7

Tara slipped into a pair of simple jeans and a fitted t-shirt, pulling a warm beige sweater over it. The cold was setting in, that early Oxford autumn crispness she usually loved—today it just felt heavier. She left her hair open, caramel layers falling just under her chest, still damp from the shower. She brushed through it once more, more out of habit than anything, and took a deep breath.

She made her way downstairs to the guys' flat. Her fingers hovered over the door for a second longer than they should have, but she knocked.

Aisha answered, eyes immediately searching hers—checking. Tara smiled lightly, and Aisha seemed to relax. "Okay, let's go," she said.

The group was already gathered—Rohan adjusting his jacket, Aakash half-laughing at something Aria had said. And Aryan. Standing by the counter in a white sweatshirt and blue jeans, like nothing had changed. Like the time hadn't destroyed them. Like he didn't do what he did.

Tara felt her heart lurch, but she forced herself to look past him. He was nothing. Nothing.

They all made their way to the lift. Tara found herself somewhere in the middle. The others were chatting, blending so easily—like this was normal. Like he wasn't there. She kept her eyes down, listening but not really hearing.

The lift doors slid open, and they stepped in. More students piled in behind them. It was crowded, warm, bodies pressed together.

Someone nudged her from behind, pushing her back slightly.

She felt him.

Her back met his chest.

The air shifted. Her body recognized his before her mind did. That cruel, familiar heat seeped through her sweater. His scent—subtle, clean—wrapped around her like a noose. Her breath caught.

She told herself it was nothing. Just bodies, just a lift.

But then more people squeezed in, and she was pushed further into him. She stumbled.

His hands were on her waist. Steady. Sure. Like he had done it a thousand times.

She froze.

His grip was gentle, but there was no hesitation. His fingers pressed firmly, like he knew exactly where they belonged—like nothing had changed. Like she was still his.

Her skin burned under his touch, but not from warmth. It was something else—something she didn't want to name.

The doors opened.

Tara pushed forward, almost tripping in her rush to get out.

She didn't look back. She didn't breathe until she was outside.

The others were walking ahead, blending in again, laughing like nothing had happened. Tara followed quietly, tucking herself back into the edges of the group.

She kept her eyes down until she felt him next to her again.

His presence was unmistakable.

"Watch your step," he said, voice low—just for her.

Her steps faltered, and she looked down. A speed bump. She hadn't noticed.

She stiffened.

Gathering herself, she was about to walk ahead when his hand closed around hers.

Warm. Familiar.

Her chest tightened.

He turned her slightly toward him. Her heart pounded so hard it drowned everything else out.

He leaned in, his voice low, steady. "Can we talk, Tara?"

Her name. From his mouth. After two years.

Her throat closed.

She didn't speak. She didn't move.

She wrenched her hand free and stepped back.

Then she turned and walked straight to Aisha, falling into step beside her.

She didn't glance back.

But she felt him standing there. Watching her leave.

~•~

The canteen was buzzing with life—the kind of midday chaos that felt like background music to uni life. Tara sat at the end of the table with Aisha and Aria beside her, Rohan and Aakash across from them. Their trays were scattered with half-eaten sandwiches and cups of coffee. Laughter came easily from everyone—except her.

Aryan sat a little away, quiet, but there. His presence was like static in her chest, something she was painfully aware of no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. He was talking to Aakash about some module, his voice low but unmistakable. She kept her gaze fixed on her coffee, stirring it even though there was nothing left to dissolve.

Then, a voice cut through the noise.

"Oye Aryan?! What the hell, man!"

Heads turned.

A tall guy, familiar face from around campus—Karan—grinned as he walked over, hands in his pockets, surprise lighting up his face.

Aryan stood, a slow smile forming. "Karan, bro!"

They hugged in that quick, brotherly way guys did, patting each other's backs.

Karan shook his head, laughing. "Man, this is crazy. What a surprise! When did you get back? What's going on?"

Tara's hand tightened around her cup. She didn't lift her eyes, but she listened.

Aryan rubbed the back of his neck, his smile dimming slightly. "Yeah... turbulent stuff, but I'm back now."

Rohan leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Wait, back? You were here in first year?"

There was a pause—so brief it could've been missed, but Tara caught it. That hesitation. She knew it well.

"Yeah," Aryan said, his tone carefully casual. "I had to manage some things in second year... but I'm back now."

Rohan frowned lightly. "How'd you do second year, then?"

Aryan's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice smooth. "Online. Got things sorted... somehow."

Rohan nodded, satisfied. "Damn, fair play, bro. That must've been tough."

Tara felt her heart twist—he could manage uni, but not text back? She stared at her coffee, the brown liquid blurring. Her fingers curled into a fist under the table.

She didn't say a word.

Karan clapped Aryan's shoulder. "Good, man. So... you're back for good, right? Full send? You better be joining the team again, we need you."

Aryan chuckled, but his tone was lower, laced with something deeper. "Yeah... there's a lot I want back."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Tara felt it. That shift.

She didn't need to look up to know his eyes were on her.

She felt them—burning into her, waiting.

She didn't give him the satisfaction.

She kept staring at her coffee, her face blank, but inside, her heart was a storm.

💜