First meet

As I walked toward her, the seniors noticed me. Their expressions instantly soured—it was obvious my presence irritated them.

I didn’t stop. I came forward and stood right in front of her, making it clear: I wasn’t leaving her alone. Not when she looked so nervous, so uneasy around all the attention.

“Oii, think you’re some kind of hero?” one of them scoffed.

“No, no,” I replied smoothly, pulling out the assignment from yesterday and handing it over.

“Well done,” one of the seniors said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Seems like we’ve got ourselves free labour.”

I smiled—too sweetly. “Yeah, yeah. The kind who can even print your names in golden ink for not being able to do your own work.”

Their fake smiles slipped into serious expressions. “Know your place, fresher. Don’t mess with things you can’t control.”

“Can’t control? What?” I tilted my head, smirk widening, my tone deliberately light but mocking. My only goal was clear—to drag their attention away from her and onto me. If anyone was going to face trouble, it wouldn’t be her.

And judging by their clenched jaws, I had succeeded.

They were about to throw a punch, the attender appeared—the one in charge of ensuring no fights on campus. And right then, the bell rang. Perfect timing. I smirked, knowing the situation had tilted in my favor.

But of course, that didn’t stop them. They simply passed the job to some other seniors, who dumped their assignments on me.

Like hell. I wasn’t interested in fighting them—not because I couldn’t, but because I’d promised my dad I wouldn’t screw up this time. Still, these endless assignments? I shook my head in irritation.

I turned, hoping to finally speak to her. But she was gone. Just like that.

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath. “Did all that just to talk to her, and she runs away.”

With a sigh, I gathered the assignments and headed to class.

Later, after classes ended, I made my way back to the library. Again. Same chair. Same pile of useless work. I started scribbling, lost in the monotony, when I felt a presence in front of me.

I looked up—my throat tightened, my body stiffened. It was her.

The red kurti girl.

Shut up, Viaan. She has a name.

And then—for the first time—she spoke.

“Hi… I’m Anvi,” she said, her voice soft, gentle, offering me a handshake.

I couldn’t help but smile as I took her hand. “Viaan. You might’ve heard of me already.”

The way she blinked, confused, and shook her head told me everything. She hadn’t. Not even once. My smile faltered, turning into a tight one. Guess my reputation wasn’t as big as I thought.

Without another word, she sat across from me, picked up two of the assignment books, and started writing.

“Hey… it’s okay, I can manage,” I said quickly.

“It’s okay. You got this because of me. I’ll help you.”

“No, it’s not because of you. I chose this, so chill. I’ll do it myself—”

But she looked at me firmly, her eyes leaving no room for argument.

And for the first time in a long time, I shut my mouth.

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