The first thing Zoya noticed when she stepped onto campus was the weather — breezy, overcast, just like the day he left.

The second thing she noticed?

Akif Malik.

Standing by the parking lot, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, black hoodie half-zipped, and hair slightly messy like he'd rushed over straight from the airport.

Her heart did a whole dramatic backflip.

But she didn’t let it show.

She walked right past him.

“Yo, Miss Bokaro,” he called casually.

She turned with the slowest, most neutral face in history. “Oh. You're back?”

His brow lifted. “Just ‘oh’?”

She shrugged. “I mean… wasn’t like you were gone for a year.”

“Oh really?” he smirked. “Because someone kept checking her phone every five seconds.”

Zoya's eyes narrowed. “I was waiting for a parcel. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ayaan walked up behind Akif and laughed. “She didn’t even eat properly, bro.”

“Ayaan!” Zoya snapped.

Ayaan winked and ran off like the traitor he was.

Akif grinned, stepping closer, that familiar scent of rain and peppermint clinging to him. “Well, for the record… I missed you.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Again, not my problem.”

But her fingers were playing with the corner of her dupatta. He noticed.

“I brought you something,” he said suddenly, pulling a tiny paper bag from his backpack.

She blinked.

“What is it?”

“Try guessing.”

She crossed her arms. “Sweets?”

“Nope.”

“Keychain?”

“Nope.”

“Then what—”

He handed it to her.

Inside was a small jar of homemade achaar — the one she had once mentioned missing from back home.

She stared at it for a moment, silent.

He scratched the back of his neck. “My nani made it. Thought you might like—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Zoya looked away quickly, hugging the jar to her chest. “Whatever. Thanks, I guess.”

But he saw the smile fighting its way to her lips.

---

That afternoon, they sat in the canteen again — the same corner table, the same coffee, the same stolen glances.

Everything felt like it had returned to normal… except Zoya’s heartbeat, which was currently running a marathon.

She avoided eye contact, fidgeted with her straw, and threw sarcastic comments every time Akif so much as smiled at her.

But inside?

She was melting.

---

Aarfa slid into the chair beside her, whispering, “Girl, your act is so fake. You literally stared at him for five whole minutes while he tied his shoelace.”

Zoya whispered back, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Akif caught them whispering and raised an eyebrow.

Zoya shot him her best what are you looking at glare.

He smiled.

She looked away.

Her heart did that flip again.

---

That night, as she lay in bed, scrolling through random reels and pretending not to wait for a message — her phone lit up.

> Akif: “Still pretending you didn’t miss me?”

She typed…

Then deleted.

Then typed again.

> Zoya: “What do you think?”

The reply came instantly.

> Akif: “I think… you did. Even if you’ll never say it out loud.”

Her smile stretched without

permission.

And that night, for the first time in days, she fell asleep hugging the stupid achaar jar he brought her.

---

That achar one was an unexpected! Like I was writing and it came to my mind so I added that also keke.