Kabir stopped pretending.
Not outwardly.
His routine stayed the same—lectures, notes, measured words, controlled tone.
But inside, something had settled into a truth he could no longer avoid.
It wasn't confusion anymore.
It wasn't misinterpretation.
It wasn't something he could reduce to responsibility or concern.
He liked Dev.
The realization didn't come suddenly.
It had been building, quietly, in every pause, every glance, every moment he chose to stay a little longer than necessary.
But now it was clear.
And that clarity didn't bring relief.
It brought a dilemma he didn't know how to resolve.
That evening, Kabir sat alone in his flat.
No books open.
No work in front of him.
Just silence.
The kind that didn't calm anymore.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing in particular.
He is my student.
The thought came immediately.
Sharp. Grounded. Unavoidable.
Kabir closed his eyes briefly.
That should have been enough.
That fact alone should have ended everything before it even began.
But it didn't.
Because alongside it, equally strong, equally undeniable—
was everything else.
The way Dev stayed back without asking.
The way his voice softened when conversations shifted away from academics.
The way he trusted Kabir without hesitation.
And the way Kabir had started waiting for him.
Without permission.
Without intention.
Kabir exhaled slowly.
"This is wrong," he said quietly to himself.
But the words didn't land the way they should have.
Not fully.
Because what he felt didn't feel wrong.
It felt—
real.
And that made it harder.
A soft sound came from the other side of the wall.
Dev's room.
Kabir's attention shifted immediately.
Instinctively.
Without thinking.
That was new.
Or maybe it wasn't new—
just something he had only now started noticing.
He sat still for a moment.
Then stood.
Walked toward the door.
Stopped.
His hand rested briefly against the handle.
He didn't open it.
Because he didn't know what he would say if he did.
You've been distant.
I didn't mean to push you away.
I…
Kabir stepped back.
Ran a hand through his hair.
No.
None of those sentences worked.
Because none of them addressed the real problem.
The real problem was him.
The next day in class, Kabir avoided looking at Dev.
Not obviously.
Not in a way others would notice.
But enough.
Enough that Dev felt it.
Dev didn't stay after class.
Kabir knew he wouldn't.
And for the first time, Kabir didn't want him to.
Because the moment they were alone again—
Kabir wouldn't be able to pretend this was just about teaching anymore.
Later that evening, Kabir stepped out into the corridor.
He didn't have a reason.
He just… needed space.
Or maybe proximity.
He wasn't sure.
Dev's door was slightly open.
Not wide.
Just enough to show light from inside.
Kabir stopped.
For a moment, he considered walking past.
But instead—
he knocked lightly.
Dev opened the door.
Surprise flickered across his face for a second.
"Sir?"
Kabir nodded.
"Yes."
A pause.
Neither of them spoke immediately.
The distance between them felt different now.
Not because it had increased—
but because Kabir was aware of it in a way he hadn't been before.
"I just…" Kabir started.
Then stopped.
Dev waited.
Quiet.
Patient.
The same way he always had.
Kabir exhaled slowly.
"I wanted to check if everything is fine," he said finally.
It wasn't the truth.
Not fully.
But it was the closest he could manage.
Dev nodded.
"It is."
A pause.
Then, more carefully—
"I've just been focusing on studies."
Kabir nodded once.
"Good."
Silence.
Neither of them moved.
Then Dev asked softly,
"Are you… still busy these days?"
Kabir looked at him.
The question carried more than just its words.
"Yes," Kabir said.
It wasn't entirely false.
But it wasn't the answer Dev was really asking for either.
Dev nodded.
"I understand."
But this time, Kabir could hear it—
that quiet distance in Dev's voice.
The same one Kabir had created.
And now couldn't undo easily.
Kabir hesitated.
Then, without planning it—
"Dev."
Dev looked up.
Kabir paused.
The word sat there.
Unfinished.
Because everything that needed to come after it—
was something he couldn't say.
Not like this.
Not now.
Kabir looked away briefly.
Then back.
"You should get some rest," he said instead.
Dev blinked slightly.
A flicker of something—disappointment? confusion?—passed through his expression.
Then it settled.
"Okay," he said quietly.
Kabir nodded.
And stepped back.
The door closed.
Kabir stood there for a long moment.
Because he knew exactly what he had just done.
Again.
He had chosen the safer sentence.
The acceptable one.
The one that kept everything intact on the outside—
while leaving everything unresolved inside.
He leaned back against the wall.
Closed his eyes briefly.
"This is not simple," he said under his breath.
And it wasn't.
Because liking Dev wasn't just about liking someone.
It came with responsibility.
With boundaries.
With consequences Kabir couldn't ignore.
And yet—
walking away from it entirely didn't feel possible anymore either.
That night, Kabir didn't sleep easily.
Not because of restlessness.
But because his thoughts had finally stopped avoiding the truth.
He didn't just care about Dev.
He wanted to be close to him.
And that was exactly the problem.
Because now, every choice he made would matter.
Every step forward.
Every step back.
And Kabir had no idea—
which one would hurt less.