A week later, on an unusually golden afternoon, Shia walked into class like nothing had happened.
Except everything had.
Her kurta was cream instead of coral.
Her mouth smiled - but her eyes didn't.
Her oversized sunglasses stayed on, even indoors.
During break, she leaned against the canteen railing, flanked by Tanya and Kabir. She sipped her coffee slowly, said very little, laughed even less.
Across the lawn, Rohan stood alone. Watching. Silent.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Hers darted away.
As though guilt wore heels.
And needed to flee.
When the final bell rang, he caught up.
"Hey," he said gently. Not anger, not demand. Just confusion laced in warmth. "What's going on?"
She paused at the door of her car. Opened it without turning around.
Then got in and left.
The exhaust coughed.
And Rohan stood still, long after the lights faded into the evening.