She noticed him before he noticed her.

Professor Kabir Sethi didn’t rush into the classroom like the others.

He paused—keys still in his hand—eyes scanning the room as if he was measuring silence itself.

Naina Kapoor sat in the third row, notebook open, pen untouched.

She told herself it was just another lecture.

She lied.

When his gaze brushed past her, something tightened in her chest—brief, sharp, uninvited.

He looked away first. That unsettled her more than if he hadn’t.

His voice was calm. Controlled.

The kind that didn’t need to be loud to command attention.

“Good morning,” he said, and the room listened.

Naina tried to focus on the board, on the words, on the rules that existed for a reason.

But every time he moved closer, the air felt heavier—like a question no one was supposed to ask.

This wasn’t attraction.

This was awareness.

And awareness, she would soon learn, was dangerous.