HIS STUDENT

"My name is Aarohi," I whisper to myself as I walk into the tall glass building of NUR, clutching my books tightly. Twenty-one years old, first-year master's student, and still trying to figure out who I am beyond my past. People look at me and see a quiet, studious girl. What they don't know is that I've been through storms I rarely talk about. The kind of past that leaves cracks in you-broken trust, nights I couldn't sleep, and days I doubted my worth.

The lab was quiet except for the hum of machines and the sound of my pen scratching furiously against paper. My experiment had failed. Again.
"You're pushing too hard," he said from behind me, voice softer than usual.
I didn't look at him. "Easy for you to say. You've already achieved everything. I can't even get one result right."
A pause. Then footsteps. Then the warmth of him standing just behind my chair.
"You're better than you think, Aarohi," he murmured.
I turned-too fast, too angry, too desperate for reassurance-and suddenly we were too close. His eyes locked on mine, his hand brushed against my wrist as if to steady me.
The air snapped between us, heavy, electric.
I don't know who moved first. Maybe it was both of us.
But the next second, his lips were on mine-hard, urgent, consuming.
It lasted only a heartbeat before he pulled away, breath ragged.
"This... this can't happen," he whispered, eyes dark with conflict. And just like that, he was gone, leaving me trembling, lips burning, heart racing.