3
The campus library was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages. Adhira sat at a large oak table in the back corner. She had her laptop open, her books stacked like a fortress wall, and her guard dialed all the way up to maximum.
She didn't know what to expect. Ayan had hyped this guy up as some sort of coding monk, but her experience with college boys had taught her to prepare for the worst. She was already mentally rehearsing how to shut down any unwanted flirting or lingering stares.
"Excuse me."
The voice was soft, deep, and incredibly polite.
Adhira looked up. Standing on the opposite side of the table was a tall boy with slightly tousled dark hair and a neat buttoned shirt.
He wasn't swaggering or smirking. He was actually clutching a thick textbook to his chest like a shield, his eyes fixed firmly on the empty chair across from her rather than on her face.
"Are you Adhira?" he asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
"Yes," she said, her tone cautious but curious. "You must be Shreyash."
He gave a stiff, jerky nod. Then, to Adhira's utter bewilderment, he didn't pull up the chair next to her.
Instead, he pulled out the chair at the absolute farthest diagonal corner of the large table, practically pinning himself against the library wall.
He sat down, placed his book on the table, and finally risked a quick glance at her before staring down at his hands.
"Ayan said you were having trouble with pointers," Shreyash said. He didn't ask how she was. He didn't ask about her day. He just opened his notebook to a fresh page and took out a pen.
Adhira blinked, slightly thrown off by the sheer distance between them. "Uh, yeah. I keep getting segmentation faults. I don't really understand how memory allocation works."
"Okay," Shreyash murmured. He didn't ask her to pass her laptop. He didn't lean across the table to invade her space. He just started writing on his own notepad in incredibly neat, precise handwriting.
"A pointer is just a variable that stores the memory address of another variable," he explained, his voice steadying now that he was in his element.
He slid the notebook across the vast expanse of the table toward her.
"Think of the memory as a giant grid of lockers.
The variable is what's inside the locker, and the pointer is the locker number written on a sticky note. "
Adhira looked at the paper, then up at him. He was already looking away, his focus entirely on the corner of her laptop screen.
For the next hour, it was pure, unadulterated academics.
Shreyash was a phenomenal teacher. He broke down complex logic into small, simple pieces.
He never patronized her, he never sighed when she didn't get it the first time, and most importantly...
he never looked at her like she was a commodity.
In fact, he barely looked at her at all.
He kept a solid three feet of distance at all times, treating her with a level of cautious respect she hadn't experienced since she stepped foot on campus.
By the time they finished the module, Adhira's code was running flawlessly.
"It compiled," Adhira breathed, staring at the green text on her screen in absolute wonder. She looked up, a genuine, bright smile breaking across her face. "It actually compiled. You're a genius."
Shreyash immediately looked down at his hands, the tips of his ears turning a faint shade of pink. "It was just basic logic. You did the typing."
Adhira chuckled, closing her laptop. The tight knot of anxiety that usually sat in her chest when she was alone with a guy had completely vanished. She felt safe. Completely and utterly safe.
"Well, thank you," she said, reaching for her phone. "I still have three more assignments this semester. We should probably exchange numbers so we can figure out when to meet next."
The moment the words left her mouth, Shreyash froze.
The faint pink on his ears aggressively spread to his cheeks and down his neck. He looked visibly panicked, his eyes darting toward the library exit as if contemplating a run for it. He fumbled with his pen, dropping it onto the table with a loud clatter, then scrambled to pick it up.
"I... um..." Shreyash stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I can just... I can just get Ayan's schedule."
Adhira paused, her phone hovering mid air. "Ayan's schedule? Why?"
Shreyash swallowed hard, refusing to meet her eyes.
He looked at the edge of the table like it held the secrets of the universe.
"Because... I know you don't like hanging around guys.
Ayan mentioned you like your space. So, I figured we could just coordinate our next study session only when Ayan is free to sit with us.
Just... just so you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. "
Adhira sat perfectly still, her breath catching in her throat.
She looked at this boy, this incredibly smart, handsome guy who had spent the last hour practically glued to the wall just to give her space.
He wasn't trying to get her number to text her late at night.
He wasn't trying to use her brother to get to her.
He was actively trying to include her overprotective brother in their plans, strictly out of respect for her boundaries.
In that single, quiet moment in the library... the heavy, titanium walls Adhira had spent years building around her heart simply evaporated.
Ayan was right. Shreyash was pure, fiercely respectful, and intensely shy. He was entirely harmless.
A soft, very real smile touched Adhira's lips. She slid her notebook across the table, tapping the corner of the page where she had just scribbled down ten digits.
"Ayan is useless and he eats all my snacks," Adhira said softly, her voice losing all its guarded edge. "You can just text me directly, Shreyash. I'm perfectly comfortable with you."
Shreyash looked at the phone number, then slowly looked up, his dark eyes finally meeting hers for the first time. The redness in his cheeks deepened, but he gave a small, hesitant nod, carefully copying the number into his own notebook like it was a highly sensitive piece of code.