The pathology lab finally ended with a collective sigh of relief.
For the last hour, the room had been filled with the smell of formalin, the scratching of pens, and Dr. Sharma's relentless questioning.
"Identify the specimen."
"State the pathology."
"Complications."
"Next."
Aanya was fairly certain she had answered enough questions to qualify as an assistant professor.
The moment the bell rang, students began escaping the lab like prisoners released from captivity.
"Freedom," Aditi declared dramatically, dropping onto a nearby bench outside the department.
"You're being dramatic again," Aanya said.
"Again?" Aditi pressed a hand against her chest. "How dare you."
Sagnik quietly handed Aditi the water bottle she had forgotten on the lab table.
Aditi blinked.
"Oh."
"You left it behind."
"I would've noticed eventually."
"You would've realized after reaching the hostel."
"That's still eventually."
Aanya laughed.
Sagnik shook his head.
"Amazing survival instincts."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It counts."
Aditi pointed triumphantly.
"See? This is why I like him."
"You like everyone," Aanya said.
"False."
Aditi immediately pointed at a random senior walking past.
"I don't like him."
"Do you even know him?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"He looks like he'd remind the teacher about homework."
Sagnik nearly smiled.
Nearly.
Aanya noticed.
Aditi noticed too.
"Look at that."
"What?" Aanya asked.
"I almost made him laugh."
"You say that like it's an achievement."
"It is."
"It's not."
"It absolutely is."
Their argument continued for another minute before Aditi's phone suddenly vibrated.
She glanced at the screen.
The dramatic expression vanished.
"Oh."
"What happened?" Aanya asked.
"My cousin."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah."
Aditi stood up.
"She finally reached campus and apparently has the survival skills of a lost penguin."
Aanya blinked.
"A lost penguin?"
"Don't question the metaphor."
"There are several questions."
"I refuse to answer them."
Sagnik folded his arms.
"Go rescue your penguin."
"See?"
Aditi pointed at him.
"This is friendship."
"No, this is me encouraging you to leave."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
Aditi gasped theatrically.
Then laughed.
Before leaving, she looked between them.
Aanya immediately narrowed her eyes.
"No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You were about to."
"Maybe."
"No."
Aditi grinned.
"Fine."
She stepped backward.
"Don't do anything interesting without me."
"We weren't planning to," Aanya replied.
"That's exactly what suspicious people say."
"Go."
"Okay, okay."
Aditi waved dramatically before disappearing down the corridor.
For the first time all afternoon, silence settled.
Not awkward silence.
Just different.
The kind that naturally appeared when one person left and the conversation reshaped itself around whoever remained.
Aanya adjusted the strap of her bag.
"Your penguin comment was unnecessary."
"It was accurate."
"It was ridiculous."
"Both can be true."
She rolled her eyes.
They began walking down the corridor together.
The campus felt strangely quieter now.
Students moved between departments.
A distant announcement echoed from somewhere near the administration block.
The afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the pathways.
For a few moments neither spoke.
Not because they had nothing to say.
Because neither felt pressured to fill the silence.
Aanya had always liked that about him.
With most people, silence demanded attention.
With Sagnik, silence simply existed.
Comfortably.
"You answered that specimen question before I could."
She glanced at him.
"You knew the answer."
"I was thinking."
"You were overthinking."
"Possibly."
"Definitely."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The smile."
"It was never gone."
"Liar."
"Probably."
Aanya laughed softly.
The sound seemed to relax him.
Not visibly.
Just enough.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
The careful social version of him that appeared around groups seemed to fade.
Not disappear.
Just settle.
Leaving behind the version she knew best.
The one who didn't need to perform calmness because he genuinely felt calm around her.
They reached a shaded pathway lined with old trees.
Leaves rustled overhead.
A cool breeze drifted through the campus.
Aanya exhaled.
"I don't want to study today."
"You have a pharmacology test next week."
"I know."
"You haven't finished the notes."
"I know."
"You should finish the notes."
Aanya groaned.
"I liked you better five seconds ago."
"That's unfortunate."
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
She bumped his shoulder lightly.
He bumped hers back.
Neither acknowledged it.
Neither moved away.
The conversation drifted naturally after that.
From pathology.
To professors.
To hostel food.
To a debate about whether coffee counted as a meal.
Aanya argued that it absolutely did.
Sagnik argued that it absolutely didn't.
The discussion became surprisingly intense.
And somewhere in the middle of it, neither noticed how much easier breathing felt when it was just the two of them.
Not because anything dramatic had happened.
Not because either had said anything new.
Simply because sometimes closeness wasn't built through confessions.
Sometimes it was built through ordinary afternoons, ridiculous arguments, and the quiet comfort of walking beside someone who had become part of your day without asking permission.