03-03-2026, 04:48 PM
The morning at the Technische Universität was a chaotic symphony of rattling trams and students clutching thermal mugs of coffee. The "Flight Group" had converged at the main entrance, shivering in the sharp morning air as they waited for their first lecture on Advanced Thermodynamics.
Vicky was already there, leaning against a stone pillar. He looked infuriatingly awake—his dark hair damp from a morning shower, his 6-foot athletic frame dbangd in a clean black hoodie. He was scrolling through his phone, looking every bit the composed, former-corporate professional.
Then Shreya arrived, trailing slightly behind Arjun and Aditi.
She was bundled in her denim jacket, her dusky skin looking soft and slightly flushed from the walk. Her eyes were a little wider than usual, her mind replaying the friction of Vicky’s lips against hers every time she blinked.
"Morning, guys!" Arjun boomed, slapping Vicky on the shoulder.
"Man, that beer garden last night... my head feels like a pressure cooker."
Vicky looked up, his gaze sweeping over the group before settling—just for a fraction of a second too long—on Shreya.
"Maybe don't drink like a tourist then, Arjun," Vicky said, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He turned his attention to Shreya.
"Sleep okay, Shreya? You look like you’re still in Hyderabad time."
It was a masterclass in deflection. To the rest of the group, they were just two people from the same flight who happened to be in the same department.
In the lecture hall, Vicky took a seat in the back row, stretching his long legs out. Shreya sat three rows ahead with Aditi. They didn't sit together. They didn't even look at each other while the professor droned on about enthalpy.
During the break, when Shreya struggled to open a heavy fire door, Vicky walked past. He didn't open it for her with a flourish. He just nudged it with his shoulder, saying, "You need to hit the gym, Shreya, or these German doors will win every time."
Shreya rolled her eyes, playing the part perfectly.
"Not everyone is a six-foot giant, Vicky. Some of us are built for comfort, not for lifting doors."
The group laughed. Arjun made a joke about Vicky’s "Keralite ego," and the moment passed. No one noticed the way Shreya’s hand lingered on the spot where Vicky’s sleeve had brushed her arm. No one saw the way Vicky’s jaw tightened when he looked at the curve of her waist as she walked away.
Underneath the "normal" chatter, a silent conversation was happening via WhatsApp.
Vicky [11:14 AM]: That denim jacket is too big for you. But I like how your neck looks when you tie your hair up.
Shreya [11:15 AM]: Focus on the lecture, Mr. Professional. I thought you were the one with the 'work experience.'
Vicky [11:16 AM]: I’m multitasking. Meet me at the library cafe at 4? Alone.
Shreya [11:17 AM]: Aditi wants to go for groceries.
Vicky [11:18 AM]: Tell her you have a meeting with a tutor. Technically, it’s not a lie. I have a lot to teach you.
At lunch, the group sat at the Mensa (cafeteria). Shreya was laughing at something Arjun said, her hand resting on the table. Vicky reached for the salt shaker, and for a fleeting second, his pinky finger hooked around hers.
It was a bold move in broad daylight. Shreya’s breath caught, her laugh dying in her throat. She looked at him, her dark eyes wide with a mix of fear and thrill. Vicky didn't even blink; he just seasoned his pasta and joined the conversation about the upcoming weekend trip to Neuschwanstein Castle.
He was a natural at this. Shreya, however, felt like her skin was on fire.
Vicky was already there, leaning against a stone pillar. He looked infuriatingly awake—his dark hair damp from a morning shower, his 6-foot athletic frame dbangd in a clean black hoodie. He was scrolling through his phone, looking every bit the composed, former-corporate professional.
Then Shreya arrived, trailing slightly behind Arjun and Aditi.
She was bundled in her denim jacket, her dusky skin looking soft and slightly flushed from the walk. Her eyes were a little wider than usual, her mind replaying the friction of Vicky’s lips against hers every time she blinked.
"Morning, guys!" Arjun boomed, slapping Vicky on the shoulder.
"Man, that beer garden last night... my head feels like a pressure cooker."
Vicky looked up, his gaze sweeping over the group before settling—just for a fraction of a second too long—on Shreya.
"Maybe don't drink like a tourist then, Arjun," Vicky said, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He turned his attention to Shreya.
"Sleep okay, Shreya? You look like you’re still in Hyderabad time."
It was a masterclass in deflection. To the rest of the group, they were just two people from the same flight who happened to be in the same department.
In the lecture hall, Vicky took a seat in the back row, stretching his long legs out. Shreya sat three rows ahead with Aditi. They didn't sit together. They didn't even look at each other while the professor droned on about enthalpy.
During the break, when Shreya struggled to open a heavy fire door, Vicky walked past. He didn't open it for her with a flourish. He just nudged it with his shoulder, saying, "You need to hit the gym, Shreya, or these German doors will win every time."
Shreya rolled her eyes, playing the part perfectly.
"Not everyone is a six-foot giant, Vicky. Some of us are built for comfort, not for lifting doors."
The group laughed. Arjun made a joke about Vicky’s "Keralite ego," and the moment passed. No one noticed the way Shreya’s hand lingered on the spot where Vicky’s sleeve had brushed her arm. No one saw the way Vicky’s jaw tightened when he looked at the curve of her waist as she walked away.
Underneath the "normal" chatter, a silent conversation was happening via WhatsApp.
Vicky [11:14 AM]: That denim jacket is too big for you. But I like how your neck looks when you tie your hair up.
Shreya [11:15 AM]: Focus on the lecture, Mr. Professional. I thought you were the one with the 'work experience.'
Vicky [11:16 AM]: I’m multitasking. Meet me at the library cafe at 4? Alone.
Shreya [11:17 AM]: Aditi wants to go for groceries.
Vicky [11:18 AM]: Tell her you have a meeting with a tutor. Technically, it’s not a lie. I have a lot to teach you.
At lunch, the group sat at the Mensa (cafeteria). Shreya was laughing at something Arjun said, her hand resting on the table. Vicky reached for the salt shaker, and for a fleeting second, his pinky finger hooked around hers.
It was a bold move in broad daylight. Shreya’s breath caught, her laugh dying in her throat. She looked at him, her dark eyes wide with a mix of fear and thrill. Vicky didn't even blink; he just seasoned his pasta and joined the conversation about the upcoming weekend trip to Neuschwanstein Castle.
He was a natural at this. Shreya, however, felt like her skin was on fire.
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