"chapters of us "

Hazel sat in the quiet corner of the library, surrounded by books on human psychology. The next workshop session was on Wednesday, and if she was going to be there, she wanted to be prepared. Her fingers traced the pages as she read about cognitive biases, but her mind drifted now and then—to the fresher's party, to the dance, to him.

She shook her head, snapping herself out of it. Focus, Hazel.

Just as she was getting back into her reading, a familiar scent reached her. It was subtle but distinct—a mix of musk and something fresh, like cedarwood and citrus. Her body tensed before she even looked up.

She already knew who it was.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, and there he was—the mysterious guy, standing a few shelves away, scanning through a book as if he wasn't aware of her presence. Yeah, right.

Hazel bit her lip. The curiosity, the frustration, the unanswered questions—it was too much. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stood up, walked toward him, and stopped just close enough for him to notice.

"You disappeared last night," she whispered, keeping her voice low for the library's sake.

He turned his head slightly, looking at her with those deep brown eyes, amusement flickering in them. Like he had been expecting her.

He didn't say a word. Instead, he pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for her to stay quiet. Hazel narrowed her eyes at him. Oh, so he was going to take advantage of the library rules now?

She crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. "At least tell me your name," she whispered again.

He smirked, flipping a page of the book he was pretending to read. Then, with a small glance in her direction, he raised an eyebrow—as if saying, Not here.

Hazel exhaled sharply. This guy is impossible.

Hazel clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. This guy was seriously testing her patience. She had tried to be nice, had given him a chance to answer, but no—he just had to play this infuriating little game.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I don't care," she whispered sharply, turning on her heel and storming back to her seat.

She sank into her chair, gripping her book a little too tightly. Stupid guy. Stupid smirk. Stupid intense eye contact. She forced her focus back onto the page, determined to drown herself in human psychology rather than the mystery that was him.

A few minutes passed. The silence of the library settled in. She started to believe that was the end of it—until something landed softly on her table.

A small, folded piece of paper.

Her breath hitched.

Hazel's eyes flickered up instinctively, scanning the rows of bookshelves. He was gone.

She stared at the chit like it was a ticking time bomb. Ignore it. You don't care, remember?

She turned another page of her book.

Then another.

Her fingers twitched.

Oh, for God's sake.

With a sigh, she snatched the paper and slowly unfolded it. Her heart did an uninvited little jump as she read the words written in sharp, confident handwriting.

"You ask too many questions, Hazel."

Her stomach flipped. He knows my name?

And then, just below it—finally, the answer she had been chasing.

Aarav.

She traced the letters with her thumb, her mind racing.

Aarav.

So, he had known who she was all along. But how? And why did it feel like he was still winning this game?

Hazel smirked to herself as she walked into the lecture hall earlier than usual. Alright, Aarav. If you want to play games, let's see how well you handle it when I start playing too.

She slid into a seat near the middle, setting her bag down with a sense of determination. Today, she wasn't going to overthink anything—especially not mysterious glances, teasing notes, or the way his presence made her heart skip for no good reason.

The classroom was mostly empty, so she pulled out her phone and untangled her earphones. Music. That's what I need. Something good, something that could drown out the lingering thoughts of a certain someone.

She scrolled through her playlist before hitting play, letting the music fill her ears. With her eyes closed, she tapped her fingers lightly on the desk, losing herself in the melody.

Hazel was lost in her music, letting the melody drown out the unfamiliar whirlwind of emotions. How could someone make her feel like this? It was new, unsettling, yet strangely exciting. But she had made up her mind—she would play along. Let's see how this goes.

Just as she was sinking deeper into her thoughts, a light tap on her desk pulled her back to reality. She blinked, and there he was—Aarav.

She didn't flinch, didn't let the surprise show on her face. Instead, she casually pulled out one earphone and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

Aarav, as usual, said nothing. His brown eyes held a flicker of amusement as he slid into the seat beside her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hazel's fingers hovered over her phone, pretending to adjust the music, but in reality, she was hyper-aware of his presence. He didn't speak. He didn't have to.

Then, without a word, he pulled out his own headphones and put them on.

Hazel bit the inside of her cheek to stop the smirk forming on her lips. So that's how we're playing it?

Neither of them spoke. A silent game had begun.The workshop began, and Hazel straightened in her seat, pushing aside any distractions—or at least trying to. Aarav's presence next to her wasn't helping.

The professor walked in and wasted no time, diving straight into a discussion. "Let's start with a simple question," he said, pacing at the front of the room. "In human psychology, we often talk about the concept of emotional influence. Sometimes, we meet people who, without saying much, affect us deeply. Why do you think that happens?"

Hazel felt Aarav shift slightly beside her. Oh, this is interesting.

A few students gave standard textbook answers, talking about familiarity, past experiences, and subconscious triggers. But Hazel leaned forward, deciding to have a little fun.

"Sometimes," she said, her voice clear, "it's not about what a person says or does. It's about how they exist around you. Their presence alone can demand your attention—even when you don't want it to." She glanced sideways, her expression unreadable. "It's frustrating, really. Like a silent challenge you never signed up for."

Aarav's hand, resting casually on the desk, tensed slightly.

The professor nodded. "Interesting perspective. So, are you saying this influence is involuntary?"

Hazel tilted her head, letting a slow smile creep in. "Not always. Sometimes, when you realize what's happening… you decide to play along."

For the first time, Aarav turned his head and looked at her.

Hazel didn't break eye contact. Did he get the message?

His lips curved—just a little. Oh, he definitely got it.

The professor's gaze landed on Aarav. "You seem a little distracted," he noted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Why don't you take the next question?"

Hazel bit the inside of her cheek, her smirk hidden as she leaned back in her chair, waiting to see how he'd handle it.

The professor continued, "What makes people engage in subtle psychological games with each other? Is it curiosity, control… or something deeper?"

Aarav, who had been perfectly composed until now, blinked slowly—clearly pulled out of whatever thought he'd been lost in. His head turned slightly toward Hazel, and for a second, she thought she saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression.

He took his time answering, his voice smooth but thoughtful. "It's not always about control or curiosity. Sometimes, people play these… games," he said, glancing at Hazel again, "because they want to see how far the other person is willing to go without breaking first."

Hazel's heart skipped—was that directed at her?

The professor nodded, intrigued. "Interesting. So, you believe it's a test of emotional endurance?"

Aarav's lips curved slightly. "Or… it's a way to create tension where words would ruin it."

Hazel felt that. Felt it like a challenge.

And for the first time, she wasn't entirely sure who was winning anymore.

---

The workshop ended, and Hazel gathered her things, determined to walk out without acknowledging Aarav. Let him sit there and wonder.

But just as she reached the door, a voice—smooth and unbothered—caught up to her.

"You always have this habit of making an exit without a closing statement?"

She stopped but didn't turn immediately. Oh, he wants to play? Fine.

Tilting her head slightly, she glanced at him. "I didn't think you needed one."

Aarav leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "And yet, you waited."

Hazel scoffed. "I did not."

His smirk deepened. "You did." Then, after a brief pause, he added, "You were good in there."

She raised an eyebrow. "Of course. I like winning."

Aarav nodded, his gaze steady. "So do I." Then, without another word, he walked past her and left first.

Hazel stood there for a second, gripping her book a little tighter. Oh, so that's how we're playing this?

Fine. Game on.

The kitchen smelled like buttery toast and warm tomato soup as Hazel flipped a grilled cheese sandwich on the pan. The golden crust sizzled, but her thoughts were far from food.

Aarav stopping her at the door.

The way he looked at her—calm yet unreadable.

How he left first, leaving her stuck in an unfinished conversation.

She hated that it was still on her mind.

Just then, Naina waltzed in, dramatically inhaling the air. "Oh my god, tell me this is for me."

Hazel smirked. "No, I made two sandwiches for myself. You can watch."

Naina pouted, stealing a piece of cheese from the counter. "So rude. Anyway—guess who texted me?"

Hazel raised an eyebrow. "Kabir?"

Naina grinned. "Damn right. He's actually funny, not just 'hot guy' funny. I might be in love."

Hazel rolled her eyes. "You met him once."

Naina shrugged. "Love at first sight is real. Look at you and your mystery man."

Hazel froze mid-bite. "Excuse me?"

Naina leaned on the counter, smirking. "You've been in your head since you got home. Let me guess—ballroom guy or workshop guy?"

Hazel sighed. "You need to stop calling them that."

Naina gasped. "Wait. Are they the same guy?!"

Hazel threw a dish towel at her. "Eat your damn sandwich."

But even as they ate, her mind refused to let go of one thought.

Aarav already knew her name.

And she had no idea how.