★Soha★

I was waiting for him near his car, fingers twisted tightly around each other. The place  suddenly felt too narrow, too silent. Every passing second made my heartbeat louder, harsher, until I was sure even the students walking by could hear it.

Then he appeared.

Avnish sir walked toward me with a stiff expression, one hand holding his phone. The moment his eyes met mine, my stomach dropped.

My legs nearly gave up beneath me.

“What did you just message me?” he asked, stopping right in front of me. His arms folded across his chest, calm but intimidating.

“I— what message?” My voice came out smaller than I intended. God, I was trembling so badly.

Without saying a word, he unlocked his phone and opened our chat. Then he tilted the screen toward me.

“This one,” he said quietly, pointing at the message.

A deep sigh escaped his lips. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just… heavy.

“Soha,” he said softly, “are you forcing yourself to say yes?”

I immediately shook my head.

“No.”

“Look, baccha (child),” his voice lowered, gentle enough to make my chest ache, “don’t think about society, your parents, or what others expect from you. Think about yourself first.”

I nervously wet my lips before speaking. “Sir… after thinking a lot, I made this decision.” My fingers curled tightly around my handkerchief. “I don’t want to rush anything. I just… want to know you better first.” I looked up at him for barely a second before lowering my gaze again. “And I don’t have a problem with the age gap.”

The air between us turned strangely still.

I could feel his eyes on me — curious, unreadable, almost searching for something inside my face. That only made me more conscious of myself.

My motherfucking heart was beating fast.

“Sir?” I whispered when he stayed silent.

“For me, the age gap is a problem.” His tone was calm, but firm. “Seven years seems normal to you?”

Usually girls rejected older men because of the age gap the roles had reversed.

“At least it’s not ten years,” I muttered nervously, trying to lighten the tension.

A small chuckle escaped him despite himself. He looked away for a moment before saying, “I think four or five years is reasonable. Beyond that… people think differently. Their priorities change.”

“Sir, please,” I stepped closer without realizing it, desperation slipping into my voice. “I’m not asking you to marry me tomorrow. I’m only saying we should give this a chance.” My words began tumbling out in panic. “We can know each other first. If you think progressively, then seven years isn’t even that much.”

He kept staring at me silently, which only made me more restless.

“Please, sir,” I whined unconsciously, stamping my foot lightly like an annoyed child. “Just once.”

For a second, his expression actually softened, like he was fighting the urge to smile.

But then his face turned serious again.

“Soha,” he said firmly, “do you think marriage is some kind of joke?”

“No!” I answered immediately. “That’s exactly why I’m saying we should know each other first.”

This time, instead of replying instantly, Avnish simply stared at me.

“I promise I won’t let you feel the age difference.” The sentence slipped out before I could stop it.

And only after saying it did I realize I had unknowingly stepped too close to him.

Very close.

Close enough to notice the tiny crease between his brows. Close enough to see the reflection of the parking lights in his eyes. My breath caught the moment awareness hit me.

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

I immediately stepped back so fast it almost looked suspicious and adjusted my specs unnecessarily.

Avnish noticed.

Of course he noticed.

One corner of his mouth twitched faintly, but he hid it quickly.

“Soha,” he said after a pause, his tone unusually careful, “my eldest niece is seventeen.”

I blinked.

“She’s almost your age.” He stared at me like he genuinely wanted me to understand the absurdity of the situation. “Now tell me honestly… how do you expect me to say yes to this?”

For exactly three seconds, I had no answer.

Then my stubbornness returned.

“I’m twenty two,” I corrected instantly. “And next month I’ll turn twenty three, so technically it’s six and a half years. Not seven.”

The moment the words left my mouth, even I realized how ridiculous I sounded.

Who argues over half years like this?

But instead of replying immediately, Avnish just looked up at the sky for a second as if silently asking God for patience.

“Amazing,” he murmured under his breath.

I crossed my arms defensively.

“And Ayush sir’s wife is eight years younger than him.” Now I was using faculty examples like a lawyer defending a case.

At this point even I knew I had lost shame.

Avnish let out a helpless laugh, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

“You really came prepared for this conversation, huh?" He said.

“I had valid points.” I  defended.

“You had statistics.”

“That too.”

For a moment, silence settled between us — not awkward exactly, but strange. The kind where both people are trying very hard not to smile too much.

Then he suddenly sighed and looked at me seriously again.

“So what exactly do you want, Soha?”

That question made my heartbeat quicken all over again.

Because beneath all my dramatic arguments, the answer was embarrassingly simple.

“I just…” I looked down at my hands. “I want us to know each other properly first.” I glanced at him carefully. “If our vibes match, then later we can decide if this should become something serious or not.”

The excitement in my own voice betrayed me instantly.

God.

I sounded like a teenager proposing friendship after tuition class.

But the funniest part?

Avnish actually looked amused.

“Vibes?” he repeated slowly, like the word physically hurt him.

He shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “You and your generation…”

“I’m not that young.”

“You literally just calculated half-years to defend yourself.”

Okay.

Fair point.

Before I could argue again, his expression suddenly shifted.

“You have sent your pharmacology paper for rechecking, right?”

My smile disappeared so quickly it was almost tragic. My heart dropped.

Behenchod ye kya puch liya (what the motherfucking question he asked?)

Seriously?

THIS topic now?

He leaned casually against his car, arms folded, waiting for my answer like we were back in class.

“What happened?”

I stared dramatically at the ground.

“I still failed,” I admitted quietly. “By four marks.”

“Ouch.”

The sympathy in his voice somehow made it worse.

“It was a difficult paper,” I muttered.

“Hm.”

That one hm carried years of teacher disappointment.

I instantly became defensive. “Everyone struggled!”

“And yet some passed.”

I gasped softly that was personal.

A laugh escaped him again.

God.

I had never seen this side of him properly before. In class he was always disciplined, composed, terrifyingly professional.

But here, leaning against his car in the evening parking lot, laughing at my excuses?

It felt unreal.

Then he straightened slightly and said, almost casually—

“Re-exam forms will come in two weeks. Fill one.”

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Why are you suddenly sounding like my academic advisor?”

“Because,” he replied calmly, “if you score above seventy three in pharmacology… then maybe I’ll think about saying yes.”

For a second my brain completely stopped functioning.

I stared at him.

“You’re joking.” I hissed.

“I’m not.”

“This condition makes zero sense.” I tried to sound normal but this idiotic condition blew my brain.

“Neither is you chasing a man seven years older than you.” He said.

I opened my mouth.

Closed it again.

Damn him.

“That’s manipulation,” I muttered.

“That’s motivation.” He countered.

“And it's six points five years not seven” I huffed.

“That’s pharmacology.”

I wanted to stay annoyed, but the tiny challenge hidden in his eyes triggered my ego immediately.

“Fine,” I blurted out. “I’ll score above seventy five.”

The words echoed confidently.

Then reality slapped me.

Seventy five?

In pharmacology?

Had I lost my mind?

Even the toppers cried over seventy plus.

Inside, panic quietly started packing its bags and moving into my soul permanently.

But outside, I made eye contact bravely.

Avnish looked at me for two seconds before shaking his head in disbelief.

“You really speak first and think later.” He said casually.

“…sometimes.”

His lips curved faintly again.

Then he unlocked his car.

“Come. I’ll drop you home.”

“No, it’s okay,” I refused immediately.

Truthfully, I didn’t mind sitting beside him.

I just knew the entire drive would become a TED Talk about revision schedules and drug classifications.

“I’ll go by walk.”

“I’ll save your time,” he said patiently. “Sit.”

“Sir, I can manage.” I refused somehow again I don't want to face his academic questions.

I had already started walking away when his voice stopped me again.

“Soha.”

I turned.

“Baith jao, beta.”

And that was it.

That one beta.

Soft. Casual. Unintentional.

My stomach instantly filled with nervous butterflies.

Oh God.

Why did that sound so cute coming from him?

I looked away quickly before my smile exposed me completely.

Inside my head, however, I was already dancing like Shinchan screaming buri buri hurray across the entire parking lot.

Meanwhile outside?

I nodded with fake seriousness and quietly sat inside the car like a civilized human being.