The first page of Karthik's new notebook had no math problems or English notes.
It had her name. Just one word: Ananya. He'd written it without thinking, then stared at it for minutes, wondering if he should tear the page out. He didn't. He flipped to the next and started taking notes like nothing happened.
But something had happened.
Every time she smiled at him lately, something fluttered in his chest. Every time she looked tired and leaned her head slightly toward him during lectures, he wanted to freeze time.
And now, it was getting harder to pretend like this was all just friendship.
During lunch break, the classroom buzzed with noise—friends sharing chips, boys joking, girls giggling. But Karthik's bench stayed quiet, as always. He scribbled random lines on his notebook, pretending not to watch her.
Ananya sat across the aisle with her group of friends. She was laughing at something Shruti had said, but every few seconds, her gaze flickered toward him.
When their eyes met, Karthik looked away first.
"Hey," she said suddenly, standing up and walking over.
She sat beside him without asking.
"You've been weird since yesterday," she said, tilting her head.
"I'm always weird," he replied, not meeting her gaze.
"No, this is like... shy-boy weird. That's new."
Karthik glanced at her. "Maybe I'm just tired."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're lying badly," she said, smirking.
Karthik exhaled. "Maybe."
She leaned closer, voice lowering. "Want to tell me what's really going on in that stormy head of yours?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned his notebook toward her.
On it, beneath some physics equations, he had scribbled something. Tiny letters, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
She squinted, then read aloud: "I think I'm falling for you."
Her breath caught.
Karthik didn't meet her eyes. "I was going to erase it."
"Why didn't you?"
He shrugged. "Didn't feel right. Felt like… it needed to exist somewhere. Even if only for a moment."
Ananya was quiet.
Then she reached for his pen.
Without a word, she scribbled something next to it.
He hesitated, then looked.
Underneath his words, she'd written:
"I think I already have."
He looked up. Her cheeks were pink, but she was smiling.
"I told you," she whispered. "You're always the last to realize things."
He didn't reply.
He just smiled—small, but genuine—and looked down at the page.
The bell rang, but neither of them moved.
For a moment, all the chaos of school, exams, and the world outside faded away. All that remained was a page, two scribbled confessions, and two hearts finally beginning to speak the same language.
---
END OF CHAPTER 122