The library was quiet, except for the faint rustle of papers and the tapping of keyboards.
Pearl sat at one of the study tables, flipping through pages of notes, trying to focus. She couldn't help but glance at Vansh, sitting across from her, scribbling furiously in his notebook but not acknowledging her. Not even a look.
The project on Indian economic history, due tomorrow, was a disaster. But that didn't seem to matter to him. He was still ignoring her, as if yesterday hadn't happened—as if she didn't matter.
The silence between them was suffocating.
She tried to push down the irritation bubbling inside her, focusing instead on the words in her textbook. But it wasn't working. Every time she looked up, he was there. His presence felt like a storm, but he wouldn't let her in.
A group of students passed by, laughing, but Pearl barely heard them. Her mind kept drifting back to what happened earlier in the day—the cold words, the broken silence between them.
She couldn't understand it. They had been so close. He had been the one person who understood her, who made her feel like she wasn't alone. And now, it was like she didn't exist.
Frustrated, she slammed her notebook shut, causing a few people to glance at her. Vansh didn't even flinch.
"You're seriously going to pretend this is fine?" she finally snapped, her voice low but sharp.
Vansh didn't look up from his work. He was still scribbling notes, but Pearl could see the tension in his jaw. "I'm working," he muttered, like she hadn't spoken.
Pearl's blood boiled. Working? Was that all this was to him now? Work? School? The project?
The silence between them stretched longer than she could bear.
"Vansh, this isn't just about the project," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. But the words felt like they had weight. "Why are you doing this?"
His pen froze on the page, but he didn't look at her. "Doing what?"
She leaned forward, trying to keep her voice steady. "Ignoring me. Pretending like we're strangers. What did I do?"
He finally looked at her then—his eyes dark, guarded. "You didn't do anything," he said, each word carefully measured, like he was trying to control the storm building in his chest. "I'm just… trying to get this done."
Pearl stared at him, feeling a cold emptiness settle in her chest. "So that's it? We're just supposed to act like everything's normal?"
He gritted his teeth, putting his pen down with a sharp click. "Maybe it should be normal," he said, voice tight, low. "Maybe it's easier if we just act like it never happened."
Her heart twisted in her chest. She wasn't sure what hurt more—the words or the tone. But she wasn't backing down now. She couldn't.
"Why do you keep doing this?" she asked, her voice almost pleading, though she hated how vulnerable she sounded. "Why are you pushing me away?"
Vansh finally met her gaze, his eyes dark with something Pearl couldn't quite place—anger, frustration, maybe something deeper.
"You don't understand," he said, voice barely audible. "I'm trying to protect you."
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Protect me? From what?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but then froze, like the words were caught in his throat. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating.
Before she could press him further, the sound of a book crashing onto the floor broke the moment. Pearl turned her head just as a student from another table knocked over a stack of books, and when they looked back, Vansh was gone.
Just like that.
Pearl sat there for a moment, stunned. She looked down at the project on the desk—the project that was supposed to be about economic history, but had turned into something entirely different. She had no idea what had just happened. But the spark—whatever it was—was there.
Her hand shook slightly as she reached for her notes. Something wasn't right. She could feel it deep in her gut. Vansh wasn't just avoiding her; he was hiding something. And it had everything to do with the way he was pulling away.
She stood up quickly, grabbing her things, but before she could leave, she felt a strange pull to the back of the library.
Vansh backpack was still there.
Her curiosity got the better of her, and before she could stop herself, she approached his bag. She didn't know why she did it, but something felt off. Something told her that whatever he was keeping from her was buried inside this bag.
Her heart raced as she unzipped it, her hands trembling slightly.
And that's when she found it.
A folder, stuffed with documents, some sealed with a red stamp.
Pearl's breath caught in her throat as she opened the folder. There, in black and white, was a list of names—and hers was one of them