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The bell had rung five minutes ago.

The corridors of St. Xavier's Senior Secondary School were empty now, the sound of students settling down fading into the walls.

Except for Class 12-C, where a pair of anxious brown eyes stared at the door.

[Author's POV]

Some moments in life don't make noise - they just quietly settle inside you, changing everything. For Anvi, it wasn't love. Not yet. But it was the beginning of something dangerously beautiful.

Anvi Verma, 17, sat on the last bench of the class, third seat from the window. A girl who never craved the spotlight. She had long, unkempt hair tied in a loose braid, and eyes that always seemed like they were hiding something.

Physics period.

The most hated one.

But not because of the subject.

Because this was the only period where her breath got heavier, her hands colder, and her heartbeat uncontrollably fast - something she herself didn't understand... yet.

Then, the door opened.

He walked in, the sound of his boots crisp against the floor tiles.

Professor Aarav Sen.

Young, serious, and sharply dressed. He looked nothing like a school teacher - more like a character straight out of a book. Hair slightly tousled, glasses on, and a notebook in hand.

Without looking up, he said in his deep voice, "Good morning, class."

The students chorused lazily, "Good morning, Sir."

But her lips refused to part. She simply stared.

"Physics" felt less like science and more like survival now.

---

"Let's revise Newton's laws today," he said, writing on the board with a sharp screech of chalk.

"Anvi Verma," he said suddenly, glancing toward the back, "Can you come solve this?"

A wave of silence.

Her breath caught.

His eyes locked with hers.

Why her?

Why always her?

[Author's POV]

Maybe he didn't realize how her name sounded in his voice. Maybe he did. But for her, every time he called it, it echoed a little longer in her chest.

Hesitatingly, she stood up, adjusting her dupatta nervously.

She walked to the board slowly, painfully aware of how close he stood.

As she began to solve, her hand trembled slightly.

He noticed.

"Relax," he whispered, just for her. "Darne ki zarurat nahi hai."

Her hand froze.

She didn't say a word. Just nodded and continued solving.

But inside her... something had started.

Something silent.

Something forbidden.

Something she didn't dare name.

---

After class, as students poured out, she stayed back - pretending to organize her notes.

He was packing his stuff when he looked up.

"Anvi," he said gently, "Kuch poochhna tha?"

She froze.

She hadn't thought this far.

"Woh... actually sir..." she fumbled, "Kal ka derivation samajh nahi aaya tha..."

He walked over, standing beside her, flipping through her notebook.

Their shoulders almost touched.

Too close.

His cologne mixed with the old smell of chalk - a strange, addictive comfort.

"Ye step samajh nahi aaya?" he asked, tapping the equation.

"Hmm..." she nodded, her voice low.

"Dekho..." he leaned closer, explaining softly.

But she wasn't listening to the physics.

She was listening to his heartbeat. His voice. His breath.

And for the first time in her life...

Physics made her feel something.

Not in the mind.

In the heart.

[Author's POV]

It was foolish, yes. Even she knew that. But the heart never asks for permission before it begins to feel. It simply... dives. No safety nets. No logic.

---

That night, Anvi stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

She knew she shouldn't feel this way.

He was her professor. Twice her age. Out of bounds.

But how do you tell a heart what's right?

She scribbled something in her diary:

> "Woh sirf ek teacher nahi hai...

Unki har baat dil ke kisi khaas kone mein jaake ruk jaati hai.

Shayad mujhe unse darr nahi lagta...

Shayad mujhe unse... kuch aur hi mehsoos hota hai."

She quickly shut the diary, ashamed.

But a small smile danced on her lips.

And a tear rolled down.

[Author's POV]

Guilt and desire are strange twins. They grow together, feeding off each other. That night, Anvi tasted both. And still, she smiled - because some feelings are worth the ache.

---

The next few weeks were the same.

He would take classes.

She would pretend to focus.

But her heart always betrayed her.

Sometimes he would say something softly and she'd hold her breath.

Sometimes he'd look at her while explaining, and her world would slow down.

She started staying after class often - asking doubts she already knew.

And he always helped, patiently.

Maybe he knew.

Maybe he didn't.

But she... was falling.

Deep.

Quietly.

Painfully.

[Author's POV]

Not every love story begins with confessions. Some begin with glances. With the quiet ache of unspoken words. With questions that dare not become answers.

---

One day, it rained heavily.

She was standing alone under the porch after school - everyone else had already left.

Her umbrella had broken. She had no way home.

He came out of the staff room and saw her.

"Abhi tak yahin ho?" he asked.

She nodded shyly.

"Chalo, main chhod deta hoon."

She hesitated. "Nahi sir, it's okay-"

He smiled. "Baarish mein bheegna chahti ho?"

And that's how she ended up in his car.

Just the two of them.

Raindrops painting the windows.

Silence inside.

Her heart screaming.

She looked at him as he drove.

He looked ahead, his jaw clenched, his hands firm on the steering.

She wanted to freeze the moment forever.

Because she knew...

These moments don't last.

Not in the real world.

[Author's POV]

Some silences are heavier than a thousand words. In that car, between raindrops and glances, two hearts said everything they weren't supposed to say. And neither dared to listen.

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To Be Continued...

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