A/N :

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Kayal's pov:

Time flies faster than I can blink.

It feels like yesterday was my first day of college and I was standing near the notice board with shaking fingers and a brand new pen that didn't even work. And now?
Next week, I have internal exams.

I closed my book and stared at the ceiling fan.

Corporate Law was spinning my brain faster than those fan blades. No matter how many times I read that same paragraph on Company Formation, my mind kept drifting like sometimes to irrelevant things like why staplers jam at the worst moments, and sometimes to more serious things like what am I even doing here?

I wanted this.
I asked for this.
But suddenly, I felt like I was drowning.

The door creaked open.

I didn't have to look. I knew it was him.

His footsteps were light, like he knew I was frustrated and didn't want to push me. But he still came and sat across from me at the table, placing his cup of filter coffee down.

"You've been staring at the same page for thirty minutes," he said gently, sliding my pen back into my hand.

I groaned and dropped my head onto the book. "This law paper is evil. Pure evil."

He chuckled. "It's just got too many sections. Want me to help?"

"No... you'll teach me like a professor. I want someone who'll sympathize and cry with me."

"I can fake-cry," he offered seriously.

I looked up at him through my hair and couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me.

He took the chair beside mine and opened his own book. "Okay, tell me which part is haunting your dreams."

"Section 8. Non-profit companies. I don't get the point. Like, why do they exist if they're not earning?"

"Kayal," he said in that calm professor tone, "not everything runs for profit. Some things exist to serve, to uplift, to give back."

"Like you," I muttered without thinking.

He paused , just for a second  and then smiled, not commenting.

He started explaining, slowly, connecting it to real-life examples, even cracking a joke halfway about how our house functions like an NGO because we feed every stray cat in the street.

I tried to smile. I tried to listen. But something inside me was still heavy.

"I don't think I'm smart enough for this," I whispered suddenly.

His pen stilled.

"What?"

"I mean it," I said, voice low. "I was always told I'm talkative, cheerful, helpful — but never... intelligent. You know? And now I sit here surrounded by people who know how to use words like equity, liquidation, statutory obligations like they were born with a CA degree."

I didn't realize I was tearing up until he turned toward me and said, quietly, "Kayal..."

I shook my head, laughing bitterly. "It's funny, right? I thought studying PG would make me feel proud. Empowered. But now it just makes me feel small. Lost."

He didn't say anything.

Instead, he reached across the table and took my hand.

Just held it.

Then slowly, without a word, he brought my hand toward his chest... and placed it over his heart.

"Feel that?" he asked.

I blinked, confused. "Your heartbeat?"

He nodded.

"I've taught hundreds of students," he said softly. "Some of them topped the university. Some are working in big firms now. Some didn't even pass. But none of them... none of them made me feel what you make me feel when you sit here and try — with every bit of that stubborn little heart."

I stared at him, breathing slowly, my hand still over his chest.

"When you finally believe in yourself, Kayal..." he whispered, "everything would be fine."

My throat closed up.

"I don't need you to top the class," he added. "I just want you to stop doubting the girl I've believed in since she was ten years old and beat me in an argument about mangoes vs. oranges."

I laughed through my tears.

"Oranges are still better," I mumbled.

"Lies," he said with a grin.

And for the first time that whole week, I smiled without pressure. Without fear. Without the need to prove something.

I just smiled because he was beside me.

And maybe ,just maybe.....that was enough to try again tomorrow.

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