(Ayaan Malhotra POV)

.....

The silence of my apartment was heavy, broken only by the steady hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of city traffic below. It had been an exhausting, suffocatingly busy first day.

I tossed my car keys onto the entryway table, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my stark white dress shirt as I headed straight for the master bathroom. I stripped off my suit and stepped into the glass enclosure, twisting the handle all the way to cold.

A sharp, icy spray cascaded over my head, shocking my heated skin. I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, running a hand through my dripping hair.

"High schoolers are entirely too much work," I muttered into the steam-less air, letting out a heavy, tired exhale.

After a long, brutal shower, I wrapped a dark towel around my waist and dried my hair before pulling on a pair of comfortable, dark gray sweatpants. Barefoot and still warm from the water, I padded downstairs into the kitchen, flipping on the overhead lights.

I set a pan on the stove, ignition clicking before a low blue flame flickered to life. As I began chopping garlic and dicing fresh vegetables on the cutting board, a name suddenly echoed through the quiet of my mind.

Aarohi Sharma.

I paused, the knife hovering over the board. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I shook my head, tossing the vegetables into the sizzling oil.

There’s no way, I thought, lowering the flame to a low simmer. That girl by the window couldn't possibly be my Buttercup.

I leaned back against the counter, staring absentmindedly at the steam rising from the pan. It had been years. Buttercup had to be all grown up by now. A quiet, fond warmth bloomed in my chest. She’s probably even cuter than she was as a kid... and undoubtedly twice as trouble.

Plating the quick meal I had whipped together, I carried the food up to my home office. I set the plate on my desk, unplugged my phone from the charger, and dialed a familiar number, pulling up a chair as it rang.

"Hello?" a deep, familiar voice answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Siddharth," I said, taking a bite of my food. "How are you holding up?"

He let out a heavy sigh over the line. "Just missing you, man. It’s been too long."

I chuckled softly, leaning back into the leather chair. "You never change, do you?"

Siddharth laughed, the sound full and grounded. "What can I say? Anyway, what are you up to?"

"Not much. Just grabbing a late dinner," I murmured, wrapping the fork in my hand. I paused, taking a quiet breath before casually asking, "How’s Buttercup doing?"

"She’s doing great," Siddharth replied softly.

"Is she still giving you gray hair?"

He let out another theatrical sigh, and I could practically picture the exact exasperated face he was making—the same face his little sister made whenever she was caught getting into trouble. "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 now."

A soft, genuine laugh escaped my chest. Hearing that she hadn't changed brought a strange wave of comfort. "So... is she back from school yet?" I asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was getting late for her to still be out.

"Yeah, I just picked her up," Siddharth confirmed. "I'm actually making her favorite dinner right now."

I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the night sky, a faint smile touching my lips. Cheesy pasta. I didn't even need to ask; I knew how obsessed she had always been with that dish.

"You need to clear your schedule and come over, Siddharth," I said, swirling the fork in my plate. "Bring Buttercup with you. It’s been years since I last saw her."

"You're right. I'll definitely clear some time soon so we can all catch up," Siddharth agreed smoothly. "Alright, man. Talk to you later. Bye, Ayaan."

"Bye. See you soon."

The line went dead. I set the phone down on the wooden desk, leaning back into my leather chair and closing my eyes.

"How many years has it actually been?" I whispered into the quiet room. Five? Ten? More?

She was grown up now. A young woman on the cusp of university. But to me, she was still the little girl who used to follow me around Siddharth's house, demanding my attention.

My eyes drifted across the dark wood of my desk, landing on a framed photograph resting near the lamp. I reached out, picking up the silver frame and tracing the glass with my thumb.

It was a photo from my university graduation years ago. Siddharth had come to celebrate, bringing a twelve-year-old Aarohi along. She was standing next to me in the picture, wearing a bright smile that could outshine the sun.

"When that girl in class told me her name today..." I murmured to the photograph, a faint chuckle slipping past my lips, "...my heart stopped for a second. For a fleeting moment, I actually thought you were standing right in front of me."

I set the frame back down with a quiet sigh. Siddharth had moved his family to a different corporate district after the accident, effectively putting distance between us. She had probably forgotten all about her "Sunshine" by now.

"I really do need to see my little Buttercup," I muttered, standing up from the desk.

I carried my empty plate down to the kitchen, washed it quickly, and headed back up to my office to face the mountain of paperwork waiting for me. I pulled my thin-framed reading glasses from my pocket, slipping them on as I pulled the heavy stack of student assignment notebooks toward me.

For two straight hours, the only sound in the room was the scratch of my red pen against paper.

Then, I opened a notebook that made my pen freeze mid-air.

I stared at the page in absolute disbelief. Every single calculus equation was completely wrong. The basic formulas were butchered, and even the simplest algebraic steps were an absolute trainwreck.

I pulled off my reading glasses, rubbing the bridge of my nose in sheer frustration. "This student doesn't even grasp fundamental mathematics."

I flipped back to the cover of the notebook to read the name written on the label.

Aarohi Sharma.

My hand went completely still.

"Aarohi Sharma..." I whispered, staring at the cursive writing. "The girl by the window."

I let out a low, disbelieving sigh. She was completely lost in class, her mind clearly wandering, and now her coursework proved she was falling drastically behind.

"I'm going to need to have a serious meeting with her parents," I muttered to myself, setting the red pen down. "At this rate, she isn't even going to pass the midterms, let alone graduate."

I stared at her name on the crisp paper, and suddenly, a vivid memory from earlier this afternoon flashed across my mind.

When I had walked out of the faculty building toward my car after the final bell, I had passed the empty school playground. Sitting alone on a swing, gently swaying in the golden sunset, was Aarohi. I remembered looking at my watch, wondering why a student was still hanging around campus so late, and I had almost turned around to ask if she needed a ride or if her parents were coming.

Before I could step toward her, a tall man in a tailored suit had walked up to the swings, pulling her into a warm hug before leading her toward a sleek luxury car.

That must have been her father or her big brother picking her up, I reasoned, tapping my fingers against the desk.

I dragged her notebook to the side, placing it on top of the pile for mandatory follow-ups. "I definitely need to schedule a parent-teacher conference with her family."

Sighing, I put my glasses back on, picked up my red pen, and opened the next notebook, entirely oblivious to the fact that the "irresponsible student" whose family I was planning to call... was currently eating cheesy pasta at my best friend's dinner table.