03 Right Next Door
It was just another Saturday. At least, it
was supposed to be.
I’d planned on washing the car, grabbing lunch, maybe catching the evening match. Simple. Quiet. Predictable.
And then she showed up.
Niyati Sharma. Diya’s best friend. The girl who’d been hanging around our house for years. The kid with the school uniform and the stubborn ponytail who used to leave sticky fingerprints on our TV remote.
Except… she wasn’t a kid anymore.
I noticed it the second I glanced up from rinsing the hood of the car. The sun hit her just right—caught in her hair, glowing on her skin. She froze when she saw me, clutching that little paper bag like it was some kind of shield.
Her eyes lingered. On my chest. My arms. She tried to hide it, but I’d been around enough to know when someone was looking.
And for some stupid reason, I didn’t look away either.
I told myself it was nothing. She was Diya’s age—hell, Diya’s best friend. That automatically put her off-limits. Untouchable. The kind of line you didn’t just cross, you didn’t even step near.
So why did I keep catching myself watching her when she walked past?
Even later, when I came in for a drink, she nearly crashed into me in the hallway. She looked like I’d just caught her stealing something. Big eyes, flushed cheeks, clutching her dupatta like it was her last line of defense.
And then… our fingers brushed when I handed her the water bottle.
It was nothing. Just skin against skin for a second. But she jerked like I’d set her on fire.
And maybe I imagined it, but there was something in her eyes. Something that wasn’t just surprise. Something that made my jaw tighten and my chest feel uncomfortably warm.
She’s just a kid, I reminded myself again.
But if that was true… why the hell couldn’t I stop thinking about the way she looked at me?
The afternoon passed quietly after I finished washing the car. I’d retreated to my room with a cold drink, scrolling aimlessly on my phone. The house wasn’t usually this still—Diya was a walking storm of chatter, especially when her best friend was around.
I stepped into the hallway on my way to the kitchen when I heard faint voices drifting from Diya’s room.
“…no, I wasn’t staring!” Niyati’s voice, low and defensive, followed by muffled laughter.
“Yes, you were,” Diya teased. “You went all quiet and weird the second he—”
The rest was swallowed by giggles.
I paused mid-step, leaning slightly toward the half-open door. They were talking about someone. A him. I had a decent guess who that might be, but I wasn’t about to assume.
Niyati’s voice dropped softer. “Shut up, Diya. He’ll hear you.”
That made me huff a quiet laugh under my breath. I didn’t know if I was the ‘he’ in question, but something in her tone—nervous, flustered—stuck with me.
I kept walking before either of them realized I was lingering, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Still, as I twisted the cap open, the conversation replayed in my head.
I’d always known Niyati as Diya’s friend—the one who tagged along to our family dinners, made terrible puns, and never seemed shy about teasing me. But lately… she’d been different. Quieter. Watching me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
And now, apparently, telling Diya something she didn’t want me to overhear.
Maybe it was nothing.
Or maybe… I’d start paying a little more attention.
Later that evening, I passed by the living room where Diya and Niyati were sprawled on the couch, watching some crime series.
I slowed my steps, pretending to check something on my phone as I walked in. “You two want anything from the kitchen?”
Diya barely looked up. “Chips.”
Niyati shook her head quickly. “No, I’m good.” But I noticed the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt.
Interesting.
I walked behind the couch instead of around it, just to see if she’d follow me with her eyes. Sure enough, I caught the faintest flicker of movement—her head turning just a fraction—before she snapped her gaze back to the TV like it had burned her.
“Sure? Not even water?”
She glanced up at me this time—just briefly—and there it was again. That split-second hesitation, like she wasn’t sure if she should meet my eyes at all.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly.
“Alright.” I let a small smirk tug at my lips as I turned toward the kitchen. I didn’t know what exactly was going on in her head, but there was definitely something there.
And now I was curious enough to find out.
The next day, I made a little experiment out of it. Nothing obvious. Nothing Diya would notice. Just… moments.
Test one—the kitchen doorway. Niyati was making tea while Diya was upstairs.
I stepped in quietly, leaning against the doorway without saying anything.
It took maybe five seconds before she noticed me.
Her shoulders stiffened, the spoon in her hand pausing mid-stir.
She didn’t look up right away, but I caught the tiniest bite of her lip before she finally glanced over her shoulder. Busted.
Test two—the living room stretch. Later, I happened to be doing some light stretches while she scrolled through her phone. Nothing showy, just enough to make my T-shirt shift when I raised my arms. Her eyes flicked up once. Then again. And again. She thought she was subtle. She wasn’t.
Test three—the hallway pass. That evening, as she was heading out, I timed my walk so we’d pass in the hallway. Instead of stepping aside quickly, I slowed just enough to make her squeeze past me. I felt it—the faint hitch in her breath—before she muttered a quiet “Sorry” and kept moving.
Three tests. Three hits. Yeah… she was definitely looking.
And now the question wasn’t if I’d catch her again. It was how far she’d let this little game go.
Something was different about Ansh today. He wasn’t ignoring me like he usually did. No, it was worse. He was around.
In the kitchen doorway while I made tea, just standing there, silent, like he owned the air I was breathing. I told myself not to look, but of course I did—and of course he saw me.
Then in the living room, stretching like he’d suddenly decided to train for the Olympics. Every time I tried to focus on my phone, my eyes drifted up to him. Like they had a mind of their own.
And then the hallway thing. Oh God, the hallway thing. He didn’t move aside right away, just slowed down enough that I had to brush past him. I felt my heart stutter like I’d touched a live wire.
By the time I made it to my room, my face was hot and my stomach was in knots. Was I that obvious? Did he know?
The thought made my pulse race—part fear, part something else. Because even if he did know… even if I was making a complete fool of myself… I didn’t want to stop looking.
The world was perfect this morning. Sunlight spilling through my curtains, a cool breeze sneaking in, the faint hum of life outside. I was curled under my blanket, half-asleep, drifting in that blissful space between dreaming and waking.
“Niyati, get up.” My mother’s voice yanked me back to reality.
I groaned. “Five more minutes…”
But she didn’t leave. Instead, she sat on the edge of my bed, her hand warm on my arm. “We have to go to your uncle’s house. Your father’s cousin passed away. We’ll be gone for two days.”
I rolled over, frowning. “Two days? Ma, I can’t. My exams are coming up. I need to study.”
“I know,” she said calmly. “That’s why your papa and I decided to leave you at Diya’s house. I already called Mrs. Raizada. She’s happy to have you.”
My eyes flew open. Two days. In the Raizada house. With Ansh Raizada’s room right next to mine.
“Ma, I don’t think—”
“No arguments,” she cut me off. “Everything is settled. I’ll drop you in an hour. Pack what you need.”
“Can’t I just… stay here? Alone?”
Her look said absolutely not.
And just like that, my fate was sealed.
I dragged myself to the wardrobe, grabbing a few essentials. No need to pack much—worst case, I could just run home if I forgot something. After all, we lived in the same neighbourhood.
But still… two whole days. Two whole nights. With Ansh Raizada practically on the other side of the wall. And my heart was already racing.
An hour later, I was standing outside the Raizada house with my overnight bag in one hand and my mother’s be-on-your-best-behavior speech still ringing in my ears.
The big wooden door opened before I could even ring the bell.
And there he was.
Ansh Raizada. Messy hair, plain black t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, sweatpants hanging low on his hips like he’d just rolled out of bed. Not fair. Not fair at all.
For a second, my brain went blank. The polite ‘hi’ I’d been planning vanished somewhere in the back of my throat.
His eyes flicked over me—quick, unreadable—before he stepped aside. “They’re inside. Come in.”
I managed a nod, stepping past him and pretending my pulse wasn’t slamming against my ribs. The faint scent of his cologne hit me as I brushed by, and my stupid brain filed it away like it was precious information.
Mrs. Raizada came bustling out from the kitchen with Diya right behind her. “Ah, Niyati! Come, beta, make yourself at home.”
Diya grinned and hugged me. “Finally! Sleepover time!”
I smiled back, trying to look like a normal human being and not like someone who was acutely aware that her crush was still standing behind her in the hallway.
My mother exchanged a few words with Mrs. Raizada, then left with a wave. And suddenly, the reality of it all sank in.
Two days. Two nights. His room right next to mine.
I didn’t dare look at him again—but I could feel him there, his quiet presence like a gravitational pull I couldn’t escape.
This was going to be… dangerous.