Chapter 28

Monday morning arrived with its usual hum of activity at St. Xavier’s. Students rushed across the courtyard, laughter echoing through the corridors, the smell of chalk and fresh paper filling the air. Yet, for two professors, the day carried a weight that words could not easily express.

Poornima Rai entered first, dressed in her usual simplicity—a pale yellow kurta, her hair loosely tied, her books held against her chest. She walked through the staff corridor, offering small nods and polite smiles to colleagues. But her eyes, despite their calm, carried something softer—something unsettled.

At the far end, Professor Veeresh Raj appeared. Impeccably dressed in his crisp shirt and dark trousers, his stride as commanding as always. Yet, the moment his gaze lifted, his eyes found hers instantly, as though the crowded hallway had vanished.

For a brief second, the world stilled.

Her eyes held his—calm, questioning, almost wounded. Why did you push me away that day? they seemed to ask. Why did you close the distance only to break it again?

His gaze, sharp yet restless, met hers. Because you matter more than I expected. Because my world is too dark for your light.

Neither spoke. Their colleagues walked past, students greeted, voices rose around them, yet their silence said more than words could.

Poornima lowered her gaze first, turning slightly, her steps slow but steady. But Veeresh’s eyes lingered, following her retreating figure with an intensity that betrayed the storm inside him.

When he entered his class, his voice was as firm as ever, his lesson on “Market Disruptions and Strategies” delivered with precision. But behind every example, every strong sentence, his mind replayed the softness of her eyes—the quiet accusation, the quiet longing.

Meanwhile, in her classroom, Poornima’s voice carried warmth as she explained poetry, but her thoughts wandered. Every time she looked up from her book, she remembered the way his eyes had held hers—fierce, unspoken, unfinished.

It wasn’t love yet. But it was something deeper than curiosity, more dangerous than admiration. It was the beginning of a language only their eyes knew, one they weren’t ready to confess aloud.