The hallway was abuzz as students pretended to be studying or adjusting backpacks, but really, everyone was watching them.

  No one asked questions. No one dared.

  The silence said it all:

  Who the hell is that guy?

  Is this a prank?

  Is this legal?

  Is he a celebrity? Some prince?

  Why does he look so calm?

  And most chilling of all:

  What if this is just the beginning?

  Bharath sat down in the lecture hall, Marisol curled up beside him, her legs folded on the chair like she lived there.

  Ravi and Jorge took their spots behind them.

  Ravi leaned forward and whispered, “The guy in the back row is still staring. He hasn’t blinked in two minutes.”

  Jorge added, “He just dropped his pencil for the third time.”

  Marisol smiled zily and tucked her hand into Bharath’s. “I like this.”

  He turned to her. “You’re not… embarrassed?”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Why would I be? We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  He nodded slowly. “It’s just-”

  “Babe,” she said softly, “the looks don’t bother me. They’ll get used to it. And if they don’t? Let them stare.”

  From the back of the room, a voice muttered, “He must know hypnosis.”

  Jorge choked on his ugh. “Or ancient Kama Sutra scrolls.”

  Ravi whispered, “Or maybe… maybe women just like him.”

  Everyone stared at him. “...Okay, yeah, mind control sounds more realistic.”

  There was a strange energy in the room.

  Ayesha felt it the moment she stepped into the lecture hall. It wasn’t just the usual Monday groans or midterm dread. It was the hush-before-a-storm kind of energy - a low murmur running through the air like static clinging to skin.

  She slid into her usual spot next to Zara, dropping her notebook onto the desk.

  “You feel that?” she muttered.

  Zara looked up from applying her lip gloss. “Feel what?”

  Ayesha gestured vaguely around the room. “Everyone’s whispering.”

  Zara paused, scanning the space. A small cluster of guys in the back were murmuring animatedly, gesturing toward the door. Two girls in the front row were already giggling before css had even started.

  “What’s going on?” Ayesha asked, frowning.

  Before Zara could respond, the door opened again - and in walked Bharath.

  With Marisol.

  Together.

  Like, very together.

  Marisol was holding his arm. Not just resting her hand there, but actually hugging it. Like she was letting the world know it belonged to her.

  They didn’t say a word. Just walked past the rows of seats calmly, like this wasn’t weird. Like the whole lecture hall wasn’t turning its head and watching.

  They took two open seats near the middle, Bharath sliding in first. Marisol stayed close - her hand brushing against his thigh briefly before she reached for her bag. Her hair was tied up, but even from where Ayesha sat, she could see the red mark on Marisol’s neck.

  A love bite?

  Ayesha blinked.

  She’d heard the rumors earlier that morning - something about a dramatic kiss near the CoC building - but she’d rolled her eyes. Georgia Tech was full of lonely nerds who’d turn a smile into a marriage proposal in their heads.

  But this?

  This was real.

  Even Zara noticed. “Okay, what the hell?” she whispered. “Since when is Marisol pying the girlfriend game?”

  Ayesha tried to keep her voice steady. “I thought she was just using him for tutoring. But…”

  She trailed off.

  Because Marisol wasn’t acting like someone leveraging a dork for midterm help. She was glowing. Rexed. Possessive.

  Like she wanted to be seen with Bharath.

  Like she didn’t care who knew.

  Bharath was saying something softly - Ayesha couldn’t hear the words, but it made Marisol ugh and rest her head briefly on his shoulder before swatting him pyfully.

  Ayesha’s stomach tightened. She looked away, trying to focus on her notebook, but she couldn’t stop the memories that came flooding back.

  The airport ride.

  Back in August.

  He’d been so friendly. So genuine. That quiet confidence under the shyness - and that smile. They’d talked the whole way from the airport to campus. It had been easy. Natural. For a brief, stupid moment, she thought maybe-

  Then Zara had seen him. Said he looked like a “Fresh off the boat nerd.” And Ayesha - stupid, shallow Ayesha - had ughed along and slowly pulled away. Told herself it was survival. That popurity had a price.

  But she’d never hated him. Not really. And now…

  Now he was sitting in css next to the hottest girl in their section, like he belonged.

  And somehow, no one was ughing anymore.

  It was hard to focus.

  Even Professor Carmichael - a man who once yelled at a student for sneezing during a quiz - looked like he’d forgotten how time worked. He called roll twice, pronounced Bharath’s name as Borat before giving up and muttering something about “early-onset fog brain.” The chalk screeched across the board as he fumbled a basic derivative. At one point, he stared out the window like he was remembering the girl who got away.

  A few rows up, one student whispered, “I think he’s having an existential crisis.”

  Another replied, “We all are.”

  The room practically vibrated with suppressed questions. Eyes darted toward Bharath and Marisol over and over. A few students just stopped pretending to take notes and openly watched them like they were a live episode of General Hospital.

  A guy across the aisle leaned toward his friend and whispered, “I saw them together near Tech Green this morning. She was holding his hand like she’d kill anyone who tried to take it.”

  Another girl chimed in, “But wasn’t he kissing the other girl? The older one?”

  “Yeah. Like… really kissing her. With commitment.”

  “They say Marisol just stood there and smiled.”

  “Maybe it’s a study group thing?”

  “Yeah, I always kiss my group members. With tongue.”

  A beat.

  “…Respect.”

  Zara leaned toward Ayesha, frowning. “Are we sure he’s not part of some… international exchange program for Casanovas?”

  “Or a secret heir?” someone muttered nearby. “Like a Tamil prince?”

  “Honestly, he’s probably just really good at coding and cuddling,” came another voice.

  A guy near the back spped the table in defeat. “I’ve been going to the gym for six months and all I got was a shin splint and mild depression!”