Kuch Toh Hai

Part 16

It was late afternoon — the golden hour had spilled lazily across the campus, turning the tiled corridors of the law department warm and amber. Most students had vanished, classrooms lay quiet, and the college exhaled the heavy sigh of a long day.

But Karishma had stayed behind.

And now she stood outside Professor Haseena Malik's office, clutching her file like it contained her confessions instead of coursework.

She knocked. Twice.

A pause. Then, from inside —

"Aa jaaiye."

Karishma entered.

Haseena was at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, reading something intently. Her dupatta had slipped slightly off one shoulder. The room smelled like coffee and old books. That familiar scent made Karishma's heart stammer.

She stepped in, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Karishma (softly):
"Assignment waala feedback lene aaye the,ma'am. Agar disturb kar rahe hain toh—"

Haseena (glancing up, voice calm):
"Baithiye. Feedback ke liye hi toh likhwaaya tha."

Karishma sat, trying to appear casual, though her heart thudded annoyingly loud in her ears. She watched as Haseena flipped open her file, pen tapping the edge of the paper.

 Haseena Malik's office was always unnervingly neat. The desk was spotless, her fountain pen aligned exactly parallel to the paper tray, and her books lined up like disciplined soldiers across the shelves. The only thing disrupting the quiet order was Karishma Singh—slouched in the chair opposite, twirling her pen and stealing glances she shouldn't.

Haseena adjusted her glasses and opened the folder Karishma had placed in front of her. "Let's see," she murmured, flipping the first page. Her voice had that low, calm tone that somehow turned even a reprimand into poetry.

Karishma didn't hear a single word she said after that. Not really. She was too busy watching the way Haseena's brow furrowed in concentration, how the faintest crease formed between her eyes when she found something to correct. Her hair, pulled into a tidy bun, had a few rebellious strands brushing against her cheek, and Karishma's fingers twitched with the ridiculous urge to tuck them away.

God, look at her, Karishma thought, resting her chin on her palm. She's like... like a painting. No, a painting would move aside to give her the spotlight.

"Karishma?"

The student blinked, caught mid-daydream, and tried to look studious. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I said this introduction is too casual," Haseena repeated, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "You need a stronger thesis statement." She circled the section with her red pen, and the movement drew Karishma's eyes down to her elegant fingers. The veins, the ringless hand, the perfect control in the way she wrote—it all felt unfairly magnetic.

"Uh-huh," Karishma muttered, nodding a little too fast. Focus on the assignment, idiot. 

But her eyes betrayed her, drifting back up to Haseena's face. And then staying there.

Haseena, mid-sentence, paused. She could feel the intensity of that gaze—the kind that made the skin at the back of her neck warm. Slowly, she raised her head. Sure enough, Karishma was staring at her, wide-eyed, unblinking, almost... adoring.

For the briefest heartbeat, something tugged in Haseena's chest. An unfamiliar quickening. She hated to admit—even to herself—that it felt good to be looked at that way. Dangerous, but good.

She cleared her throat softly and set down her pen, breaking the moment. "Karishma, dhyan kahan hain aapka, humare chehre par aapke assignment ka reflection dikh raha jo aap itne gaur se dekh rahi hain?"

Color rushed to Karishma's cheeks as if she'd been caught stealing sweets. "Oh—sorry, ma'am! I was just.....hum to bss soch rahe the abhi jo aapne kaha na , I need to work on my thesis""

"Mhm." Haseena wasn't convinced. She pressed her lips together and returned her gaze to the papers, determined not to let that flutter in her heart linger. She was Professor Malik—composed, disciplined. She had no business entertaining feelings stirred by a student's foolish eyes.

Still, as she made her notes, she couldn't ignore the faint awareness of Karishma's stare lingering on her like sunlight at the edge of a curtain. And when she finally handed the folder back, her hand brushed against Karishma's by accident. Just a second, nothing more. But enough to leave a spark.

"Work on the corrections by next week," she said crisply.

"Yes, ma'am," Karishma replied, voice a little softer, like she was afraid to disturb the fragile quiet between them.

When Karishma left, Haseena leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingertips to her temple.' Dont think too much haseena , it's nothing! ''

'She told herself it was nothing. Just a silly girl with puppy-dog eyes. Just her imagination.

And yet, the warmth in her chest refused to fade. THe subtle ache, the way karishma was looking at her , something that made haseena's chest flutter yet she was too afraid to acknowledge that, too afraid to even let the thought linger for a second.