ALMOST THERE

CHAPTER 3: Twelve year-old therapists.

Tujhe Kitna Chahne Lage Hum - Arijit Singh
🪐✨🤍🏹

The room was filled with suppressed hummings and occasional outbursts of volumes, which overpowered the teacher's desperate attempt calm the class down.

The ceiling fan above my head creaked in a certain rhythm that rang way too loud in my ears.

Class had technically started fifteen minutes ago, but I wasn't present-at least, not mentally.

My mind wandered, drifting away from the droning voice of the teacher and the chaotic energy of my classmates, all the way down the lane of memory I didn't tread that often.

Atleast I tried not to.

October, 2019.

"No way."

"Way." Divisha put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, which I couldn't tell if it was supposed to be reassuring.

The corridor whistled with the cool aftermath of the thunderstorm that left water pooled in random puddles across the field as Divisha and I stood looking out into the campus from the balcony.

"No, but there's no way it is what it is." I shook my head, as if that would make the very obvious truth vanish.

The truth that he likes me.

I repeat, HE likes ME.

Shahaan Shaikh likes me.

Bullshit.

"Either you're blind or way too oblivious to notice that he's clearly head over heels in love with you!" Divisha's eyes were bulging out at this point, and I couldn't blame her.

I was a handful when it came to people.

"He gave you chocolates on his birthday when you barely knew him," she said, holding up one finger, as if making a mental count.

"He gave chocolates to everyone," I countered, my eyes narrowing skeptically.

"He talked well about you to his tutors," she continued, dismissing my response.

"There's nothing out of the ordinary in that-"

"He stuck around with you the entire day you twisted your knee during the kabaddi match and couldn't walk properly."

That shut me up.

She was right.

He did stick around.

He always did.

And I did notice every little action of his because that's what people like me do.

Overthink.

Over-analyze.

Overdo every single thing.

Tear apart every single thing as if our lives depend on it. Even though it only depends on how efficient trees are in releasing oxygen.

But, alas, anxiety sees no bounds.

My deep trail of thoughts was broken when I noticed Divisha letting out a loud cough while patting her chest repeatedly.

I would've put my arms around her to calm her down... only if I hadn't noticed the wicked grin on her face.

It didn't take me another second to recognize that look and the fake coughing and choking.

She kept glancing behind us, at the classroom doors, smiling like an idiot while nudging me in the shoulder harder than necessary.

Little bitch.

I didn't need to turn around to see for myself. His gaze was burning a hole in my back.

Burning's supposed to burn, right? Only, it didn't.

It felt euphoric.

Nothing like anything I'd felt in the terrible 13 years of my existence.

I didn't need to look around and see for myself, but I did anyway.

I turned around, the heel of my shoe screeching on the marbled floor as my gaze found his.

I didn't have to lock my eyes to know he'd been stealing glances at me the entire time.

But I did anyway.

There he was, with one hand half-raised, leaning it against the brown door frame.

Here I was, with my hands crossed over my chest, leaning back against the balcony.

Our gazes remained locked for a while before they lowered together.

"Love is in the air~~" Divisha's voice echoed through the bustling corridor, clapping her hands.

I sighed.

Twelve year-olds these days.