Chapter 3 — The Library Encounter

The library smelled faintly of old pages and polished wood, a comforting scent that usually put Arjun at ease. But today, the familiar environment only heightened his nerves. He had stayed late, determined to finish his essay on Romantic literature before the next lecture, yet his thoughts kept drifting toward Rayan Kapoor.

Arjun sank into a chair by the large window, his notebook open, pen hovering over the page. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked toward the door, half-expecting Rayan to appear at any moment. His heart skipped when he remembered their brief conversation in class yesterday—the way Rayan’s eyes had lingered on his essay, the soft smile that seemed meant only for him.

“Still here, Arjun?”

Arjun jumped at the voice. Aarav, a senior student known for his teasing nature, leaned against the bookshelf, smirking. “You’re really working late? Must be nice to have all this free time.”

“I… I have a deadline,” Arjun muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Aarav chuckled but left, leaving Arjun’s chest still racing. He returned his attention to his essay, trying to force the words to make sense on paper. But his thoughts were interrupted again by the soft echo of footsteps on the wooden floor.

Rayan Kapoor.

Arjun’s breath caught in his throat. The professor appeared silently, holding a few books and a stack of papers. “Mind if I sit?” Rayan asked, voice low, almost conspiratorial.

“Uh… sure,” Arjun managed, sliding his notebook slightly toward him.

Rayan settled across from him, placing the papers neatly on the table. He glanced at Arjun’s notes, then back at him, his dark eyes intense but not intimidating. “You have a good understanding of symbolism, but your analysis could go deeper. You’re holding back something… something that could make your writing unforgettable.”

Arjun felt heat rise to his cheeks. “I… I guess I’m not used to someone noticing that.”

“Noticing is the first step,” Rayan said, a faint smile playing at his lips. “But it takes courage to put it into words.”

The closeness, the attention—it made Arjun’s pulse quicken. He wanted to speak, to confess something he hadn’t admitted to anyone, yet the words lodged themselves stubbornly in his throat. Instead, he nodded, trying to appear calm while his heart betrayed him with every beat.

Rayan reached across the table, lightly adjusting a page in Arjun’s notebook. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through Arjun’s body. He looked up, catching Rayan’s gaze, and for a moment, the rest of the library seemed to vanish.

“I… I wrote something,” Arjun said finally, almost whispering. “A… poem. But I didn’t send it. It’s… private.”

Rayan raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across his face. “Would you like me to read it?”

Arjun shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet.” His cheeks burned, and he felt suddenly exposed, as if Rayan could see his very thoughts laid bare.

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken words. The soft ticking of the wall clock and the distant rustle of pages were the only sounds in the quiet library. Arjun felt a pang of jealousy rise unexpectedly. Aarav’s earlier presence, harmless as it might have been, had left a strange residue. Rayan noticed the tension but didn’t comment, simply observing him with a quiet patience that both comforted and unnerved Arjun.

As the evening sun cast long shadows across the wooden floor, Rayan finally spoke. “You’re afraid of revealing too much. I get it. But trust is built slowly. And sometimes, it starts with one small step.”

Arjun nodded, unable to respond verbally. He felt the pull of something he couldn’t name—fear, desire, curiosity, all tangled together. And for the first time, he realized that this semester might not just be about essays and literature. It could be about something far more complicated… far more dangerous to his carefully ordered world.

He didn’t know if he was ready for it. But as he watched Rayan gather his books and rise, a strange, thrilling certainty settled over him: he wanted to be.

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