It was a Saturday afternoon when Karthik found himself standing awkwardly at the threshold of a very different world—Ananya's world.
She had invited him over. Not for a date, not for homework, just… to hang out. Simple on paper, terrifying in real life.
Her house was bigger than his. White walls, quiet hallways, and a strange smell of lavender and freshly cleaned marble. Her mother greeted him politely, though her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary.
"So, you're the one," she said.
Karthik stiffened. "The one?"
Ananya swooped in, dragging him away before her mom could elaborate. "Ignore her," she whispered. "She watches too many serials."
They ended up in her room, a space decorated with books, movie posters, and tiny fairy lights. On her desk sat an old framed photo of her as a child—hair tied in two tight braids, sitting beside a serious-looking man.
"My dad," she said, noticing his gaze. "He's in Dubai now. Visits once a year, maybe."
Karthik nodded. He didn't know what to say. Ananya sat cross-legged on her bed, patting the space beside her.
"Come. Let's be useless together."
He smiled and joined her.
They watched a rom-com on her laptop, occasionally commenting, occasionally falling silent. And in those moments of quiet, Karthik realized how different her world was—confident, expressive, full of color.
He wondered how he fit into it.
"Do you ever feel like… you're playing catch-up?" he asked suddenly.
She paused the movie.
"With you," he continued. "Like you're always two steps ahead. Always glowing. And I'm just—"
"Karthik."
He looked up.
"You're not behind me. You're walking with me."
"But I don't feel like I belong here."
"You don't have to belong here," she said gently. "You belong with me. That's enough."
He stared at her. She was looking at him so earnestly, not a trace of judgment. Just quiet certainty.
"You make me feel like I'm allowed to exist fully," she added. "Not as a model. Not as the popular girl. Just… me."
Karthik felt a lump rise in his throat. He wasn't used to being someone's safe place. Not like this.
"I don't want to lose this," he said quietly.
"You won't," she replied.
The laptop screen dimmed. Outside, clouds began to gather—rain threatening, like always in Chennai's moody evenings. But inside that room, time slowed.
They didn't kiss. They didn't hold hands. But as they sat close, shoulders almost touching, a new understanding settled between them.
They weren't just two students thrown together by fate anymore. They were choosing this. Choosing each other.
And somehow, that choice felt braver than love.
---
End of the chapter 103