The next morning, excitement crackled through the air. Students buzzed around the buses in caps, sports shoes, and backpacks—today was the annual hiking trip, a tradition everyone waited for.

Avneet arrived late, sunglasses covering her tired eyes. The whispers started instantly, but she ignored them, sliding into her usual queen-bee strut.

Avneet stood near her group of friends, immaculate in her athleisure set that probably cost more than the entire trip budget. She had planned to skip this nonsense-mud, sweat, and mosquito bites weren’t her thing. But, something pulled her here... the thought of sitting home while the rest of the college made memories? Impossible. Maybe because she knew Siddharth would be here..., a part of her wanted to see if Siddharth would even glance at her after yesterday.

He didn’t.

He boarded the bus quietly, headphones on, slipping into a corner seat. No glance, no smirk, no acknowledgment. And that burned worse than any insult.

Avneet felt the sting of being invisible.

The bus was already vibrating with energy when Avneet stepped in. Students yelled across the aisle, phones blasted Bollywood tracks, packets of chips were being torn open and passed around. Everyone looked like they were heading for a carnival, not a college hiking trip.

Avneet paused at the entrance, her heels clicking against the bus steps, her oversized sunglasses perched on her nose even though they were indoors. The chatter faltered for a second when people noticed her. She enjoyed that pause, the attention it carried.

But her eyes weren’t scanning for admiration today. They were hunting for him.

And there he was. Last row, by the window, dressed in black like he was going to a funeral rather than a mountain. Black shirt, black jeans, black shades, his hair falling just right, his jaw clenched like he was allergic to fun. His arms were crossed, his whole body giving off the vibe that he wanted no one near him.

Which, of course, made Avneet’s decision very easy.

She smirked, adjusted her bag on her shoulder, and made her way down as if she was walking a runway. A couple of boys half-stood, offering her seats, but she ignored them. She walked straight to the back, ignoring the curious eyes following her, and without asking, without hesitating, slid into the seat beside him.

“Hi, baby boy!” she drawled, deliberately low so only he could hear.

Siddharth didn’t even turn. His jaw ticked, but his gaze remained on the window, the glass reflecting his sharp profile.

Avneet stretched, settling into the seat like she owned it. “Wow. Not even a hello? That’s cold, Siddharth. Even for you.”

No response.

“Seriously? I sit beside you, the most beautiful girl in this entire bus, and you’re still pretending I don’t exist?”

He didn’t remove his headphones, didn’t turn his head. Just one eyebrow arched faintly, as if to say: Really?

Avneet huffed. “You know, people would kill for this seat. I’m giving it to you for free, and you don’t even appreciate it.”

Finally, Siddharth tugged out one earbud. His voice was calm, edged with ice. “You talk too much in the morning.”

Her jaw dropped, then she let out a laugh. “And you’re allergic to fun.” She poked his arm lightly. “Don’t worry, Siddharth Nigam. I’ll fix you.”

His jaw flexed, the muscle tightening as though he were swallowing back a sharper retort.

Avneet gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. “Excuse me? That was practically a conversation starter. If you think this is me talking too much, wait till you hear me after I drink.”

He stared at her for one beat too long, then slid the earbud back in.

Avneet grinned. She considered that a win.

“Are you serious right now?” Avneet’s voice cut through the air, low but sharp.

Siddharth arched an eyebrow, expression unreadable. “Excuse me?”

“You’re just going to pretend?” she snapped, “Like I’m invisible?”

“What exactly do you want me to do, Avneet?” he asked, voice steady. “Bow down?”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t twist this, Siddharth. I know what you are doing... Till you are going to ignore me... Like I’m… nothing!!”

He let out a humorless laugh. “If that bothers you, maybe ask yourself why.”

For a moment, she faltered. The words hit harder than she expected. But she recovered quickly, smirking as she tilted her head. “Oh, please. Don’t play the ignorant fool with me. Ever since you walked into my life, everything’s been a mess. My friends turned on me, Faisu left me, and you... you just sit there, acting like you’re above it all.”

Siddharth’s gaze hardened. “I didn’t destroy your friendships, Avneet. You did that all by yourself.”

Her throat tightened. She hated that his words cut through her armor so easily. “You think you know everything about me, huh?” she whispered, voice trembling despite her smirk. “You don’t. You don’t know what it’s like to fight every damn day just to...”

She stopped herself abruptly, realizing how close she was to slipping. Her mask slammed back in place. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Siddharth studied her, his silence heavier than any insult. His eyes flickered... just for a second... with something softer. Pity. Confusion. Something she couldn’t name.

And that made her furious.

“Keep looking at me like that,” she sneered, forcing a smirk, “like I’m some broken charity case. But let me tell you something, Siddharth Nigam... I don’t need you. I never did. I never will.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just said quietly, “If that’s true, why are you here, Avneet? I didn't ask you to come and sit beside me...”

Her breath hitched. She had no answer.

The silence stretched between them, thick and unbearable.

Siddharth exhaled slowly, His face gave nothing away. But inside, her words still echoed, unraveling the edges of his carefully built hatred.

She had stopped herself. Shut down. Thrown her walls back up.

He pressed his palms against his temples, breathing slowly, fighting the storm inside his head.

Why did it matter? Why couldn’t he just ignore her?

She had drugged him. Humiliated him. Nearly destroyed him. He should hate her. He did hate her.

And yet...

Her face flashed in his mind, not the smirking queen bee, but the flicker of something raw, something desperate. The way her voice cracked when she spat out those half-words.

It looked too real. Too uncalculated.

He clenched his fists. “She’s a liar,” he muttered under his breath.

And yet, the words didn’t settle. They sounded hollow.

Because another memory crept in... the night outside the bar, when she was drunk, when she whispered broken confessions.

His chest tightened, frustration rising.

Maybe he was weak. Maybe that’s what she was doing to him... making him weak.

And yet, deep down, another voice whispered: What if it’s not a lie? What if she’s really just… broken?

“I won’t forgive her,” he said to himself, voice low and hard. “But I can’t stop seeing her either.”

The bus roared onto the highway, sunlight spilling through the windows as laughter and music filled the air. Someone in the middle row started a game of Antakshari. A couple at the front was already bickering over snacks.

But Avneet’s attention stayed locked on the man beside her. She tried a new tactic... silence... just to see if he’d crack.

Nothing. He didn’t so much as shift.

So naturally, she gave up on silence within few minutes.

“You know what’s funny?” she began, tilting her head against the seat so she was looking right at him. “You like literally say anything to me... Keep insulting me again and again... And here I am still trying to sitting beside you”

That made him glance at her. Just a fraction, but enough for her to catch it.

“Do you enjoy it, Siddharth? Watching me fall apart?”

Her lips curled. Got him.

His voice was quiet, even. “Maybe you should stop blaming me for the choices you made.”

Her smirk faltered. That stung more than she expected. She shifted her gaze away, biting the inside of her cheek before she smoothed her expression back into that untouchable mask.

“Or maybe,” she said lightly, “you like seeing me burn. Admit it... you like me like this.”

He didn’t answer. His silence pressed harder than his words.

The bus hit a bump, jolting her sideways. She instinctively grabbed the nearest thing... his arm. Solid. Steady. Safe

She froze, then quickly pulled back, laughing to cover the moment. “Wow, Siddharth Nigam doubles as a seatbelt. Who knew?”

He glanced down at where her hand had been, his jaw tightening. But he didn’t say a word.

That tiny slip sent something strange through her chest. Annoying. She wasn’t supposed to feel this.

So she deflected the only way she knew how... mockery.

“You know, I was supposed to be in Paris this weekend,” she said, flicking her hair back. “A yacht, champagne, designer dresses… instead I’m here, in this rusty bus. With you.”

And that’s when it happened.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. But enough.

Avneet’s eyes widened. She gasped, pointing at his face. “Oh my god. Did you just… almost smile? You do like me.”

His voice was dry as dust. “Don’t push it.”

But Avneet beamed like she’d won a trophy.

For the rest of the ride, she didn’t shut up. She teased him, told exaggerated stories, commented on everyone else on the bus just to try and make him react. He gave her nothing in return... but twice, when she laughed too loudly, she caught his eyes flicker toward her, like he was listening despite himself.

At one point, her voice dipped without her realizing. “You know… people think I’m untouchable. Queen bee. They don’t see that everything feels… different. Since you came. Like you broke something.”

She said it with a half-smile, but the words were heavier than her tone.

For a second, she swore she saw his hand twitch, as if he almost reached for her. But then the bus lurched again, laughter exploded in the aisle, and he leaned back into his corner, walls rebuilt.

Avneet turned her face to the window, hiding the strange sting in her chest. She told herself it was just the bus ride, just the heat, just boredom.

But the truth was, for the first time in a long time, sitting beside someone made her feel less alone.

For the rest of the ride, she didn’t stop talking... half to annoy him, half to fill the silence she was secretly afraid of. And though he didn’t reply again, once or twice, she caught him listening.

Later, When they reached at the destination and everyone started getting down. When the crowd thinned, she found herself stuck. Literally. Her heel had sunk into the soft mud near the field. She tugged and cursed, balance wobbling dangerously.

“Of course,” she muttered. “Story of my life.”

A hand appeared in front of her. Large, calloused, steady.

Siddharth.

“Take it,” he said simply. No mockery. No coldness. Just… neutral.

For a second, she froze. Then, against her own instincts, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her free with ease, then stepped back like nothing happened.

“Why did you...” she started, her voice unsteady.

“You already know.” He replied.