What after That?

Ch 21.

Simran clenched her fists by her sides, willing herself not to cry as the laughter and speculation in the room grew louder.

The vulnerability she had poured into the letter had just been turned into a spectacle, and the sight of Shubman, amused and nonchalant, only made the pain sharper.

She had never intended for the letter to be read like that—she had hoped it would remain a secret, a quiet confession of her feelings. But now, everything was laid bare, and the sting of humiliation burned through her chest.

Her feet felt like lead as she forced herself to step into the classroom, unnoticed by the others.

She placed the register on the teacher's desk as quietly as she could, her head down, her vision blurry with unshed tears. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t allow herself to break. Not here. Not now.

Without a word, she turned on her heels and walked out of the classroom, her heart heavy. Every step she took felt harder than the last, but she kept moving, desperate to find a place where she could be alone. She needed to get away from the laughter, the teasing, and most of all, from Shubman.

As she exited the hallway, she allowed herself one deep breath, biting her lip to stop the sob that was threatening to escape.

All she had wanted was for Shubman to notice her, to feel something—anything—toward her.

But instead, he had turned her deepest feelings into a joke, without even realizing it. Simran wiped away a stray tear and hurried down the corridor, disappearing into the anonymity of the school.

Ishan glanced at Shubman with a mix of disapproval and quiet disbelief. "Tumhe aisa nahi karna chahiye tha…" he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Shubman, still holding the letter, shrugged, looking somewhat guilty but also genuinely confused. "Mujhe kya pata tha ye con... confession hai…" he mumbled, his earlier bravado fading.

He hadn’t realized the weight of what he was reading aloud; to him, it had just been a joke. Now, with the laughter dying down and Ishan’s serious expression staring back at him, he felt a growing sense of regret.

Ishan sighed heavily. "Humne bola tha humne nahi kiya," he muttered, more to himself than to Shubman.

Shubman, frowning, turned the letter in his hands, scanning the words again. "Ye kisne likha hoga…?" he mused aloud, still oblivious to the gravity of the confession.

He looked at the elegant handwriting, the heart-shaped seal, and the poetic words about his hair and eyes. It was flattering, sure, but also deeply personal.

He felt bad, knowing that someone had poured their heart out to him, only for him to read it like it was some joke in front of the entire class.

What if it was someone within te class?
That would be worst.

As Shubman inspected the letter again, Ishan's gaze shifted to the paper in his hands, and something about the handwriting caught his attention.

His eyes widened in shock, recognition hitting him like a brick. Wait… I know this handwriting… His heart thudded in his chest as he pieced it together, slowly but surely. He had seen this script before, in notes passed during class, in homework exchanges, in casual moments he hadn’t thought twice about.

And then it hit him—Simran. The realization made his stomach drop. His mind raced as he tried to process what this meant.

Simran wrote this? He swallowed hard, disbelief flooding through him. The quiet, sweet girl who barely ever spoke, always so polite and distant… had she been harboring feelings for Shubman all this time?