Riya’s wet sneakers squeak softly against the floor tiles as she makes her way down the aisle.
Water drags off the hem of Riya’s jeans, leaving a dark, dotted trail across the red oxide floor. The denim sticks to her shins like ice. She pulls back the wooden stool at the third bench on the left and slides into the narrow space, trying to ignore the forty pairs of eyes following her every move.
Beside her, Neel silently shifts his open notebook three inches to the left. Without making a spectacle of it, he slides his open notebook across the desk until it rests between them. The paper is covered in his neat, compact handwriting. A full page documenting everything Dr. Roy covered in the twenty minutes she missed.
Riya looks down at the page, relief washing over her tight shoulders. She tilts her head toward him just an inch.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely louder than the rustle of paper. “Seriously, Neel.”
Neel keeps his posture rigid, staring straight ahead as if paying strict attention to the board, though his lips barely move as he speaks.
“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs back. “Sir is extra ruthless today. Don’t take it to heart.” He hesitates, before saying, “Honestly, though... I can’t believe you just did that. You completely threw it back at him. I would’ve dissolved on the spot.”
A tiny, involuntary giggle slips past Riya’s lips before she can catch it. pulling the notebook a little closer to start copying.
At the front of the room, Dr. Roy stands facing the blackboard, the piece of chalk held poised against the slate. He hasn't turned around once.
“Ms. Sengupta.”
His voice cuts through the ambient sound of the rain with cold, surgical precision. The students back straight up. Riya freezes. Her pen stops writing.
Arindam continues writing while saying, “I granted you permission to sit in this room to learn, not to host a socialite. If my lecture is too dull to command your attention, or if you feel you have already mastered Jibanananda, the door remains exactly where you left it.”
The brief warmth of Neel’s compliment vanishes in a single heartbeat, replaced by a scalding flush that rushes up Riya’s neck and spreads across her cheeks. Every pair of eyes in the room pivots toward her.
Her breath catches in her throat. She wants to speak up but the words choke before they can reach her lips. A sudden, heavy wave of helplessness sinks into her chest. No matter how sharp her answer was, no matter how hard she fought through, he will always find a way to reduce her to a nuisance.
The humiliation burns through her, hot and prickly against the icy chill of her clothes.
Riya forces her spine straight, refusing to let her head drop. Her fingers grip her pen so tightly her knuckles turn pale.
Arindam chooses that moment to turn, leaning his forearm casually against the edge of the podium. His sharp gaze lingers on Riya for a brief, heavy second taking in her bowed head, the fierce, white-knuckle grip she has on her pen before sweeping across the rest of the silent room.
For the next forty minutes, he continue to teach. His voice carrying through the room with a calm, demanding cadence. When the bell finally rings, a collective exhale ripples through the rows. Zippers click and bag straps tighten in a quiet rush; the constant demanding attention he requires leaves the students desperate for air.
Arindam neatly stacks his reference books and caps his fountain pen. Riya is already on her feet, eager to vanish into the crowd clogging the doorway, when his voice halts her in her tracks.
“Ms. Sengupta.” He doesn't even look up as he gestures toward a formidable pile of assignment notebooks sitting on the side table. “Help me with these. And since you haven't submitted yours yet, bring that along as well to my office."
Without waiting for a reply, he gathers his briefcase and steps out into the corridor.
Riya’s jaw tightens until her teeth ache. Her annoyance hits a absolute boiling point as she stares at the mountain of paper now waiting for her.
Before she can let out the frustrated breath building in her chest, a pair of arms wraps around her shoulders from behind, squeezing her in a sudden, energetic hug.
“Well, well, well... what an absolute showdown you had with the professor, babe!” The familiar voice instantly cuts through the gloom. Riya relaxes completely in her arms. It’s Lily.
They’ve been practically attached at the hip since their very first day of kindergarten, when a shared box of crayons sparked a friendship that survived every high school drama, exam meltdown. Even now, drenched and furious, Riya feels the heavy tension in her shoulders has loosen at her best friend's arrival.
Lily leans her hip against the edge of the desk, turning to face her best friend. “I swear he has a personal vendetta against you,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, damn! Everyone was late today. it’s practically underwater outside. Two guys walked in ten minutes before you, and he didn't even bat an eye. But with you? Boy... for a second, I thought you were about to blow up right there in front of the whole class.”
Riya lets out a heavy sigh, readjusting her backpack before hoisting the massive, damp stack of assignment notebooks into her arms. The sudden weight almost throws her off balance, making her stagger a step backward.
Lily snorts at her friend’s sudden struggle, but quickly steps in to pull half the heavy load from the top. "Here. Let me help."
Finally able to see over the remaining notebooks, Riya grumbles, “Thanks.”
“I seriously don't get his problem,” Riya mutters as they set off down the corridor. “I don't know what bug crawled up his... you-know-where so early in the morning, but why is it always me? Sometimes I just want to bonk his head against a brick wall split it open just to see which part of his brain is hardwired to hate me.”
Lily winces, shooting a quick, frantic glance around the hallway. “Whoa, girl! Keep it down! If anyone hears you say that, I don't know about me, but your degree is officially doomed.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Riya says dryly, her tone flat with resignation.
They take the stairs up to the faculty floor. Third door on the right is Dr. Arindam Roy’s office. Managing to free an elbow, Riya knocks awkwardly against the dark wood. A cool, measured voice echoes from inside. “It's open.”
Before Riya can even brace herself, Lily promptly dumps her entire half of the notebooks right back onto Riya’s arms. Riya staggers under the sudden, doubled weight, her knees buckling slightly before Lily catches her by the back of her jacket to steady her.
“What the hell!” Riya’s muffled protest comes from behind the towering stack of paper now completely blocking her face. “Give me a warning first! Aren't you coming in with me?”
Lily snickers quietly, taking a swift step back into the hallway. “Nope. He’s all yours to deal with. I have zero desire to get caught in whatever sizzle you two have going on.”
“There is nothing sizzling at all!” Riya snaps, her voice still swallowed by the pile.
“Sure, babe,” Lily whispers playfully. She leans around the edge of the paper mountain to press a quick kiss onto Riya’s cheek. “I’ll be waiting in the cafeteria. Try not to kill each other.”
Left alone in front of the door, Riya fills her lungs with a deep, steadying breath, tightens her slipping grip on the heavy notebooks, and uses her shoulder to nudge the door open.
