The first time Veer changed his route to class; it felt like coincidence. The second time, he lied to himself. But by the third, when he found himself standing near the lab at 9:55 sharp—just when Aaradhya's practical began—he stopped pretending.
It wasn't subtle, and it wasn't smart.
It was just desperate.
Aaradhya hadn't even noticed him yet. Not properly. She might've caught him once or twice, lingering near the stairwell, or sitting in the courtyard she passed through daily. But if she did, she gave no sign.
Veer wasn't used to being invisible.
He was used to stares. Fear. Respect. The quiet hush that fell when he entered a room, the way people sidestepped him like a shadow they didn't want to touch. That's how it had always been, ever since his name started meaning something in the college corridors.
But Aaradhya—she didn't look at him like that.
She didn't look at him at all.
It started small.
Veer would walk past the lab twice during her class slot, holding a file he didn't need. He'd stop by the photocopy shop when she was in the admin block, pretending to check for papers he hadn't submitted. One day, he walked straight into the gynaecology department just as she exited, heart racing, hoping for a glance. A reaction.
Nothing.
She brushed past him once. Her bag hit his arm. She didn't even turn.
It stung. In a weird, juvenile, painful way.
He told himself it wasn't about ego.
It was about recognition. About the fact that she had once looked at him like he mattered—in that restaurant, in that accidental touch—and now she didn't even register him.
And maybe that was worse than hatred.
Veer sat under the banyan tree near the life sciences building, a notebook open on his lap, pen tapping restlessly. Across the lawn, the glass doors of the lab reflected the sun like fire. He'd timed it again. Her class would end in exactly five minutes.
He watched the doors like someone waiting for a dream to walk out.
Sure enough, Aaradhya appeared.
Hair in a loose braid, a lab coat over her blue kurti, her steps brisk like always. She was talking to a girl beside her, laughing about something. Veer's heart did that ridiculous skip again.
He stood up.
Walked.
Casually, just enough to make it look accidental.
He timed it perfectly—passed her right when they reached the water cooler.
She didn't stop.
She didn't even blink.
His steps slowed. Then stopped. The heat pressed down harder than before.
He turned, frustrated, and walked back toward the cafeteria, trying not to feel like a character chasing his own subplot.
That evening, Aakarsh found him in the gym, throwing punches at the bag like it had personally insulted his soul.
"Alright," Aakarsh said, leaning against the door, arms crossed. "What did the punching bag do this time?"
Veer didn't answer. Just hit harder.
"You saw her again today, didn't you?"
Veer exhaled sharply. Glanced sideways. "She didn't see me."
Aakarsh didn't say anything for a moment.
Then, quietly, "You know you can just talk to her, right?"
"Talk?" Veer gave a bitter laugh. "I can't even exist near her without feeling like I'm malfunctioning."
"You sure it's not guilt?"
"What guilt?"
"That you're not the guy you think she deserves."
That shut him up.
The next morning, Veer arrived ten minutes early outside the life science block.
He leaned against the railing, pretending to check something on his phone. His bike was parked near the gate, a calculated angle so that it would catch Aaradhya's eye if she walked her usual route.
She did.
But she was talking to Aaditya.
Veer's hand curled around his phone so tightly he nearly cracked the screen.
Aaditya was saying something stupid—probably one of those low-effort jokes Veer hated. But Aaradhya laughed. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Looked at Aaditya the way Veer had imagined her looking at him.
For a moment, the world tilted.
Then Veer did something impulsive.
He walked straight past them. Let his shoulder barely brush Aaditya's. Didn't stop.
It worked.
Aaradhya paused. Looked back.
Just for a second.
But it was enough to light a wildfire in his chest.
Later, alone in his room, Veer sat by the window.
He thought about what he was doing.
Following her. Watching her. Waiting like a fool.
It wasn't love.
It was longing. Ache. The need to be seen by the one person who made his carefully crafted exterior crumble.
And somewhere deep down, a darker thought lingered:
What was happening to him? He's was not able to remember a lot of things he did these days.
He don't want to be the brooding boy watching Aaradhya from afar? Like a misunderstood villain? Being a shadow in someone else's love story?
He didn't want that.
He didn't want to haunt her.
He wanted to hold her hand.
He wanted her to look at him and remember that day at the palace.
He wanted her to know he wasn't pretending. That every stupid detour, every silent gaze, every time he waited for her voice in a hallway he didn't need to be in—
It was real.
His feelings are real.
And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop letting the time take it's course.
Maybe it was time he starts mingling with her.