“I… I… I’m feeling familiar with you. Do I already know you?” Aarya whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Hiten froze, his chest tightening. “Wait… I felt the same. It hit me too,” he murmured, a faint, surprised smile tugging at his lips.

For a heartbeat, silence hung between them — not awkward, not tense, just full of an unspoken connection. Then, slowly, the morning continued, each step carrying them further into the rhythm of their day.

The rain continued to drum softly against the windows, a steady rhythm that seemed almost calming after the chaos outside. Inside, the warmth of Hiten’s house wrapped around Aarya like a soft, protective blanket. The air smelled faintly of soap and simmering food, carrying a strange comfort she hadn’t realized she needed.

She stood awkwardly near the doorway, damp hair clinging to her cheeks. Her oversized night suit hung loosely on her frame, and though it was comfortable, it made her feel exposed in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Every muscle in her body was tense, unsure whether to relax or retreat.

Hiten moved quietly in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces. Occasionally, his eyes flicked toward her, noting the way she hesitated, the small tremor in her fingers as she hugged the fabric of her night suit. He didn’t rush her, though a part of him longed to bridge the distance between them.

“So… you’re a student too?” she asked softly, trying to sound casual, though her voice carried a faint tremor.

“Yeah,” he replied, stirring the creamy sauce. “Greenwood High.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait… really? Which class?”

“Class 9, Section B,” he said casually, without looking up.

Aarya felt a jolt of recognition. “We haven’t met before?” she asked, a little embarrassed.

“Probably in different sections,” he said lightly.

A shy smile tugged at her lips. “Ah… that makes sense. Sorry, I got too comfortable and made things awkward earlier.”

“No worries,” he said, finally meeting her gaze with a soft smile. “After all, we’re friends now.”

Friends. The word felt strange and warm, like a small promise in the midst of the storm. Slowly, the tension in her chest eased, though a flutter of curiosity and caution remained.

Hiten poured her a cup of tea, steam curling in delicate wisps. “Drink this. It’ll warm you up.”

She accepted it, hands wrapping around the cup, feeling the gentle heat seep into her palms. The simple gesture carried more comfort than she expected. The room was quiet except for the faint hiss of steam and the soft patter of rain against the windows.

“Thank you,” she murmured, unsure why she felt the need to say it.

“You’re welcome,” he said, glancing up briefly. There was something unspoken in his expression, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

They sat in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but charged—an unspoken understanding forming between them. Her eyes occasionally flicked to him, noticing small details: the way his fingers flexed as he held the knife, the soft crease of concentration on his forehead, the subtle tilt of his head when he observed her. Every movement, every glance, seemed to pull her in deeper.

Finally, she spoke, curiosity winning over hesitation. “Why… are you doing all this for me?”

Hiten paused, a faint smile brushing his lips. “I… don’t know. Something told me you needed help. I couldn’t ignore it.”

Her heart skipped. Something about the simplicity of his words, the quiet assurance in his voice, made her feel a strange warmth spreading through her chest. She wanted to ask more, to probe deeper, but the words lodged in her throat.

Instead, she sipped her tea, letting the warmth chase away the lingering chill. The storm outside seemed distant now, almost irrelevant compared to the quiet intimacy of the kitchen.

Minutes passed. They spoke in small bursts—questions about school, favorite subjects, hobbies. Each answer, each tiny gesture, drew them closer, building a subtle connection neither of them fully understood yet.

And then, almost instinctively, her gaze lingered on him, searching his eyes. She felt herself leaning slightly, curiosity and something else—something unspoken—pushing her forward. The warmth in her chest grew stronger, her thoughts scattered and alive in a way they hadn’t been before.

Hiten noticed, his eyes softening. For a moment, time seemed suspended—the rain, the kitchen, everything around them fading into the background.

Aarya’s voice trembled slightly as she whispered,

“I… I… feel…”

Hiten tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes.

“What do you feel?” he asked gently, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Aarya’s words caught in her throat. She looked down, fidgeting, then slowly raised her eyes to his.

“I… I…”

What could she possibly mean? Click next to find out!