09-04-2025, 04:02 AM
Episode 8: Close, but Distant
The midweek lull settled over St. Mark’s. The leftover energy from the cultural program had faded, and the college slowly shifted back into routine. Teachers were back in formal tones, students back in half-hearted notebooks and daydreams.
Except Arjun.
He hadn’t come back to routine at all.
Ever since Sunday—ever since that saree, that glimpse of skin through fabric, that image that refused to leave his head—he’d been off balance. Distracted, distant, but with a strange sort of focus. A focus only she could pull out of him.
Meera Ma’am had resumed her usual look. Cotton saree. Hair tied back. Poised, professional. But now, Arjun looked at her like he had secret access. Like he’d seen something no one else in the room had.
---
After Class
As the bell rang, the classroom emptied out in a rush of chatter and shuffling feet. Arjun stayed back, slower to pack up. Meera was gathering her books, sliding a stack of worksheets into her file.
“Ma’am?” he said, voice low.
She looked up. “Yes?”
“I had a question about yesterday’s problem set. The geometry one. I didn’t get why the diagonals are equal.”
She nodded, gesturing for him to come closer to the board. “Alright. Let’s go over it quickly.”
Arjun stepped forward. She picked up a piece of chalk and started drawing. Her sleeve shifted slightly as she wrote, revealing a glimpse of her wrist, and he noticed—again—how graceful even the smallest parts of her were.
“This part here,” she said, circling a triangle, “relies on the property of congruent triangles. That’s why the diagonals end up equal. See?”
Arjun didn’t respond right away.
She turned slightly, eyebrow raised. “Arjun?”
He blinked. “Yeah. I see it now.” His voice cracked just a bit.
Meera gave a small smile and handed him the chalk. “Try marking the other angle.”
He reached out, their fingers brushing lightly as he took it from her. The touch was nothing—but to him, it echoed.
He drew the line, hand a little shaky.
“That’s right,” she said, and her voice softened. “You’ve been quieter in class lately. Still paying attention, but... somewhere else at the same time.”
He froze for a second. Did she know?
“I guess I’ve just been... thinking a lot,” he offered.
She nodded. “Well, thinking is good. As long as you don’t lose your way in it.”
She turned back to her desk, and the moment passed.
But for Arjun, the way she said it—casual, but with a trace of something else—felt like she had looked into him without even meaning to.
---
Later That Evening – Meera’s Flat
Meera sat on her balcony with a half-read book resting on her lap. The sunset spilled across the tiled floor, and the street below murmured with honking scooters and distant chai stalls.
Her thoughts drifted back to college. To the classroom. To Arjun’s voice.
He was always polite. But there was a stillness to him lately that she couldn’t quite place. A weight behind his eyes. She didn’t think too much of it—but she noticed it.
Maybe it was just final-year stress. Maybe he was finding his footing.
Still... she thought about the way his fingers trembled slightly when he held the chalk.
---
Back in Arjun’s Room
Arjun stared at the blank page in his notebook. Geometry homework untouched.
All he could think about was the closeness. Her scent. The warm tone in her voice when she said you’ve been quieter. The brief touch of her fingers against his.
It wasn’t a fantasy anymore.
It was a slow, silent storm building inside him.
And he didn’t know what he’d do when it finally broke.
---
Perfect. Here's Episode 9, where an unexpected power outage creates a quiet, private moment between Meera and Arjun—subtle, charged, and intimate in atmosphere, without stepping over the line. The tension builds through what's left unsaid.
---
Episode 9: When the Lights Went Out
It was Thursday afternoon, and City's heat clung to the walls of St. Mark’s like a second skin. The fans did little more than stir the humidity, and the students were restless, counting down minutes to the final bell.
Fifth period. Maths class.
Meera stood near the window, halfway through a problem on the board, chalk in hand, when the entire building shuddered into silence.
The fans stopped.
The lights blinked, then went dark.
And just like that, the college was dead quiet.
For a moment, no one moved. Then the murmurs started.
“Power cut?”
“Why now?”
“Do we still have class?”
Meera turned to the class. “Quiet,” she said gently
“There’s still daylight. Take out your textbooks, page 82. We’ll manage.”
The room stayed dim but tolerable—shadows dancing across desks from the open windows.
---
Fifteen Minutes Later
Most students had checked out mentally. A few leaned into their books half-heartedly. The usual class rhythm was broken, and the heat was rising.
Meera paused her explanation and sighed. “Alright. Since no one’s really listening—” she smiled—“you can take the last ten minutes as silent reading time. Quiet, please.”
She moved toward her desk and sat, pulling out a water bottle. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, and she dabbed it gently with the edge of her pallu.
Arjun, who had barely looked away from her the entire class, sat still—more alert now than ever.
The power cut had changed everything.
No fan hum. No fluorescent glare.
Just her voice. Her breath. Her presence in softer light.
She was seated sideways in her chair, saree pleats spilling over her legs, the curve of her waist visible in the half-shade. Her profile was calm, but the heat had undone her just slightly—loosened her hair at the nape, made her blouse cling a little closer to her skin.
And Arjun, sitting three rows away, felt like he was witnessing something private. Something real.
---
After the Bell
The final bell rang, quieter than usual without electricity. Students shuffled out, grateful to escape the heat.
Arjun moved slower, deliberately. He hung back near the window, pretending to gather his things.
“Still here?” Meera asked, wiping the board lazily with a tissue.
“Yeah... just didn’t want to rush into the crowd,” he said, watching the last few leave.
She nodded, uncapping her water bottle again. “It gets suffocating when the power’s out. Like the whole building holds its breath.”
Arjun hesitated, then said, “You still looked... calm.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You mean I didn’t faint from the heat?”
He smirked. “I meant... you just look calm. All the time.”
That gave her pause. She leaned against the desk, her expression softening. “I’ve had practice.”
The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was filled with something else. Mutual awareness, though only one of them truly understood it.
“Well, get going,” she said, finally standing and adjusting the pleats at her waist. “Unless you want to be stuck here when the generator kicks in and locks the doors.”
Arjun nodded slowly, walking to the door. But just before leaving, he looked back once.
She wasn’t looking at him.
But the memory of her, lit by half-light, skin glowing, hair undone, stayed with him long after he stepped into the sun.
---
That Night
He lay on his bed in the dark, the fan now working again at home, whirring above him.
But all he could hear was her voice in that silent room. All he could see was the way she sat in that chair, shifting just once, and how his eyes followed every quiet movement.
He knew nothing had changed.
But inside him—
everything had.
To be continued…
The midweek lull settled over St. Mark’s. The leftover energy from the cultural program had faded, and the college slowly shifted back into routine. Teachers were back in formal tones, students back in half-hearted notebooks and daydreams.
Except Arjun.
He hadn’t come back to routine at all.
Ever since Sunday—ever since that saree, that glimpse of skin through fabric, that image that refused to leave his head—he’d been off balance. Distracted, distant, but with a strange sort of focus. A focus only she could pull out of him.
Meera Ma’am had resumed her usual look. Cotton saree. Hair tied back. Poised, professional. But now, Arjun looked at her like he had secret access. Like he’d seen something no one else in the room had.
---
After Class
As the bell rang, the classroom emptied out in a rush of chatter and shuffling feet. Arjun stayed back, slower to pack up. Meera was gathering her books, sliding a stack of worksheets into her file.
“Ma’am?” he said, voice low.
She looked up. “Yes?”
“I had a question about yesterday’s problem set. The geometry one. I didn’t get why the diagonals are equal.”
She nodded, gesturing for him to come closer to the board. “Alright. Let’s go over it quickly.”
Arjun stepped forward. She picked up a piece of chalk and started drawing. Her sleeve shifted slightly as she wrote, revealing a glimpse of her wrist, and he noticed—again—how graceful even the smallest parts of her were.
“This part here,” she said, circling a triangle, “relies on the property of congruent triangles. That’s why the diagonals end up equal. See?”
Arjun didn’t respond right away.
She turned slightly, eyebrow raised. “Arjun?”
He blinked. “Yeah. I see it now.” His voice cracked just a bit.
Meera gave a small smile and handed him the chalk. “Try marking the other angle.”
He reached out, their fingers brushing lightly as he took it from her. The touch was nothing—but to him, it echoed.
He drew the line, hand a little shaky.
“That’s right,” she said, and her voice softened. “You’ve been quieter in class lately. Still paying attention, but... somewhere else at the same time.”
He froze for a second. Did she know?
“I guess I’ve just been... thinking a lot,” he offered.
She nodded. “Well, thinking is good. As long as you don’t lose your way in it.”
She turned back to her desk, and the moment passed.
But for Arjun, the way she said it—casual, but with a trace of something else—felt like she had looked into him without even meaning to.
---
Later That Evening – Meera’s Flat
Meera sat on her balcony with a half-read book resting on her lap. The sunset spilled across the tiled floor, and the street below murmured with honking scooters and distant chai stalls.
Her thoughts drifted back to college. To the classroom. To Arjun’s voice.
He was always polite. But there was a stillness to him lately that she couldn’t quite place. A weight behind his eyes. She didn’t think too much of it—but she noticed it.
Maybe it was just final-year stress. Maybe he was finding his footing.
Still... she thought about the way his fingers trembled slightly when he held the chalk.
---
Back in Arjun’s Room
Arjun stared at the blank page in his notebook. Geometry homework untouched.
All he could think about was the closeness. Her scent. The warm tone in her voice when she said you’ve been quieter. The brief touch of her fingers against his.
It wasn’t a fantasy anymore.
It was a slow, silent storm building inside him.
And he didn’t know what he’d do when it finally broke.
---
Perfect. Here's Episode 9, where an unexpected power outage creates a quiet, private moment between Meera and Arjun—subtle, charged, and intimate in atmosphere, without stepping over the line. The tension builds through what's left unsaid.
---
Episode 9: When the Lights Went Out
It was Thursday afternoon, and City's heat clung to the walls of St. Mark’s like a second skin. The fans did little more than stir the humidity, and the students were restless, counting down minutes to the final bell.
Fifth period. Maths class.
Meera stood near the window, halfway through a problem on the board, chalk in hand, when the entire building shuddered into silence.
The fans stopped.
The lights blinked, then went dark.
And just like that, the college was dead quiet.
For a moment, no one moved. Then the murmurs started.
“Power cut?”
“Why now?”
“Do we still have class?”
Meera turned to the class. “Quiet,” she said gently
“There’s still daylight. Take out your textbooks, page 82. We’ll manage.”
The room stayed dim but tolerable—shadows dancing across desks from the open windows.
---
Fifteen Minutes Later
Most students had checked out mentally. A few leaned into their books half-heartedly. The usual class rhythm was broken, and the heat was rising.
Meera paused her explanation and sighed. “Alright. Since no one’s really listening—” she smiled—“you can take the last ten minutes as silent reading time. Quiet, please.”
She moved toward her desk and sat, pulling out a water bottle. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, and she dabbed it gently with the edge of her pallu.
Arjun, who had barely looked away from her the entire class, sat still—more alert now than ever.
The power cut had changed everything.
No fan hum. No fluorescent glare.
Just her voice. Her breath. Her presence in softer light.
She was seated sideways in her chair, saree pleats spilling over her legs, the curve of her waist visible in the half-shade. Her profile was calm, but the heat had undone her just slightly—loosened her hair at the nape, made her blouse cling a little closer to her skin.
And Arjun, sitting three rows away, felt like he was witnessing something private. Something real.
---
After the Bell
The final bell rang, quieter than usual without electricity. Students shuffled out, grateful to escape the heat.
Arjun moved slower, deliberately. He hung back near the window, pretending to gather his things.
“Still here?” Meera asked, wiping the board lazily with a tissue.
“Yeah... just didn’t want to rush into the crowd,” he said, watching the last few leave.
She nodded, uncapping her water bottle again. “It gets suffocating when the power’s out. Like the whole building holds its breath.”
Arjun hesitated, then said, “You still looked... calm.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You mean I didn’t faint from the heat?”
He smirked. “I meant... you just look calm. All the time.”
That gave her pause. She leaned against the desk, her expression softening. “I’ve had practice.”
The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was filled with something else. Mutual awareness, though only one of them truly understood it.
“Well, get going,” she said, finally standing and adjusting the pleats at her waist. “Unless you want to be stuck here when the generator kicks in and locks the doors.”
Arjun nodded slowly, walking to the door. But just before leaving, he looked back once.
She wasn’t looking at him.
But the memory of her, lit by half-light, skin glowing, hair undone, stayed with him long after he stepped into the sun.
---
That Night
He lay on his bed in the dark, the fan now working again at home, whirring above him.
But all he could hear was her voice in that silent room. All he could see was the way she sat in that chair, shifting just once, and how his eyes followed every quiet movement.
He knew nothing had changed.
But inside him—
everything had.
To be continued…
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)