ALMOST THERE

CHAPTER 17: "I've got... back-up plans"

Main Kya Karoon - Pritam
💌🍓🧸🍰

The first week of September brings with it the familiar hum of dread that always settles in before exams.

The school feels like a pressure cooker, everyone simmering at different levels, the tension palpable in the air, heavy enough to choke on.

The halls are quieter, filled with the low murmurs of people discussing chapters, revising formulas, and throwing out half-hearted jokes to ease the anxiety.

I'm still annoyed about Hamza's stupid prank. Well, maybe not annoyed. I can't stay angry forever; that's not my thing. But I'm not exactly ready to let it go, either.

It gives me an excuse to keep Shahaan on his toes, watching him try to win me back with little gestures-a chocolate bar slipped into my bag when I'm not looking, a folded note with terrible doodles of cats doing yoga, his attempts to meet my eyes in class and make me crack a smile.

He knows I can't resist his stupid cat drawings, and maybe I'm playing into it more than I'd like to admit.

I roll my eyes whenever I catch him doing it, but I don't miss the way his shoulders drop a little in relief every time I don't rip up his notes on sight.

He's been at it for days now-taking notes for me, picking up my fallen pens like he's on some sacred mission.

I swear, if he starts fanning me with a palm leaf, I might actually break. And the worst part is, he doesn't even realize how much he gets under my skin.

I often catch myself smiling, and I hate it-no, that's not right. I hate that I don't hate it.

I can't stop the small lift in my chest, the warmth that creeps in around the edges of my carefully built defenses. Shahaan has this way of inching closer, just enough to make me notice, but not enough to make me bolt.

Like he's testing the water, figuring out the temperature. It's almost annoying how well he knows me, how easily he navigates the places I don't even let myself go.

But I'm not giving in that easy. Not yet, at least. I'm still milking this, just a bit. He owes me for the silent panic, for the stupid sleepless nights, for every single worry that gnawed at me because of that idiotic prank.

He might not have planned it, but he's guilty by association. And if he wants forgiveness, he can damn well earn it.

We're sitting in the library, pretending to study, when I catch sight of Tejal. She's across the room, her face buried in her notes. Abhimanyu is a few tables away, his back to her, focused on his textbook like he's trying to will it into his brain by sheer force, and the first thought that stirs up my mind is why the hell are they sitting miles apart and not, basically, on each other's laps? Like they always do?

There's a charged air between them, like they're each a storm front passing by without even a crackle of thunder. No smiles, no nods, not even a glance exchanged.

I nudge Shahaan with my elbow, jerking my chin in their direction. "What's going on with them?" I mutter under my breath.

He follows my gaze, frowning. "I don't know," he says slowly. "They haven't spoken in a few days. Abhi mentioned something about needing space, but he clammed up after that."

I snort. "Space? That's a polite way of saying something went down."

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Maybe. But I don't want to push him. Bro's a menace when mad."

I glance back at Tejal, her posture stiff, her fingers tapping nervously against the edge of her book.

She's always been the calm one, the one who smooths things over when they get rough, but right now, she looks like she's barely keeping it together.

Abhimanyu, on the other hand, looks like he's holding himself so tightly that he might snap. The space between them is loaded, heavy with things unsaid, and it makes my skin prickle with unease.

"Looks like they're both auditioning for a play where the other doesn't exist," Shahaan says, his voice low, eyes still fixed on them. "Passing by like ghosts."

He chuckles, "It's....wierd, to say the least."

"Weird doesn't remotely cover it," I reply, frowning. "But, chhoro bhai, hume kya."

(Whatever, not our problem.)

He nods, but I can see the worry lingering in his eyes. He's too soft for his own good sometimes. I turn my attention back to my book, but I can feel him watching me, that steady gaze of his like he's reading the pages of my face instead of his notes.

He leans in, so close I can feel his breath against my cheek, and murmurs, "Still mad at me, Shehzadi?"

I roll my eyes but don't move away. "You should be grateful I haven't poisoned your lunch yet."

He laughs softly, a sound that wraps around me like a warm blanket, and my resolve wavers just a bit. "Fair point," he says. "But how about this-momo-date on me after exams? Peace offering?"

I don't look up. "Is that supposed to make me forgive you?" I ask, pretending to be annoyed, but I can feel the corner of my mouth twitching, betraying me.

"Maybe," he grins. "I mean, it's worth a shot, right?"

I make a show of sighing, flipping a page too hard. "If you think momos are enough, you've seriously underestimated how mad I am."

He laughs, that soft sound that always makes something warm unfurl in my chest despite myself. "Oh, I've got more than momos, my dear," he murmurs, leaning in closer. "I've got backup plans. Many of them."

I fight the smile that's threatening to break free as my brain very efficiently generates all the other implications of that sentence. He knows it, too.

Ofcourse, he did it on purpose. I can tell by the way his grin widens, like he's won some small victory, and it infuriates me just enough to hold my ground for a few more minutes.

I roll my eyes, if only to hide the smile I can't seem to control. "Fine. But this doesn't mean I forgive you," I mutter.

"Of course not," he says with mock seriousness, his eyes twinkling. "I'll keep trying." He looks at me with an intensity I've never felt before. "I'll always try."

And there it is again, that soft persistence, the way he knows exactly how to chip away at me without even trying.

It's infuriating, and yet... comforting. Like a drop of water wearing down a stone, slow but sure, patient in a way that makes me feel exposed and understood all at once.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tejal exiting the library, her gaze flicking away from Abhimanyu like he's just another face in the crowd. I feel that tug of curiosity, the itch to ask what's going on, but I swallow it down. If she wants to talk, she will. Until then, I'll let it be.

For now, I've got enough on my plate trying to pretend I'm not enjoying the way Shahaan keeps trying to break through my walls.

And for some reason, I'm starting to wonder if maybe I want him to.