Chapter 5: The Fear of Change

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the schoolyard as the final bell rang. Maya was stuffing her books into her bag when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey! Maya, wait up!" Kian's voice called from behind her.

She turned to see him jogging toward her, that crooked grin she was starting to find far too familiar playing on his lips. Vivaan had been walking with her moments ago, rambling about some cartoon fight scene, but she’d excused herself when she noticed Kian hanging back alone near the water tap.

"Didn’t expect you to ditch your fanboy so soon," Kian teased, nudging her with his shoulder.

Maya rolled her eyes. "He was just being dramatic again. Besides, you looked... lonely."

There was a pause. It was the kind of silence that hummed with comfort rather than awkwardness.

Kian didn’t tease her this time. “I liked that.”

“Huh?”

“When you stopped walking with him,” he said quietly, glancing ahead. “Felt like... you chose me.”

Maya blinked, unsure why her cheeks suddenly felt too warm. “Don’t be silly.”

But he wasn’t. His heart had done a little flip.

They walked side by side for a while, listening to the leaves crunch under their feet. Then, Kian suddenly kicked at a rock, sending it flying across the path.

“My mom’s being annoying,” he said bluntly.

Maya tilted her head. “What now?”

“She’s talking about coaching classes. Says I need to start soon. All because bhai failed his half-yearlies. Like... how’s that my fault?”

Maya frowned. “You’re only in class five.”

“I know, right?” Kian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But she’s already started calling some sir who teaches in town. Mornings on weekends, even evenings sometimes.”

“So... you won’t be free to play?” she asked, quieter than she intended.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “Unless…”

He looked at her with that spark of mischief she’d come to expect.

“You could join too.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. You’re always worried about science marks, right? We could go together. Sit next to each other. Make it fun.”

Maya laughed softly. “Coaching and fun don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“But with me it will be,” he grinned, winking.

She shoved him playfully. “You’re impossible.”

Their laughter faded into the soft sounds of birds calling from the trees. As they neared the school gate, Maya noticed the way Kian’s smile dimmed.

"Is it that bad at home?" she asked gently.

Kian shrugged. “Bhai’s always getting shouted at these days. Dad doesn’t come home much. And Mom keeps saying stuff like—‘you’ll end up like him if I don’t act now.’ Like I’m some broken thing that needs fixing.”

Maya stayed quiet. Then she reached out and gently touched his wrist.

“You’re not broken,” she said firmly.

Kian glanced at her, eyes wide for a moment. Then he looked away quickly.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

That night, Maya lay curled on her side, the fan creaking above her. Her study lamp was still on, but her notebook remained untouched.

Her mind wandered back to Kian’s words. You’re not broken.

It had sounded like something she should’ve said to herself.

She sat up, pulling her blanket around her shoulders, and stared at the window. Coaching. It wasn’t something she had thought about seriously. Her parents were stricter with her elder brother, but with Maya, they still measured pressure in teaspoons, not buckets.

Yet… if Kian wasn’t around on weekends and evenings, she’d feel his absence like a space that didn’t know how to stay empty.

She sighed and tiptoed to the hall where her mother was folding clothes.

“Maa… can I ask something?”

Her mother glanced up. “Hmm?”

“There’s this science sir… a lot of students go to him. Kian is going too.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “And you suddenly care about science?”

Maya smiled sheepishly. “Well, I do want to improve…”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Or you want to follow that Kian boy?”

Maya flushed. “No—! I mean yes—but not in that way. He’s just... it’s just—”

Her mother laughed. “Fine. Try it out. If it helps you focus, then continue.”

Maya blinked. That was easier than she expected.

The next morning, Maya stood awkwardly beside Kian outside a small tuition building nestled between a grocery shop and a cyber café. The walls were faintly yellow, and the stairs creaked as they climbed.

“I can’t believe you actually came,” Kian whispered, elbowing her.

“I’m regretting it already.”

They found seats near the back. Maya noticed how Kian leaned a bit closer when the teacher began, whispering stupid jokes in between notes. She’d glare at him, but the corners of her lips would betray her with a smile.

But the session wasn’t what she feared. In fact, the teacher made things easier to understand. She jotted notes neatly, aware of Kian’s fingers occasionally tapping the edge of her notebook.

She glanced sideways.

He looked... serious.

Focused.

Different.

Not the Kian who pulled her braid or raced her to the water cooler.

The session ended sooner than she expected. Outside, the world looked slightly duller.

“So?” Kian asked.

She shrugged. “It was okay.”

He smirked. “You liked sitting next to me.”

She turned away quickly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nope,” he said, falling into step beside her. “I saw you smile.”

Over the next few weeks, the coaching routine slipped into their lives like an unnoticed vine—quiet, but slowly growing. They began meeting less at the park. Their evening talks shortened. Sometimes Kian looked tired, distracted, and Maya felt something unfamiliar gnawing inside her.

One Sunday, as she waited for him outside the tuition gate, he didn’t show up.

She called him. No answer.

She asked the sir. “Kian had a fever,” he said. “His mom called in.”

Something in her twisted.

She walked home alone that day.

---

Later that night, her phone buzzed.

Kian: Sorry. Slept the whole day. Feeling meh.

Maya: Did you eat?

Kian: A little.

Maya: You could’ve at least told me you won’t come.

A pause.