Chapter 8: CHAPTER 8

The bitterness hit me the moment I took the first sip of coffee that morning. I spat it out immediately, frowning in confusion and annoyance. “What the hell is this?” I muttered, glaring at the mug as if it had personally offended me.

Kruti’s laughter from the other side of the kitchen caught my attention. I turned to see her grinning like she’d won some sort of competition.

“Kruti,” I said sharply, narrowing my eyes. “What did you do to my coffee?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, feigning innocence as she leaned against the counter. “I just switched the sugar with salt. You know, for fun.”

“For fun?” I repeated, incredulous. “You ruined my coffee for fun?”

She shrugged, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “You’re always so grumpy in the mornings. I thought maybe a little prank would make you smile.”

I stared at her, my irritation bubbling over. “Krutika, I don’t need your pranks to ‘make me smile.’ I need a proper cup of coffee. That’s it.”

Her smile faltered slightly, but she quickly masked it with another casual shrug. “Alright, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Relax. I’ll make you another one.”

I shook my head, already annoyed beyond words. “Don’t bother. I’ve lost my appetite.” I pushed the mug away and grabbed my bag, heading for the door.

“Devansh—” she started, but I cut her off with a sharp look.

“Don’t. Just... don’t,” I said, my tone harsher than I intended. I didn’t wait for her response as I stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

The irritation lingered throughout the morning. Even as I stood in front of my class, lecturing on a topic I usually enjoyed, my mind kept wandering back to that stupid prank.

I couldn’t shake off the frustration, nor could I ignore the way her face had fallen when I snapped at her.

“Professor?” A student’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see the entire class staring at me expectantly. Apparently, I’d pause mid-sentence, lost in my own head.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. “Where was I?”

The rest of the lecture went by in a blur, my focus scattered. But what really threw me off was Kruti. Usually, she’d be the most active student in my class—always raising her hand, throwing out sarcastic remarks, or giving me her signature teasing grin. But today, she was unusually quiet. She sat in the back, her head down, barely participating.

It bothered me more than I cared to admit.

By the time the lunch break rolled around, I was half-expecting her to barge into my office like she always did, chattering away about whatever nonsense was on her mind. But the minutes ticked by, and the door remained closed.

I tried to focus on grading papers, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her. She hadn’t even looked at me once during class. And now she was skipping our usual lunchtime banter? Something was definitely wrong.

“Don’t overthink it,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. “She’s probably just busy.”

But the unease lingered.

By the time I got home that evening, I was still on edge. The house was unusually quiet, and for a moment, I thought Kruti wasn’t home. But then I saw the light spilling out from under her bedroom door.

I hesitated for a moment before knocking. There was no response. Frowning, I pushed the door open slightly and peeked inside.

She was sitting at her desk, her textbooks spread out in front of her. Her head was down, her pen moving across the page in slow, deliberate strokes. She didn’t even look up when I entered.

“Kruti,” I said, my voice softer than usual.

“Hmm?” She didn’t look up.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, her tone flat.

I frowned, stepping further into the room. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

She shrugged, still not looking at me. “Just tired, I guess.”

I knew she was lying. The usual spark in her voice was gone, replaced by a dull monotone that didn’t suit her at all. And it was my fault. I’d snapped at her this morning over something stupid, and now she was shutting me out.

For the rest of the evening, she stayed in her room, barely saying a word. The silence was deafening, and it gave me far too much time to think.

I couldn’t ignore the parallels between this and my own childhood. The way I used to sit in my room, drowning in silence, because no one wanted to talk to me. Except for my cousins, who’d always tried to cheer me up, I’d been left alone more times than I cared to remember. And now I was doing the same thing to her—pushing her away, making her feel like she wasn’t wanted.

I couldn’t let it continue.

An hour later, I was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. Cooking wasn’t exactly my strong suit, but I knew how to make a few things. And if there was one thing Kruti loved, it was aloo paratha and shahi paneer.

I rolled up my sleeves and got to work, trying to remember the recipes my mother had taught me years ago. The process was messy, and I burned myself twice, but eventually, I managed to whip up a decent-looking meal. I plated it carefully, making sure everything looked perfect before carrying it to her room.

Knocking softly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. She looked up from her desk, her eyes widening slightly when she saw the tray in my hands.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion.

“Dinner,” I said simply, setting the tray down on her desk. “I made it for you.”

She blinked, staring at the food in disbelief. “You... made this? For me?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” I muttered, scratching the back of my neck. “I just thought you might be hungry.”

Her lips twitched, as if she was trying to hide a smile. “My favorite?”

“Yeah, well,” I said, avoiding her gaze. “Consider it an apology.”

She tilted her head, studying me carefully. “An apology for what?”

“For snapping at you this morning,” I admitted reluctantly. “And for... everything else.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, I thought she was going to say something sarcastic or tease me like she always did. But instead, she gave me a small, genuine smile.

“I guess… maybe you've changed a little bit,” she chuckled.

“shut up.” I could feel the heat of my cheeks rising.

“Oh please! You're the cutest and the grumpiest thing ever!”

I nodded, feeling a strange warmth spread through my chest at her words. “Just... eat it before it gets cold.”

She chuckled, picking up a piece of paratha and taking a bite. Her eyes lit up, and she let out a satisfied hum. “This is amazing. Who knew you could cook?”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

For the first time all day, the tension between us seemed to ease. And as I watched her eat, her usual energy slowly returning, I felt a sense of relief I couldn’t quite explain.

Maybe things weren’t perfect between us. But for now, this was enough.