The evening had begun settling over the campus by the time they left.
The heat had softened.
The pathways were quieter now, with most students either heading back to their hostels or lingering around the canteen.
Aanya walked beside Sagnik.
Neither of them seemed particularly eager to get anywhere.
They had spent most of the day together already.
Class.
Lunch.
Another lecture.
Then another.
And somehow, even after all of it, being beside him still didn't feel like enough.
Aanya glanced at him.
He was looking ahead, one hand holding the strap of his bag.
The sketchbook was inside.
She knew that.
She had thought about it more times than she wanted to admit.
She wondered what he had drawn.
She wondered why he seemed so reluctant to show her.
And, more than anything—
She wondered why that reluctance had made her even more curious.
They reached the turn that would take them toward their hostels.
Aanya slowed slightly.
Sagnik noticed.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
He smiled.
"Again?"
She laughed softly.
"Maybe."
They walked another few steps.
Then Aanya spoke.
"Sagnik."
"Yeah?"
She looked ahead.
"Are you going back?"
"Probably."
A pause.
Then, almost casually—
"Can I come over?"
He looked at her.
There was no hesitation in his answer.
"Yeah."
Just that.
Aanya smiled.
"Okay."
Neither of them said anything else about it.
They simply changed direction.
And started walking toward his place.
The moment they entered, Aanya dropped her bag near the sofa.
She had done it so many times now that she didn't even think about it.
Sagnik noticed.
He didn't comment.
He put his own bag down.
Then went to get some water.
Aanya sat on the couch.
She looked around.
Everything was familiar.
The same room.
The same furniture.
The same quietness.
She pulled her legs up slightly and settled into the corner.
Sagnik returned with two glasses.
He handed one to her.
She took it.
"Thanks."
He sat down at the other end of the couch.
For a while, they talked.
About class.
About something ridiculous one of their classmates had said.
About an upcoming assignment.
Nothing important.
Nothing that needed either of them to think too hard.
But every so often, Aanya's eyes wandered.
Toward the table.
Toward his bag.
She looked away.
A few minutes later, she looked again.
This time, Sagnik noticed.
He didn't say anything immediately.
He simply watched her.
Aanya didn't realize.
She was thinking.
Not even consciously.
Her eyes remained on the bag.
The sketchbook.
Eventually—
"What are you thinking about?"
She looked at him.
For a second, she considered answering.
Then she didn't.
Sagnik waited.
"Aanya?"
She smiled faintly.
Still nothing.
He looked toward the bag.
Then back at her.
"What?"
Aanya's smile widened.
She glanced at the bag again.
Then looked at him.
And suddenly laughed.
A small, guilty laugh.
"I'm sorry."
Sagnik's expression changed.
His eyebrows drew together.
"You..."
He looked at the bag.
Then at her.
"No."
Aanya was already getting up.
Sagnik stood almost at the same time.
"Aanya."
She laughed again.
"I'm sorry!"
"Don't."
That only made her move faster.
She sprinted toward the bag.
"Aanya!"
He went after her.
She reached it first.
She grabbed the bag and ran.
Sagnik followed.
He caught the edge of the furniture with his foot and stumbled.
"Ah—"
Aanya burst into laughter.
She made it to the bathroom.
Sagnik reached the door a second later.
The lock clicked.
He stopped.
"Aanya."
From inside came muffled laughter.
"Open the door."
"No."
"Aanya."
"I just want to see it!"
"No."
She laughed again.
"Why are you so scared?"
"I'm not scared."
"You sound scared."
"I'm asking you not to look."
"Too late."
There was another burst of giggling.
Sagnik stood outside the door.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't try to force the door open.
He simply waited.
"Aanya."
"I'm sorry."
"You aren't."
"I am."
"You've already opened it."
Silence.
Then another laugh.
For a while, it remained playful.
He could hear pages turning.
Aanya's occasional quiet laugh.
A few seconds of silence.
Then another page.
Then another.
Sagnik closed his eyes.
He already knew.
There was nothing left to do.
He had known this was possible.
He had just never thought she'd actually see it.
The laughter continued.
Then—
stopped.
Completely.
Sagnik opened his eyes.
The silence on the other side of the door was different.
Not playful anymore.
He didn't need to ask.
She had seen it.
All of it.
The room seemed to become unbearably quiet.
Sagnik slowly lowered himself against the door.
His back rested against the wood.
He slid down until he was sitting on the floor.
He stared at nothing.
There was no point pretending anymore.
No point worrying about whether she'd understand.
She had seen.
That was it.
Ten minutes passed.
Then the lock clicked.
The door opened.
Aanya stepped out.
She didn't look at him.
Not once.
She walked quietly toward the table.
Placed the sketchbook down.
Placed his bag beside it.
Then walked toward the couch.
She lay down.
And closed her eyes.
Sagnik watched her.
He waited.
For anger.
Embarrassment.
A question.
A joke.
Anything.
Nothing came.
That hurt more than he expected.
A small sting settled somewhere beneath his ribs.
He looked away.
Eventually, he stood.
He picked up his notebook and sat at the desk.
If she didn't want to talk—
he wouldn't force her.
He tried to work.
Aanya remained on the couch.
Silent.
The room slowly settled into stillness.
After some time, Sagnik heard her breathing change.
She had fallen asleep.
He looked over.
She was curled slightly into the couch.
He stared for a moment.
Then returned to his work.
Half an hour later, Aanya woke.
Her eyes opened slowly.
For a few seconds, she didn't move.
Then she looked toward the desk.
Empty.
Sagnik wasn't there.
She sat up.
The room was quiet.
She looked at the door.
Nothing.
She waited.
Fifteen minutes.
Nothing.
Thirty.
Still nothing.
Forty-five.
The room remained empty.
She didn't know where he had gone.
She didn't know why he had left.
And she didn't know what she was supposed to feel.
One hour passed.
Then another.
Still nothing.
Aanya remained on the couch.
She didn't leave.
She didn't call him.
She simply waited.
Two hours.
Then two hours and fifteen minutes.
Two hours and thirty.
Nothing.
At two hours and forty-five minutes—
the door opened.
Sagnik stepped inside.
He stopped.
Aanya was sitting on the couch.
Their eyes met.
She inhaled sharply.
Something in her expression changed.
All the uncertainty.
All the shock.
All the things she had been trying to understand alone—
softened.
Sagnik didn't say anything.
Neither did she.
He slowly walked over.
Sat down opposite her.
They looked at each other.
Neither looked away.
The silence stretched.
Not uncomfortable.
Not anymore.
Just full.
Aanya's eyes began to shine.
Sagnik remained still.
He wasn't going to ask.
Whatever she needed to say—
she would say it.
Eventually.
Or maybe she wouldn't.
That was okay too.
Aanya stood.
For a second, Sagnik thought she was leaving.
Instead, she stepped toward him.
Then sat down on his lap.
His breath caught.
She wrapped her small arms around his neck.
And leaned forward.
Her forehead brushed against his shoulder before she finally rested her head against his chest.
Sagnik didn't ask a single question.
His arms came around her almost immediately.
One around her waist.
The other across her back.
He pulled her closer.
Aanya didn't speak.
Neither did he.
Her fingers tightened slightly behind his neck.
Then her breathing changed.
Once.
Twice.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Then another.
She didn't cry loudly.
There was no sobbing.
No explanation.
Just everything she had been carrying finally finding somewhere to go.
The tears wet the front of his shirt.
Sagnik didn't care.
Not even slightly.
His hand moved slowly over her hair.
A gentle pat.
Again.
And again.
Aanya held him tighter.
As though letting go would somehow make the feeling disappear.
It didn't.
So she stayed.
And he let her.
Eventually, her breathing became slower.
Her arms loosened slightly.
She had fallen asleep against him.
Sagnik looked down.
For the first time since she had found the sketchbook—
he smiled.
Small.
Almost disbelieving.
He rested his cheek lightly against the top of her head.
And simply stayed there.
He didn't need to know what she had thought when she turned those pages.
Not tonight.
For now, she was here.
And somehow—
that was enough.