Kavya's POV:
The final bell rang, sharp and freeing.
But for some reason… I didn't move.
Students rushed past me, their voices blending into one loud, chaotic wave—but I stayed there, sitting at my desk, fingers lightly tracing the edge of my notebook.
It felt strange.
This day… this place…
It didn't feel unfamiliar anymore.
And that scared me a little.
"Planning to live here now?"
His voice.
I didn't even need to turn around.
I sighed softly, closing my notebook before looking back.
"There's something called peace, you should try it sometime."
He leaned against the desk beside mine, arms crossed, that usual almost-smirk playing on his lips.
"I would," he said, "but you took all of it."
I rolled my eyes.
"Wow. That was terrible."
"Still got your attention."
…Okay, that was annoying.
I stood up, grabbing my bag. "I'm leaving."
"Obviously," he said, falling into step beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
We walked out of the classroom together, the corridor now quieter, sunlight spilling in through the long windows.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
And somehow… it wasn't awkward.
Just… unfamiliar.
"Khushi ditched you?" he asked suddenly.
I glanced at him. "She had practice."
"Hmm." He nodded like he already knew.
We reached the school gate, where the noise of the outside world slowly returned—cars, voices, life moving fast again.
I stopped.
He didn't.
Then he turned back. "What?"
"I didn't say I was walking with you."
He looked at me for a second… then stepped back, standing in front of me now.
"Then don't," he said quietly.
Something about his tone—
It wasn't teasing this time.
It made my chest feel… weird.
"Why are you like this?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Like what?"
"Like you're joking all the time but—" I paused. "—not really."
For the first time, he didn't reply immediately.
The noise around us faded into something distant.
Then he smiled again.
But this time… it didn't reach his eyes.
"Maybe you're just overthinking."
Of course.
I looked away. "Yeah. Maybe."
A few seconds passed.
Then—
"Coffee?" he asked.
I blinked. "What?"
"There's a café nearby," he said casually. "Unless you're scared."
I let out a small laugh. "Of you? Please."
"Good," he said, already starting to walk. "Then keep up."
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then followed him.
And I don't know why…
But it felt like something had just begun.
We walked.
At first, it was just small things—random comments, half-finished jokes, unnecessary arguments over nothing.
And somehow… I found myself relaxing.
Maybe a little too much.
He wasn't as bad as I thought.
Annoying, yes.
But not "Stop overthinking."
I blinked. "What?"
"You do that," he said casually. "Your face gives it away."
I frowned. "You don't even know what I was thinking."
"Don't need to."
God.
I looked away, hiding the small smile that almost escaped.
We reached the café, the warm smell of coffee and baked food wrapping around us as we stepped inside. It was calm. Comfortable.
We took a seat near the window.
For a few minutes, it felt… normal.
Too normal.
Then, "I've decided your punishment."
My fingers froze around the cup.
"What?"
His tone was light. Almost careless.
But the words 'Punishment".
Something tightened in my chest.
"Oh," I said, forcing my voice to stay neutral. "And what exactly did I do?"
He leaned back, watching me.
"For accusing me," he said simply.
Right.
I held his gaze. "So?"
Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and placed a small purse on the table.
I frowned.
"When did you…."
"I said I've decided," he cut in.
Something felt off.
Very off.
Before I could ask anything else, he stood up.
"Wait…."
He looked at me one last time.
Then
"Three."
I frowned. "What are you…"
"Two."
A strange uneasiness crept in.
"One."
And just like that—
He walked out.
I sat there.
Still.
Confused.
For a moment, I didn't move.
Then slowly… I picked up the purse.
When did he even get this?
I was about to stand—
A folded paper slipped out.
I opened it.
And read.
"Since you accused me of bullying,
This is your punishment.
Now you get accused of being a thief.
Face it.
By the way, thanks for the cookie.
I forgive you.
We're even now."
My stomach dropped.
"What the hell, what are you doing with my purse?"
The voice hit like a slap.
I looked up.
A woman stood there, eyes wide, furious—staring straight at the purse in my hands.
"That's my purse!"
My mind went blank.
"No..I..this isn't..."
"You are a thief,, she shouted, grabbing attention from everywhere.
Chairs scraped. People turned.
My heartbeat spiked.
"I didn't steal it!" I said quickly, standing up. "He gave it to me…..I mean….I didn't"
"Manager!" she yelled.
This wasn't happening.
This was NOT happening.
Voices started overlapping. Accusations. Questions. Stares.
Every single eye in that café
On me.
I tried to explain.
Tried to speak.
But the words just… tangled.
After what felt like forever, the truth finally came out—the purse, the confusion, the misunderstanding.
Apologies followed.
But they felt hollow.
Because of the damage?
Done.
I stepped out of the café slowly.
The noise faded behind me.
My grip tightened.
My mind replayed his words.
"Now you get accused of being a thief."
I looked ahead with clenched jaw .
Eyes burning—not only with tears.
But with something sharper too.
"Fine," I muttered under my breath.
"This is how you want to play?"
A small, cold smile formed.
"Then let's play."