(Aarohi Sharma POV)

....

When the final period bell rang, echoing down the high school hallways, my chemistry teacher closed his textbook with a heavy, satisfying thud.

"Alright, everyone," he announced, scanning the room. "We'll pick up this reaction theory tomorrow."

A collective murmur of agreement rippled through the classroom as chairs scraped against the floor. Everyone scrambled to pack their backpacks. I slid my notebooks into my bag, zipping it tight and slinging it over my shoulder.

Ishika and I walked out of the school building together into the crisp afternoon air. Her dad's car was already waiting by the curb. She gave me a bright wave, shouting a quick goodbye before running off. I offered her a soft smile and waved back, watching her pull away into the city traffic.

I looked around the busy drop-off lane, but Siddharth’s midnight-black Rolls-Royce was nowhere in sight. Since I had a while to wait, I navigated past the lingering crowds of students and headed toward the school playground.

The grounds were completely deserted, wrapped in a serene, peaceful silence. The low-hanging afternoon sun bathed the empty swings and golden grass in a breathtaking, warm orange hue. I walked over to a swing set, sitting down on the rubber seat and gently kicking my feet against the wood chips to start a lazy, rhythmic sway.

I took a deep breath, letting the quiet wash over me.

"What an utterly ridiculous day," I muttered to myself, tilting my head back against the chains. "My childhood crush is officially my high school math teacher."

I buried my face in my hands, letting out a muffled, dramatic groan. "Ahhhhh... why did life have to pull a twist like this?"

I pouted, staring down at my uniform shoes. My fingers pulled at the stray ends of my hair in frustration. What was I supposed to do now? What if Ayaan actually did recognize me later? How on earth was I going to survive sitting through an entire period of advanced calculus every single day, staring at him while pretending he was just a stranger?

Suddenly, a warm, solid hand tapped gently against my shoulder.

I snapped my head up. Standing beside the swing was Siddharth, holding his jacket over one arm with a soft, amused expression on his face.

"What's got you looking so tragic, kiddo?" he asked gently.

The emotional exhaustion of the day caught up to me all at once. I made the most pathetic sad face I could manage, throwing my arms around his waist. "Big brother..."

Siddharth chuckled softly, rubbing my back in soothing, rhythmic circles. "What happened, Aarohi? Why the dark mood? Did one of your teachers give you a hard time?"

I shook my head against his chest.

He let out a quiet sigh, gently cupping my cheeks and tilting my face up so I had to look at him. "Then talk to me. What ruined your day?"

"My day was just... horrible," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips as he unslung my heavy school bag from my shoulder, carrying it for me. "So, Miss Naughty had a rough afternoon, huh?"

I gave a solemn nod, which only made him laugh out loud.

"Alright, fair enough. Let's get you home," Siddharth said, messing up my hair affectionately. "I'll make your favorite comfort food tonight to make up for it."

My eyes instantly lit up. "Wait, really? You're making cheese pasta?"

He nodded, a warm spark in his dark eyes. "Yep. Full chef mode."

A genuine smile broke through my gloomy mood. I jumped off the swing and wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you, big brother!"

"You're welcome," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Now move it, or I might change my mind and make broccoli soup instead."

"No way!" I gasped, racing him toward the car.

A few minutes later, we pulled into our driveway. The moment the car stopped, I grabbed my bag and bolted up the front steps, desperate to wash off the dirt and stress of the day.

"Careful on the stairs, kiddo! Don't trip!" Siddharth called out behind me.

I paused at the top of the staircase, looking over the banister with a cheeky grin. "I never trip when my big brother is watching out for me!"

He shook his head, a fond smile breaking across his face. "Just go change."

I headed straight to my bedroom, throwing my backpack onto the desk chair before pulling a pair of comfortable lounge pants and an oversized sweater from my closet. I headed into the bathroom for a long, steaming hot shower, letting the warm water melt away the lingering tension in my shoulders.

Once changed, I padded barefoot down the stairs toward the kitchen, guided by the heavenly scent of melting cheese and garlic.

As I approached the doorway, the low hum of Siddharth's voice drifted into the hallway. He was standing by the kitchen island, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he stirred a pot on the stove.

"Yeah, she's doing great," Siddharth was saying into the receiver, his voice relaxed. "Honestly, she's getting ready for university next year, but her mischievous streak hasn't faded one bit. If anything, she’s even more dramatic."

I paused in the doorway, making a dramatic, offended face. Liar, I thought, narrowing my eyes.

Siddharth caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye and pointed toward the dining table, gesturing for me to sit down. I rolled my eyes playfully, pulling out a chair and resting my chin on my hands, waiting for my plate.

"Yeah, I just picked her up from school," Siddharth continued on the phone, setting the dish towel down. "I'm actually making her favorite dinner right now." He paused, listening to the person on the other end, a warm chuckle escaping his lips. "Yeah, you're right. I'll definitely clear my schedule soon so we can catch up."

He plated the pasta, sliding the steaming dish in front of me with a smile. "Alright, man. Talk to you later. Bye, Ayaan."

The name hit the room like a physical blow.

My hand jerked violently, and my fork slipped from my fingers, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor.

Siddharth set his phone down on the table, raising an eyebrow at me in surprise. "Whoa, what was that? Is the pasta that intimidating?"

"No! I—it just slipped," I stammered, my voice octave higher than normal. I quickly leaned down, snatched the fork off the floor, and set it on the napkin, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged bird. I shoved a massive bite of cheese pasta into my mouth just to keep from having to speak.

Siddharth leaned against the counter, studying my rigid posture with genuine amusement. "Is everything okay with you today, kiddo? You're acting jumpy."

I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes locked firmly on my plate, and shook my head.

"So..." I started, forcing my tone to sound casually curious, my voice barely audible. "Was that... Sunshine on the phone?"

Sunshine.

It was the secret, foolish nickname I had given Ayaan Malhotra the very first day he walked into our house years ago. To my teenage eyes, he had seemed so radiant, so bright, like a warm ray of sunlight cutting through the world.

Siddharth’s expression softened, a fond nod confirming my fear. "Yeah. It was."

"What did he say?" I asked, keeping my head down.

Siddharth let out a long, heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. A teasing smirk played on his lips. "He asked if his little 'Buttercup' was still a giant crybaby."

I snapped my head up, glaring at my brother with genuine irritation.

Siddharth burst out laughing, reaching over to aggressively ruffle my hair. "Relax, kiddo! I'm joking. He just wanted to know how you were settling in, if you were doing well at the new school. And he asked when I was coming over to his place for a drink."

"Oh," I mumbled, staring back down at my pasta. "And what did you say?"

"I told him I’d drop by as soon as work clears up," Siddharth replied, leaning his elbows on the table. He studied my face for a moment before casually adding, "Do you want to come with me when I go see your 'Sunshine'?"

My entire body went completely rigid. I looked at the bowl of pasta, shaking my head without a second thought. "No."

Siddharth blinked, genuine shock crossing his features. "Wait, really? You don't want to see Ayaan?"

I shook my head again, firmer this time. "No."

"What happened to you?" Siddharth asked, utterly baffled. "When you were younger, you used to throw a complete tantrum every time he came over because you wanted his attention. You practically begged to visit his house."

I twirled the pasta around my fork, forcing my voice to stay cold, mature, and completely detached. "I was a kid back then. I’m older now. I don't care about seeing him anymore."

Siddharth stared at me for a long beat, taking a slow breath before shrugging and taking a bite of his own food. "Alright, suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me later, complaining that I didn't invite you."

I kept my eyes glued to my plate, swallowing the lump of grief forming in my throat.

How could I possibly explain the truth to Siddharth? How could I tell him that I couldn't visit Ayaan because he was no longer just his childhood best friend? He was my math professor.

I was going to see him every single day. Every morning. But I wouldn't be his little "Buttercup" anymore. I was just Miss Sharma—another face in the crowd, another student whose name he barely cared to remember.

And honestly? That was for the best.

I took a slow, deep breath, letting the silent heartbreak settle deep inside my chest. I didn't want to cling to old memories anymore. I didn't want to live in a past that only brought me silent, one-sided pain.

I looked up at Siddharth, who was smiling as he ate his dinner, completely unaware of the storm raging inside my mind. I forced a quiet, genuine smile onto my face, taking another bite of the food he had lovingly made for me.

If Ayaan Malhotra wanted to pretend we were strangers, I would play the part perfectly.