In the morning, Avneet stirred first. Her body was stiff, sore from sleeping against rough stone and dirt, but… warm. Too warm. Her lashes fluttered, and then she froze.

Her cheek was pressed against Siddharth’s chest, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath her ear. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, the other draped protectively over her shoulder. They were tangled together in a way that looked intimate, natural... like they belonged there.

Her breath caught. For a moment, she just… stayed. Listened to him breathing. Felt his warmth.

Then reality slammed into her.

She jerked slightly, but his arm tightened instinctively, as though even in his sleep he refused to let her go.

She looked at him. His face was calmer in sleep, stripped of the cold walls he always wore.

Her heart twisted in a way she hated.

“Idiot,” she whispered under her breath, brushing dirt off her arms. “Always making me feel things I shouldn’t.”

Just then, Siddharth stirred. His brow furrowed, lashes lifting slowly as his dark eyes blinked into the morning light.

The moment his gaze found her, his arm dropped from where she had been. The mask snapped back into place. Cold. Detached.

“You’re still here,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

“Where else would I go? We’re lost, remember?” she shot back, masking her nerves with attitude.

He glanced down at the bandage on his thigh. His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she sneered, though her voice wavered, “next time I’ll let you bleed out on the forest floor. My mistake.”

Their eyes locked, sharp and unyielding, but beneath it ran something neither of them dared name.

Silence stretched, broken only by the forest waking around them.

Finally, Siddharth pushed himself upright with a wince. Taking his shirt off and throwing it at her... “Wear this, let's go... We need to move. Sitting here isn’t helping.”

Avneet got to her feet too, brushing leaves from her. Buttoned his huge shirt on her small frame. She glanced at him... the way he hid the pain, the way he refused to lean on her even though he clearly needed support.

Something in her softened before she could stop it. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

But as they started walking, Siddharth’s hand brushed against hers briefly... maybe by accident, maybe not. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t say a word.

Still, the warmth of that fleeting contact lingered all the way through the morning.

And Avneet hated how much it mattered.

Siddharth walked a pace ahead, his limp obvious though he tried to mask it. Avneet followed close behind.

“So,” she said finally, forcing lightness into her tone, “when people talk about adventurous college trips, I don’t think ‘getting lost in the forest with enemy’ is what they mean.”

Siddharth didn’t answer.

“Seriously, Siddharth,” she continued, exaggerating a groan, “you’re the worst partner ever. You bleed, you faint, and then you don’t even thank me for saving your ass.”

Still nothing. Just the sound of their footsteps crunching leaves.

Avneet narrowed her eyes. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“I am,” he said quietly, his voice low, controlled.

“Oh yeah? Then repeat what I said.”

He stopped suddenly, turning his head slightly, just enough to pin her with that sharp gaze. “You said I was the worst partner you’ve ever had.”

For a second, she forgot how to breathe, Then she rolled her eyes, forcing a smirk. “Wow. You do know how to listen. Congratulations.”

He turned away again, resuming his limping stride.

“You don’t have to act so tough, you know,” she muttered, almost too low for him to hear. “It’s okay to lean on someone sometimes.”

He stiffened. Didn’t stop walking. “I don’t lean on anyone.”

“I noticed,” she whispered, but louder she added with a laugh, “Good. Because I wouldn’t want your weight crushing me anyway.”

His lips twitched... not quite a smile, but not nothing either.

For a few moments, they walked in silence again. The trees parted slightly, sunlight spilling onto the trail, warming the air.

Avneet pushed her hair back, her usual arrogance slipping back into place. “You know, everyone’s probably freaking out back at camp. When we show up, they’ll think we had some epic bonding session.”

Siddharth gave her a long glance. “And?”

“And,” she said with a smirk, “I’m totally telling them you cried and begged me to carry you.”

For a second... his cold facade cracked. His brow furrowed, and then his lips pressed tight, as though he were holding back words he’d never let out.

Siddharth slowed his pace just slightly, enough to watch the sway of her stride, the stubborn lift of her chin.

He told himself it was because he didn’t trust her.

After what felt like hours, the faint echo of voices carried through the air.

Avneet’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Finally,” she sighed.

They stepped out into a clearing just short of the camp. The firelight flickered across Avneet’s face, the strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. She exhaled shakily, suddenly aware that in a few more steps, their fragile… whatever this was… would vanish in the crowd’s noise.

Siddharth stopped too, his gaze fixed ahead.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Avneet crossed her arms. “So what’s the story?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, leaning against a tree with mock nonchalance, “are we telling them we got lost like idiots, or are we saying we were on some secret mission to slay wild animals and save the forest?”

Siddharth’s eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “We don’t need a story.”

“Wrong.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping lower, serious now. “We do. Because if we walk in looking like this...” she gestured to him shirtless, his torn pants, the blood seeping through, her bare shoulders in only the sports bra and his shirt, “people will ask questions”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her like he could see through her game, see how hard she was fighting to act like the same untouchable Avneet.

She stepped past him before he could reply.

And then they were there.

Dozens of heads turned as they emerged from the clearing. The professor’s brows shot up.

Avneet straightened her spine, flashing her most arrogant smile, like she’d just returned from a royal parade instead of a night lost in the forest. “What? Did you guys miss us?”

“Where the hell were you?!” Ritika shrieked, her voice sharp enough to turn heads. “The whole camp’s been looking for you!”

The professor stormed forward, relief and fury mingling. “Do you two have any idea how dangerous this was? You vanished during a group activity... this isn’t a playground!”

Gasps, whispers, chuckles spread through the group. The professor scolded them about safety, Avneet barely heard any of it. She could feel all the stares burning into her, judging, assuming.

So she laughed instead, tossing her hair. “Relax, we survived. You should be thanking us for making this boring trip interesting.”

“Sid!” Ritika gasped, rushing to his side. She grabbed his arm, supporting him before he stumbled. “Oh my God, you’re hurt....what happened?”

“Did you do this?” Ritika asked, “Avneet, what the hell did you drag him into?”

Avneet’s lips curled into a smirk, though her chest tightened at the accusation. “Please, don’t be dramatic. We got lost in the forest, that’s all. He tripped. I...” she paused deliberately, tilting her chin...“helped him. You’re welcome.”

“Oh please Avneet, What did you do to him?” Her voice carried weight, heavy enough that even a few bystanders sucked in their breath. “Did you push him? Pick a fight? You always have some game. Tell me right now.”

Avneet laughed, sharp and hollow, though her insides were twisting. “Seriously? You think I’d waste my time hurting him?”

But then Siddharth spoke.

“Enough.

The single word cut through the chaos. His voice was hoarse but steady, his gaze sharp despite the exhaustion.

Siddharth shifted, straightening despite the pain. “She didn’t do anything.”

The group went silent. Even Avneet blinked.

“She didn’t hurt me,” Siddharth repeated. His eyes flicked toward Avneet for the briefest second, unreadable. “I got careless. That’s all.”

Whispers erupted instantly. Some doubting. Some believing. Some raising eyebrows at the strange tension between the two.

But Avneet stood frozen, pulse hammering. He defended her. He didn’t needed to... he could’ve let them all pile the blame on her and walk away.

She tossed her hair and scoffed, forcing her usual smirk. “See? Even he agrees I’m innocent. Maybe next time, think before you jump to conclusions.”

“Stop fighting right now... Sit down, Sid. We’ll clean this up right now.” Professor intervened and everyone fell silent as professor helped Siddharth to his tent and dress the wound.

The night had been restless.

Siddharth lay on the narrow camp bed, eyes fixed on the dim lantern hanging overhead. His body ached... the bandaged wound throbbed with every breath... but it wasn’t the pain that kept him awake.

It was her.

He closed his eyes, and like a cruel trick, the memories surged back.

Avneet kneeling over him in the forest, her face pale with fear, her hands trembling as she pressed her torn top against his bleeding side. Her hair clung to her damp skin, her sports bra barely shielding her, but she didn’t care. She was frantic, desperate.

He remembered the heat of her body when she forced him to lean on her, The way she wrapped herself around him in the night to shield him from the cold, even when he pushed her away.

And damn it all... he remembered how beautiful she looked in those moments. Not the arrogant, untouchable, but raw and real and terrified.

And it shook him to his core.

But then, like a shadow that refused to leave, the other memory bled in.
That night.

His fists clenched on the blanket. How could he be lying here, heart thundering for a girl who had once ruined him?

It didn’t make sense. She was supposed to be cruel. Manipulative. A liar.

Siddharth clenched his jaw, digging his nails into his palm. No. I can’t fall for this. She’s dangerous. Whatever softness she showed… it was temporary. A mask.

How could he want to thank her… when he should only hate her?

The tent flap rustled. Siddharth stiffened. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Sid?”

Her voice was soft. Nothing like the sharp arrogance she wore like armor around the others.

He turned his head, and there she was. Avneet, standing hesitantly by the entrance, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes uncertain. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“What do you want?” His tone came harsher than he intended.

She smirked faintly. “Relax. I’m not here to stab you. Just checking if you’re still breathing. Since, you know… I kept you from bleeding out.”

His jaw locked. “You make it sound like I owe you.”

“Maybe you do.” She shrugged, “It was my favorite top, Sid. That’s a tragedy you’ll never understand.”

Against his will, the corner of his mouth twitched. He crushed it immediately, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t twist this into a joke.”

Then she took a cautious step forward. “I… I just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

He almost laughed. Okay. As if that word meant anything anymore.

“You don’t have to,” he said flatly, though his voice lacked venom.

“I know.” She hesitated, wringing her hands, then whispered, “But I want to.”

That cracked something inside him. He sat up slowly,“Why? Why do you care now?” His voice trembled despite his effort to sound cold. “You didn’t care that night.”

Avneet flinched. Her gaze fell to the ground. She didn't expect him to bring that up again.

He pushed on, unable to stop the storm inside him. “You left me broken, Avneet. And then yesterday...” his throat closed, his mind flashing back to her bare skin, her hands on his wound, her panicked voice...

Her eyes shimmered. She swallowed hard. “I swear, Sid… yesterday, I was scared. I thought I’d lose you.”

Something twisted in his chest at her words. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to.

The silence stretched, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.

But the memory of that night clawed back. He turned away, his voice hard again. “You don’t get to erase what you did just by ripping your clothes off to save me once.”

Her face flinched, just for a second. Then she slipped her sunglasses on, masking her eyes. “Fine. Keep your hate. I’m used to it. Just don’t forget who kept you alive long enough to hate me today.”

She turned to leave.

But Siddharth couldn’t stop himself. “Avneet.”

She froze, her back to him. Slowly, she turned, eyebrows arched.

His chest heaved. “That night… did you enjoy it? Ruining me” His throat tightened around the word. “Raping me?”

For once, she didn’t fire back instantly. Her lips parted, but nothing came. Something raw flickered across her face... guilt, pain, something she buried too fast.

She stepped closer instead, tilting her head, covering the tremor in her voice with arrogance. “You’re still thinking about it. Must’ve mattered more to you than I thought.”

He surged up despite the pain in his leg, his face inches from hers. “Don’t.” His voice shook with fury. “Don’t you dare turn this into a game.”

For the first time, her smirk slipped completely. She stared at him... at the anger, the hurt, the storm in his eyes. Her own mask trembled.

And then, quietly, almost like she didn’t mean to say it: “I didn’t know it would… hurt you... break you like that.”

His breath caught.

She looked horrified by her own slip, quickly shoving her sunglasses back down. “Forget it,” she muttered, stepping back. “You’ll twist my words anyway.”

But Siddharth couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. That one sentence looped in his head, tangling with the memory of her torn top, her frantic hands on his wound.

For the first time since meeting her, he felt something dangerous stir between them. Not just hate. Not just rage. Something else.

Avneet turned on her heel, ready to storm off, her sunglasses hiding more than she wanted him to see. But before she could take two steps, Siddharth’s hand shot out.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm, unrelenting.

She froze. Slowly, she glanced back. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was unshakable. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with something between rage and desperation.

“What do you mean?” Siddharth growled, voice low, raw.

Avneet blinked. “what?”

“That you didn’t know it would break me.” His face was inches from hers now, the words tearing out of him. “Do you even understand what you did to me that night? Do you know what it’s like to wake up not knowing what happened to your own body? To feel filthy… powerless… because of you?”

Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling too fast. She wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

The words hung between them, heavy, suffocating. Her eyes glistened, and for the briefest second, guilt bled through. But then she yanked her wrist free, tearing herself out of his grip.

“You think I owe you explanations?” Her voice trembled, but she forced a smirk onto her lips. “I’m Avneet Kaur. I don’t explain myself to anyone.”

“Avneet.”

His voice wasn’t just angry. It was raw. Broken.

She froze, pulse hammering against her ribs, and turned slowly to face him.

“Say it,” Siddharth demanded, his voice low and hoarse. “Say it again. That you didn’t know. That it wasn’t supposed to destroy me.”

Her throat went dry. “Siddharth...”

Avneet’s mask slipped for the briefest moment. Her heart clenched painfully, though she forced herself to whisper, “I didn’t think it would matter that much. I thought you were like every other boy trying to act tough but only want women in their bed.”

Siddharth laughed bitterly, the sound raw. “Matter? It destroyed me, Avneet. You destroyed me.”

Siddharth searched her face. For lies. For cracks. For anything that could make sense of the chaos in his head.

“You ruined me life that night,” he said, softer now, almost like a confession.

She stepped closer, carefully this time, no mask, no smirk. “This is first and last time you will hear this from me.”
She exhaled... "I am really Sorry Nigam... If you want you can hate me, Siddharth Nigam,” she whispered.

He saw her, standing in front of him with trembling hands and tired eyes.

Finally, Siddharth lowered his gaze, his voice breaking into something softer. “You… helped me out there. Tearing of your t-shirt was big move... I didn't expect you to do that least for me.”

His throat ached as he forced the words out, each one scraping against the part of him that hated her.
“…Thank you.”

He exhaled, long and heavy, and let her go. “We’re not friends,” he said finally, voice low but no longer cruel. “But maybe…” his eyes softened just a fraction, “maybe we don’t have to be enemies either.”

It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was the first time she had said the word. And for now, that was enough.

Not love.
Not hate.
But the fragile, dangerous possibility of something in between.