After the day of the fallen books, Sunny no longer passed Rashi like a stranger.
He would nod when he saw her in the corridor. Sometimes he smiled. Sometimes he simply looked at her long enough to disturb her thoughts for the rest of the day.
And Rashi, who once walked through college unnoticed by herself, had begun noticing everything.
The sound of his laughter near the canteen.
The rhythm of his footsteps on the staircase.
The way girls turned to look when he crossed the courtyard.
She told herself she was only observing.
But her heart knew better.
One morning, she was waiting alone at the bus stop when a bike slowed near her.
Sunny.
He removed one hand from the handle and waved casually.
“Miss First-Year Literature,” he called.
She tried not to smile. “I have a name.”
“Yes,” he said. “Rashi. I remember.”
Then he drove away before she could reply.
That one sentence stayed with her all day.
He remembered.
Soon their meetings became frequent, though never planned.
At the library entrance.
Near the tea stall.
Outside the classroom block during lunch break.
Each time, they spoke a little more.
“What subject today?”
“Poetry.”
“Dangerous. Makes people fall in love.”
She rolled her eyes.
Another day—
“Why are you always serious?”
“I’m not serious.”
“You look like you’re carrying the nation’s problems.”
“And you look like you’ve never had one.”
He laughed loudly enough for others to stare.
Days passed like that.
Rashi began waiting for these moments without admitting it even to herself. She started carrying an extra handkerchief because nervous palms had become a new problem. She learned which corridor Sunny used after class. She learned the timing of his lunch break by accident… and then by habit.
Her friends noticed first.
“You smile alone these days,” said Kavya.
“I do not.”
“You do. And whenever Sunny passes, you suddenly become interested in walls.”
Rashi denied everything.
But that night she stood before the mirror longer than usual.
One afternoon, rain trapped students inside the main building. The corridors were crowded, windows misted, laughter echoing everywhere.
Rashi stood near the staircase railing, watching the rain fall in silver sheets.
Sunny came and stood beside her.
Neither spoke for a moment.
“Do you like rain?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It makes everything quiet.”
He looked at her sideways.
“You become louder in silence.”
She frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“It means…” he said softly, “when you don’t speak, your eyes do.”
Rashi’s breath caught.
Before she could answer, his friends called him from below.
He stepped away, then turned back.
“See you tomorrow, Rashi.”
It was the first time he said her name like it belonged somewhere close to him.
That night, sleep did not come easily.
The rain had stopped outside.
But inside her heart, something had just begun.