After the library moment, normal became performance.
They still laughed. Still shared notes. Still walked home together.
But every silence carried electricity.
Every accidental touch lingered half a second too long.
Awareness is a loud companion.
Mira tried to outrun it.
She talked more. Joked harder. Filled space before feelings could.
Arjun did the opposite.
He grew quieter.
Watching.
Measuring.
Afraid that one wrong word might collapse whatever fragile balance they still had.
For three days they danced around the truth like people circling a fire.
Warm.
Terrified.
Drawn in anyway.
The confession didn't happen dramatically.
No rain. No music.
Just an empty classroom after a cancelled lecture.
They sat side by side, backpacks on the floor, the building unusually silent.
Mira stared at the board.
"I hate this," she blurted.
Arjun turned. "Hate what?"
"This… pretending," she said, gesturing vaguely between them.
His chest tightened.
He didn't rescue her from the edge.
He stepped onto it with her.
"Me too."
The room held its breath.
She laughed nervously.
"Good. Because if you said you didn't notice anything, I was going to scream."
"I noticed," he said softly.
She looked at him then.
Direct. Unprotected.
The air felt thin.
"I think about you too much," she whispered.
The sentence shook.
But it stood.
Arjun swallowed.
"I don't think I ever stop."
Silence.
Then relief hit her face like sunrise.
"Oh thank God," she breathed.
And suddenly they were both laughing — not because it was funny, but because fear had finally broken.
The laughter faded into something quieter.
Real.
"So… what now?" Mira asked.
It was the most honest question in the world.
Arjun considered it.
"We don't rush," he said carefully.
"We don't pretend this is small. But we don't let it scare us either."
She studied him.
"You're calm," she said.
"I'm terrified," he admitted.
She smiled.
"Good. I trust terrified people more than confident ones."
He extended his hand slowly.
Not as a joke.
Not as comfort.
As a decision.
She took it.
This time neither pulled away.
There was no kiss.
No dramatic promise.
Just two hands locked between them and a shared understanding:
We're crossing this together.
Whatever it becomes.
Outside, the campus buzzed like any other day.
Inside that empty classroom,
a love story quietly said its first true word.
Yes.