Kabir decided to step back.
Not suddenly.
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But deliberately.
Carefully.
Like correcting something before it crossed a line he wasn't willing to name.
The next few days changed in small ways.
After class, Kabir didn't linger as long.
His explanations became shorter. Cleaner. Strictly academic.
He stopped leaning against the desk while talking.
Stopped asking questions that weren't directly related to the subject.
And most noticeably—
he started leaving first.
Dev noticed.
He noticed on the first day.
But he didn't say anything.
At first.
Because it could have been coincidence.
A busy schedule.
Work.
Anything.
But by the third day, the pattern was too clear to ignore.
That afternoon, Dev stayed back again.
Out of habit.
Out of expectation.
Kabir finished the lecture, closed his notes, and began gathering his things immediately.
No pause.
No glance.
No quiet moment settling into conversation.
Dev stood up slowly.
"Sir?"
Kabir didn't stop packing.
"Yes?"
Dev hesitated.
"You're leaving early these days."
Kabir nodded.
"I have work."
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
Dev took a step closer.
"You didn't before."
Kabir's hands paused for a fraction of a second.
Then resumed.
"I do now."
Silence followed.
Heavier than usual.
Dev looked at him carefully.
Something felt wrong.
Not loudly.
But clearly.
"Did I do something?" Dev asked.
Kabir stopped.
This time, properly.
He turned to face him.
"No."
The answer came immediately.
But Dev didn't look reassured.
"Then why does it feel like you're avoiding me?" he asked quietly.
That question landed.
Kabir didn't respond right away.
Because answering it honestly wasn't an option.
And answering it falsely didn't feel convincing enough.
"I'm not avoiding you," Kabir said finally.
Dev held his gaze.
"You are," he said softly.
Not accusing.
Just certain.
Kabir's expression tightened slightly.
"You're overthinking," he replied.
Dev shook his head.
"No," he said. "I know when something changes."
A pause.
"And something has."
Silence stretched between them.
This wasn't their usual silence.
This one asked for something.
Kabir looked away briefly.
Then back.
"You should focus on your exams," he said again.
Dev exhaled slowly.
"That's not an answer."
Kabir didn't respond.
Dev's voice softened.
"I'm not asking as a student right now."
That made Kabir look at him again.
Really look.
Dev continued,
"I'm asking because… it feels different now. And I don't understand why."
There it was.
Simple.
Honest.
Unprotected.
Kabir felt the weight of it more than he expected.
Because Dev wasn't accusing him.
He was trying to understand him.
And that made it harder.
"I've just been busy," Kabir said.
Dev didn't interrupt.
But he didn't believe it either.
Another silence.
Then Dev said, quieter,
"You used to stay."
Kabir's grip on his bag tightened slightly.
"That was before," he said.
Dev blinked slightly.
Before what?
He didn't ask it out loud.
But it showed.
Kabir noticed.
And that made everything worse.
That evening, Kabir avoided going home early.
For the first time in days, he stayed out longer than necessary.
Because he knew—
if he went back, he would hear the quiet next door.
And he would notice it.
And he would think about it.
And he didn't want to.
But eventually, he returned.
The corridor was silent.
Dev's light was on.
Kabir stood outside his own door for a moment.
Then unlocked it.
Went inside.
Closed it.
And tried not to listen.
A soft knock came an hour later.
Kabir froze.
He knew who it was.
He didn't open immediately.
The knock came again.
Gentle.
Patient.
Kabir finally walked to the door and opened it.
Dev stood there.
Same quiet expression.
But his eyes held something new.
Not confusion anymore.
Something closer to hurt.
"Sir," he said softly.
Kabir didn't step aside this time.
"Yes?"
Dev hesitated.
Then—
"Did I cross a line without knowing?" he asked.
Kabir's chest tightened slightly.
"No."
"Then why does it feel like you're pushing me away?" Dev asked.
Kabir didn't answer.
Because there was no version of the truth that didn't complicate everything.
Dev looked down briefly.
Then back up.
"I liked studying here," he said. "Talking to you. Staying after class."
A pause.
"I thought that was okay."
Kabir closed his eyes for a brief second.
Then opened them.
"It is okay," he said.
Dev frowned slightly.
"Then why does it not feel okay now?"
Silence.
Longer this time.
Kabir finally spoke, quieter than before.
"Because some things need distance."
Dev stilled.
That sentence didn't feel academic.
It didn't feel like advice.
It felt… personal.
"What things?" Dev asked.
Kabir looked at him.
And for a moment—
he almost said it.
But he didn't.
Instead—
"You don't need to worry about it," he said.
Dev's expression shifted.
Not angry.
Not upset.
Just… closed off slightly.
"I do," he said.
A pause.
"Because it involves me."
That landed harder than anything else.
Kabir didn't respond.
Dev nodded slowly.
"I understand," he said quietly.
But it didn't sound like understanding.
It sounded like acceptance without clarity.
And that was worse.
He stepped back.
"I won't disturb you," he added.
Kabir's hand tightened slightly on the door.
But he didn't stop him.
Dev turned.
Walked back to his flat.
Closed the door.
And for the first time since moving in—
the wall between them felt like a wall again.
Not a shared space.
Not a quiet connection.
Just distance.
Kabir stood there for a long time after.
Because he had wanted to fix something.
Instead—
he had broken the only thing that had been working without effort.