Chapter 4 — The Unread Poem

The next morning, Arjun sat at his desk, staring at a blank page in his notebook. The library encounter with Rayan from the previous evening had replayed in his mind a thousand times. Every detail—Rayan’s intense gaze, the soft smile, the brief touch on his notebook—had left an indelible mark on him.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began to write, letting his thoughts flow freely. Words that had remained locked inside his chest poured out effortlessly, forming lines of a poem that spoke of longing, admiration, and a fear of vulnerability. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine handing it to Rayan, watching him read every word with that calm, attentive expression that made Arjun’s heart thrum.

But then reality intruded. No. I can’t. Not yet.

Arjun folded the poem carefully and placed it in the middle drawer of his desk, hidden from view. The thought of Rayan reading it too soon, of someone seeing his raw emotions before he was ready, sent a shiver down his spine.

Class passed in a blur. Arjun found it nearly impossible to focus, his eyes repeatedly drifting toward the front of the room, where Rayan moved gracefully, explaining literary devices with effortless charm. Every glance Rayan threw his way felt deliberate, and Arjun’s pulse quickened with a mix of anticipation and dread.

During the break, Arjun noticed Aarav lingering nearby, seemingly pretending to read a book while keeping one eye on him. A wave of irritation—and something sharper, more possessive—rippled through him. He hated that even this minor attention from another student could make his stomach twist. He tried to ignore it, but his thoughts inevitably returned to Rayan.

Later, as he returned to the library to revise his essay, he was surprised to find Rayan already there, sitting at a quiet corner table. The professor looked up, offering him a small, encouraging smile.

“You’re here early,” Arjun said, trying to mask the nervousness in his voice.

“I like to see dedication,” Rayan replied softly. “But also… to make sure you don’t push yourself too hard.”

Arjun felt a warmth in his chest, a strange combination of pride and embarrassment. “I… I finished my draft last night,” he admitted, glancing at Rayan. “I think it’s… okay.”

Rayan leaned over to glance at his notebook. “Let me see.”

Arjun hesitated. The poem he had written last night was still fresh in his mind, unshared, but now it seemed relevant, a reflection of the emotions swirling between them. He decided against showing it—his feelings were too fragile, too raw, too untested.

“Maybe… not yet,” he said softly, hiding the poem behind the notebook.

Rayan’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment, dark and unreadable. Then he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I understand. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll read anything you want me to.”

The words were simple, but they struck Arjun like a gentle promise. He felt an unexpected relief, mixed with a nervous anticipation. He wanted to trust Rayan, to let him in, but the fear of being vulnerable still held him back.

As he packed his bag to leave, Arjun’s phone buzzed. A message from Kia appeared:

So… did you finally give him the poem? Or are you still chicken?

Arjun typed back quickly, his fingers trembling slightly. Still chicken. Maybe next time.

Next time? 😏 You’ve got a long way to go, Romeo.

Arjun shook his head, a small, reluctant smile forming. Kia’s teasing made him feel a little less alone in the storm of feelings swirling inside him. But as he stepped out into the fading afternoon light, his thoughts returned, as always, to Rayan Kapoor.

Somehow, he knew that the unread poem was only the beginning—and that the real story, the one that mattered most, had yet to be written.

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