~IRAANYA KASHYAP~

By the time evening rolls down, I freshen up, do my skincare routine and slip into a comfortable pair of trousers and a tank top.

I tie my hair into a ponytail. I love my hair in winter, it feels alive then, like they are meant to open warming me up paired with soft sweaters.

But summer turns it into a furnace, clinging to my neck, sticking to my skin no matter how many times I brush it back.

The mirror stares back, too honest for my liking. I look at myself for a beat longer than I should, wondering why I still do that... waiting for something to look different when nothing ever does. To look pure rather scarred internally.

The moment someone's gaze lingers too long, my skin starts to feel too small, my throat too tight. I start to wonder what they're seeing, what they think, and a part of me wants to disappear before they can decide my worth.

It's not their fault, and yet, I can't stop myself.

Sometimes I feel like there's a stain on my soul everyone else can see.

I sigh and smooth the loose strands near my temple, a small act of control in a day that probably won't offer much of it.

I decided to walk in exactly two minutes early.

I knock softly on the library door.

"Enter," comes the deep, commanding voice from behind the large oak doors.

I step inside quietly, closing the door behind me. Alonzo sits in the chair, already reading a book.

"You are late," he announces, not even bothering to check time. He closes his book and looks up at me.

"Excuse me? I'm early."

"You were meant to arrive five minutes ago to settle in. Now you are just on time. Which makes you late."

What the actual fuck?

"No swearing."

My jaw falls slightly. Did I... oh God. I thought that too loud again.

"Take your seat, you've already wasted enough time."

"That's bullshit." I slam my books down a little harder than necessary to make my point.

"I was early and would have settled in meantime if you didn't start throwing me baseless accusations of being late."

Alonzo arches his brow. "You're going to be a lawyer. I suggest you start practicing the art of keeping your temper in check."

He flips through my notes and starts straitening the crooked pages of them, and after a moment of silence he adds, "Argue with precision, not temper that would actually help your career. Don't give away too many emotions in your life."

Sure. Coming from a man whose face looks like it's allergic to emotion.

"You could atleast pretend to be encouraging on my first day."

He finally looks up. Those forest green eyes and cold and too much. They don't wander. They study. And for some reason, that feels more intimate than touch.

"Encouragement is for children. You asked me to make you better. Not comfortable." Inhaling deeply he says, "Now take a seat."

This one is going to be hell of the experiences ever. Bhagwan ji, bas mental balance bana rehne dena… zinda rehna to main jugad kar hi loongi.

(God, just help me keep my mind balanced… surviving, I'll somehow manage on my own.)

As much as I pride myself into winning an argument I let that pass and walk toward the chair opposite him, smoothing my trousers before sitting down.

Nerves suddenly crawl under my skin. What if he thinks I'm dumb and calls Papa and ends the whole tutoring thing? Papa would be ashamed of me.

No, it can't happen. I won't let that happen.

Why did I even choose this subject? I could've been a photographer or a travel blogger. But nooo, Miss "I love challenges" had to pick the law degree that drains every cell of serotonin from my body.

A hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my spiral. I jolt slightly. His touch is warm, uninvited but grounding. I look up to find him staring at me, as if trying to read every thought.

"You are already spacing out, I called your name three times."

My gaze drops to his hand still resting on my bare shoulder, heat rushes beneath my skin, crawling upward. My heart stutters, which is inconvenient because I'm trying to look unimpressed.

He feels it too, that flicker of awareness and withdraws immediately, almost too fast.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, my voice laced with embarrassment, growing more nervous than before for spacing out.

He nods. composed again and slides his chair closer to mine. The sound of it scraping the floor makes my pulse quicken for no good reason. "Alright, let's go through this topic."

 Alonzo starts explaining the test papers he has prepared for me.

"Here." He points at the problem on the page. His hand brushes the edge of mine which sets my heart off as if it's louder than the turning of a hundred pages around us.

"You should try this method, it's more effective and time-saving," he says quietly, his voice close enough that I can feel his breath stir a strand of my hair.

I nod, though I barely absorb his words.

Focus, Iraanya.

He's your tutor.

He's older. He probably has a girlfriend. Maybe a fiancée.

You're here to study law, not his jawline.

But god that jawline is distracting.

I blink rapidly, trying to clear my head.

"Solve these test papers by tomorrow and now we'll go through criminal law." he says, rising from his seat. His gaze lingers on me for a fraction longer than necessary before he turns toward the bookshelf.

We go through a few more papers. This time I find my attention back to the tutoring rather than the tutor. No doubt, he is a brilliant explainer– patient even. Whenever I don't understand anything, he slows down, takes another approach, explains through analogies without once making me feel stupid.

"That'll be enough for today. Go through everything I taught once more." He hands me the book and test papers.

"Okay." I take the cue to leave and gather my papers.

But I pause midway and glance back at him. He's already watching me.

"Thank you, Alonzo."

The name leaves my mouth softer than I intend.

Something dark flickers in his eyes. Was that because I called him by his first name?

Maybe he doesn't like that. I'll remember that next time.

"You're a brilliant teacher," I continue, ignoring the way he's still staring dead in my eyes. "I wish we had someone like you at uni. The professors in the online classes suck, throwing assignments without even explaining properly."

He just nods, going back to read his book. His composure is unnerving like nothing I say can crack him open.

Oh, of course. The great Alonzo Accardi– king of nods, the human embodiment of silence.

Sir, blink twice if you have vocal cords!

Damn. I forgot to peek at the title of that book again.

I stifle a laugh, biting my lower lip to keep it in, and turn to leave before I blurt out something stupid or I might blush and embarrass myself. What? I am an overthinker.

Phew... That went pretty well. He's bad but not that bad.

Maybe terrifyingly perfect.

Maybe too perfect.

And God help me, I think I want to be the chaos that ruins his order.

The living room has become my new favorite spot for studying apart from the library. My notes are scattered on the floor, and my laptop rests on the table. Lightning and thunder crash outside, echoing beautifully through the silent house. I prefer background noise over the suffocating quiet.

The exam date creeps closer every second, and no matter how much I study, it never feels enough. On top of that, I have online lectures every morning. How the fuck professors wake up early, wear neat suits, and start reading from slides is beyond me.

I'm skimming through my notes when Jane appears beside me with a cup in hand.

"You were probably sitting in the same position for at least three hours." She chides softly, handing me the cup of coffee and goes to sit on the sofa behind me. "I've been watching you and thought you might like refreshment."

My heart warms at her thoughtfulness. "Thank you so much, I really needed it to go through this." I admit, pointing at the mess of sheets on the table.

I take a sip. Jane runs a gentle hand through my hair, smiling, fine lines deepening at the corners of her lips.

"You work a lot, just like Mr. Accardi. He's always doing something."

My attention instantly picks up at his name "Never in a decade have I seen him idle or even watching TV for relaxation," she adds, still massaging my scalp lightly.

"He probably doesn't have a social life."

Jane laughs, and I join her at the mental image of Alonzo dancing in a packed club.

"Still, it shocks me how people make themselves so busy," she sighs. "You guys probably don't take a nap during the day as well."

To make myself busy is to build a barrier between past and present. To avoid the memories of the past. The thought hits me hard. Maybe that's why I always need to do something.

We're back in Delhi for vacations, my home before mumma passed away and I had to move with Papa to California.

Papa is cooking breakfast for both of us while I'm fiddling with my camera settings. It's a new digital camera papa bought for me on my fourteenth birthday.

I start filming him while he's boiling the tea. "Can I get a cup too?" I ask, zooming in on the simmering pan.

"No. Kids shouldn't take tea. And stop filming the mess on the countertop, Aanya." he scolds, filtering the tea and handing me a bowl of upma.

"And when will I not be 'a kid' to you?" I  fake-cry which doesn't affect him a bit.

I need to upgrade my acting skills.

"Nowhere near the next hundred years." He gazes softly and he grins at me.

"A sip?" I plead, giving him my best puppy eyes.

"No and stop looking at me like that." he says, extracting a cup from the shelf. "Don't film me, Aanya."

"Please, Papa, I want to taste it. Just once. Aren't you my favorite person in the world?"

His shoulder rises inches from my buttering and I know he's caving for it. "Fine, only this once."

He passes me a small cup of tea and when I take a sip, it tastes heavenly. We eat our breakfast not in silence but in arguments about whether we should go to see Taj Mahal today or not.

"Aanya, do you want to use your new camera on the trip?" he asks between bites.

"That's the main reason I want to go."

"Did you see the weather today?"

"No, why?"

"It's going to rain today, princess. We can visit tomorrow when it's sunny and you can use your camera properly. And today we can watch some movies."

I agree with the postponement of our plans and the idea of watching a movie with papa while it's raining outside sounds even better.

"Action or comedy?" I ask him when his phone starts buzzing and a surprising look passes his face when he sees the caller ID.

He picks up the call and goes very still when the other person speaks, phone pressed too tightly to his ear. His eyes widened, color draining from his face.

"I…I can send money. She won't appreciate my presence there," he whispers, a worried look on his face.

"What? She's alone? Where the fuck are you?" he snaps into the phone, voice breaking between curses he would never use in front of me.

"Papa? What happened? Who is it?" I ask worriedly, too scared of what would have happened now.

Papa ignores my questions and shoots up so quickly the chair nearly falls, goes over the drawers fumbling with his wallet and car keys.

"Shit– no, no, I'm coming," he rasps into the phone, before hanging up and starts moving toward the front door.

I could feel my heart hammering in my heart, scared of being left alone with the ghost of memories of last year.

I give a slight tug on his sleeve and as if he broke from the trance and looks down at me. He looks scared and if he is scared I should be scared too.

"You're scaring me, Papa. What happened?" I whisper, clutching his sleeve tighter.

He clenches his jaw, contemplating on something.

"Your Nanu…" he pauses, then softens. "He's sick, and Nani's alone in the hospital. I need to go there right now. Will you be fine here for a few hours?"

My world cracks, feeling something similar is happening all over again. Mumma and me. Now Nanu and Nani.

"Is… is he alright?" Tears burn in my eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't– " his voice falters, he shakes his head hard, like he could erase my fear by sheer force. "He's fighting, okay? But I've gotta be there. For him and Nani maa."

He cups my face. "You can stay here if you want, I promise, I'll be back when your mamu reaches there." By the look on his face and fear in eyes, I think I already know how this is going to end.

"I want to come," I insist, dismissing the negative thoughts from my mind. Not everything ends the way you think, Aanya. "Please."

He drops to his knees, slides my jacket over my shoulders, zips it up. "Stay by my side, okay?" he says, kissing my forehead.

Always.

"Iraanya?" Jane's soft voice tugs me back. I blink, realizing I've been staring at nothing for who knows how long. She tilts her head, confusion creasing her brow.

"Where are you lost?"

I shake my head quickly, words failing. "Nowhere. Just... stressed about finishing this on time."

She nods at me though I feel like she doesn't buy it. "I'm sure you will. Don't burden yourself too mch."

I exhale quietly. I didn't even realize how far my mind had drifted. The weight in my chest had started pulling me toward places I swore I'd never go again. But thanks to her interruption, I'm safe from myself… for now.

Happy reading <3