon like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

Who hadn’t heard her voice crack when she said, “I carry shiny stuff and try not to drop it.”

And worst of all — she seemed okay now.

Without him.

It made something inside Bhavik ache — sharp and stupid.

He sat down, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote before he could stop himself.

No name. No context.

“You’re not as invisible as you think.”

He folded it once, twice.

And slipped it into her locker the next morning before anyone saw.

When Sanshita found it, her fingers trembled.

She read it again and again.

The handwriting wasn’t neat — it was rushed, almost angry.

But she knew.

It was him.

And for the first time since the fest, she felt his presence not just behind her eyes —

but under her skin.

Something had changed.

And it was only just beginning.

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