Chapter 8: CHAPTER 6

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Reyansh's POV

The door to my office creaked open, and I stepped inside, the familiar scent of old books and chalk dust wrapping around me like a well-worn sweater.

I paused, leaning against the desk as I stared at the clutter of papers and ungraded assignments.

“What have I done?” I muttered to myself, the weight of my own decisions crashing down like a poorly thrown chalk eraser.

How had I become so… frank with my students? I liked to think of myself as the funny but stern professor, but lately, I felt more like a stand-up comedian at an open mic night, desperately trying to keep the audience from booing me off stage.

My thoughts drifted to Noor, my most chaotic student. She had a knack for turning my lectures into a circus, with her wild ideas and those green eyes that sparkled with mischief.

Just the other day, she had suggested that we solve math problems using interpretive dance.

I chuckled aloud at the memory, shaking my head. “If only the Pythagorean theorem could be solved with jazz hands,” I mused.

After a long day of contemplating my questionable teaching methods, I returned home.

My laptop beckoned me with the promise of another online class. I typed out a message to the college group, my fingers flying over the keys typing a warning with class link.

I chuckled at my own seriousness, knowing full well that my warning would likely just spark more chaos.

During the class students were lacking somewhere. I was getting irritated that how careless and irresponsible they are towards their studies.

I was just trying to help them out when I heard saying something about my wife, the one I don't have.

Woww!!

I told her that I'm single so she may now leave the class.

Like seriously?

She was pointing out my married life whether I have it or not. Arghh

And after sometime I wrapped the class.

The aroma of spiced lentils and fried vegetables wafted through the house, a warm invitation that tugged at my stomach as I descended the stairs.

Each step felt heavier, a reminder of the looming conversation waiting for me at the dining table.

I could already hear maa’s voice mingling with the clattering of dishes, a symphony of family life that both comforted and unnerved me.

“Ansh, finally!” My mother’s voice rang out, bright and cheerful, as I stepped into the dining room.

The table was set meticulously, each plate aligned with care.

My father sat at the head, his expression already betraying irritation.

Dadu (grandfather), in his usual spot, shot me a glance that was more scrutinizing than welcoming.

“Late again?” My father’s tone was sharp, cutting through the warmth. “How hard is it to manage a simple schedule?”

“It was an online class, Papa,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I slid into my chair. “It ran longer than expected.”

“Online class, online excuses,” he scoffed, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

I could feel dadu’s eyes on me, steady and unyielding, like an iron gate. I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of the distance between us, both physical and emotional.

“Your father just wants what’s best for you, Ansh,” maa interjected, her voice smooth like honey, attempting to bridge the chasm. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Best for me?” I echoed, my frustration bubbling just below the surface. “Or what’s best for his business?”

“Enough,” Dadu’s voice boomed, silencing us all. “This is a dinner table, not a battleground.” He leaned back, eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. “You’ll respect your father, Reyansh.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to nod. “Of course, Dadu.”

“Good.” He turned his gaze to my father, who looked momentarily appeased but still simmering.

I could almost hear the gears turning in my dad’s mind, strategizing his next move.

“Ansh,” maa said, her tone shifting from caution to something lighter, “we have a surprise for you tonight.”

A surprise? My heart raced, but not in the way she likely intended. “What is it?”

“Your mother has met a lovely girl,” my father said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “She thinks you should meet her.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. “Oh, another one of your setups?” I forced a laugh, trying to mask my panic. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

“Her name is Priya,” maa continued, undeterred. “She’s very sweet, and I think you’ll like her.”

“Maa, I’m not interested in meeting anyone,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “I want to focus on my career, not some arranged marriage.”

“Career?” My father leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You mean your hobby? Teaching isn’t a real job, Reyansh.”

“Teaching is my calling!” I shot back, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I love what I do. It’s more than a job; it’s about shaping minds.”

“Shaping minds?” My father laughed, a harsh, derisive sound. “You mean filling them with useless numbers? When will you realize that you need to be practical?”

“And when will you realize that I’m not you?” I spat, the tension in the room thickening.

“Boys, please!” Maa’s voice was desperate, a plea to restore peace. “No fighting at the table.”

“Not fighting, Maa, just discussing,” I replied, my tone clipped. “Discussing how I refuse to live my life according to your plans.”

“Then what’s the plan, Reyansh?” my father challenged, leaning back as if he were a judge in a courtroom. “To stay single and waste your potential? You have a chance to inherit a successful business.”

I shook my head, frustration bubbling over. “I don’t want your business! I want to teach.”

“Teaching doesn’t pay the bills,” my grandfather interjected, his voice low and gravelly. “You need security, a future.”

“Security?” I laughed, a bitter sound. “Is that what you call it? Living a life that isn’t mine? I’d rather take my chances with numbers than be trapped in a suit, managing a company I never wanted.”

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The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken words. Maa looked between us, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, desperate to find the right words.

“Tomorrow evening, you’ll meet Priya,” she said finally, her voice firm. “I’ve arranged it. No arguments.”

“Maa—”

“Enough!” my father’s voice thundered, cutting me off. “You will meet her, Reyansh. This is not a request; it’s an order.”

I stared at him, disbelief coursing through me. “You can’t just order me to meet someone.”

“Watch me.” He leaned back, his expression hardened. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes, the way he relished this power over me.

“Maybe Priya will change your mind,” Maa added, her tone softer this time, almost hopeful.

“I doubt it,” I mumbled under my breath, but I knew there was no point in arguing. They had made their decision, and I was just the reluctant pawn in their game.

“Reyansh, you need to think about your future,” my grandfather said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You’re not a boy anymore. It’s time to settle down.”

“Settle down?” I echoed, frustration boiling over. “You all talk about settling down like it’s the answer to everything. What if I don’t want that?”

“Then what do you want?” my father challenged, his voice slicing through the tension. “Do you have a plan? Because if you don’t, I’ll make one for you.”

“I don’t want your plan!” I shouted, slamming my hand on the table. “I want to be happy. I want to teach, to inspire, to—”

“—waste your life?” my father interrupted, his eyes blazing. “You think that’s happiness? You’re living a fantasy, Reyansh.”

“Maybe you’re the one living a fantasy,” I shot back, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Business doesn’t equal happiness. It’s just a means to an end.”

“Ansh, please,” Maa pleaded again, her voice trembling. “Just meet her. For me?”

I looked at her, the desperation in her eyes cutting through my anger. “Maa, I—”

“Just meet her,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “Please.”

I took a deep breath, the weight of her hope pressing down on me. “Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll meet her.”

“Great!” She beamed, relief washing over her features. “You won’t regret it.”

“Regret?” I muttered to myself, pushing my plate away. “I’m already regretting it.”

The conversation shifted after that, my parents discussing trivial matters while I sat in a haze, my mind racing.

I felt trapped in a web woven by their expectations, each thread tightening around me with every passing moment.

As dinner concluded, I excused myself, needing space to breathe. I climbed the stairs, the familiar creak of the wood beneath my feet echoing my turmoil.

I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts spiraling.

Tomorrow, I’d meet a girl. What was her name?

Umm Priya. A stranger, an unknown variable in my already complicated life.

What would she be like? Would she even want to marry someone like me—a math professor with dreams that didn’t fit the mold?

The clock ticked loudly across the room, each second a reminder of the decision I couldn’t escape.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come, but all I could think about was the weight of the expectations I was carrying.

And just like that, I drifted into a restless sleep, the echoes of the dinner table still reverberating in my mind.

Noor's POV

The next day corridor buzzed with the usual chaos of college life—students rushing past, laughter echoing off the walls, and the occasional shout from a group huddled around a vending machine.

I tightened my grip on my backpack, making my way to class when I spotted Karan Grover and his entourage loitering near the lockers. Great, just what I needed. I rolled my eyes and picked up my pace, but Karan had other plans.

“Hey, Noor!” His voice sliced through the chatter, smooth like butter and just as greasy. “What’s up? Still playing the queen of rejection?”

I turned to face him, a smirk already forming on my lips. “Funny, I was just thinking how much I’d rather be anywhere but here—especially with you.”

The boys around him laughed, but their amusement didn’t reach Karan's eyes.

“You think you’re funny? Just wait. You’ll regret talking to me like that.”

“Regret? Oh please,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “I can hardly wait for my future filled with your endless charm and… charisma.” I exaggerated the last word, letting it drip with sarcasm.

“Come on, Noor, lighten up!” one of his friends chimed in. “It’s just a joke!”

“Yeah, and I’m just a target,” I said, flicking my hair over my shoulder. “Next time, try aiming for someone who actually cares.”

Karan stepped forward, his expression shifting from cocky to a bit serious.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, girl.”

“Dangerous? Please!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “You think you’re a villain in some high school drama? Newsflash: I’m not in your story, Karan.”

With that, I turned on my heel and strutted away, feeling the weight of his glare on my back. My heart raced—not from fear, but from the thrill of standing up for myself.

The day passed in a blur of lectures and half-hearted attempts to focus on notes while my mind replayed the scene in the corridor.

Meeting Aarushi in the library felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air, and we were both craving some late-night snacks.

“Hey, are you coming or what?” Aarushi called from her table, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ve got a killer study plan that involves pizza and laughter tonight.”

“Pizza and laughter? Now that’s a study plan I can get behind!” I grinned, pulling out a chair and plopping down across from her.

“Did you survive today without losing your mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Just barely. It's just Karan again, but I told him I was already busy regretting my life choices—like this study session.”

Aarushi burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the quiet library. “You’re unstoppable! What did he say?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “He said I’d regret it. I’m not sure what he meant, but I think he’s just mad he can’t handle my Sigma vibes.”

She snorted. “Sigma vibes? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Hey, I’m just keeping it real,” I shot back, pretending to be offended. “Besides, you know Karan’s just a wannabe tough guy. He thrives on attention.”

“True. But you have to admit, he’s got kind of a… look?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows in mock seriousness.

“A look? More like a bad haircut and an overinflated ego,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Let’s focus on more important things, like how we’re going to ace our finals!”

We dove into our study materials, the conversation flowing effortlessly between formulas and the occasional joke. The atmosphere was light, the tension of the day fading with each laugh.

“Okay, but for real,” Aarushi said, her expression turning serious for a moment. “You’re not worried about Karan? He can be… well, intense.”

I shrugged, stuffing a piece of pizza into my mouth. “Let him be intense. I’ve dealt with worse than some college playboy who thinks he’s all that. I’ve got my friends and my goals. That’s all that matters right now.”

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2290 words.

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