Ezhil's pov:

I came home early today.
Not because I had fewer lectures or less work.
I just wasn't feeling well.

Maybe it was the mild ache behind my eyes or the dull throb in my forehead, but the moment I got home, I knew I wouldn't be able to sit upright for long. I freshened up, took a tablet, and sank into the sofa with a blanket and silence.

I didn't want to worry her.
Today was her last internal exam.

So I simply sent her a message - "Leaving now. Don't stress about anything. Good luck."

I closed my eyes, letting the fan whirl above me. A nap. Just a short nap. That's all I needed.

I didn't realize how much time had passed until the front door swung open with the energy of a celebration.

"Ezhil! My exams are over, you know what hap—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Then silence.

The kind of silence that you can feel.

When I slowly opened my eyes, she was already crouched beside me, her brows furrowed, her palm pressed gently against my forehead.

"You're burning with fever," she whispered, eyes wide with concern.

"It's nothing," I murmured, voice lower than I thought it would be. "Just a bit of a headache."

She touched my throat next, checked my pulse, frowned deeper. "You have a headache too? That's not just 'nothing', Ezhil."

I gave a weak smile, trying to sit up. "Really. It'll go."

She crossed her arms, glaring now. "Go? You've been overworking for weeks. You juggle your PhD, your lectures, content writing for competitive exams, accounts for that private firm... and if that wasn't enough, you agreed to correct question papers for that old sir who dumps his work on you."

I blinked.

Wait... "You were the one who put those papers on my table?"

"Yes. And I regret it now," she snapped. "I thought it was just casual help. I didn't know he gave you an entire stack."

"I didn't mind," I said quietly.

She looked exasperated. "That's your problem, Ezhil. You never mind. You never say no. And everyone takes advantage of it. I swear, if you agree to do something like this again, I'm going straight to the principal."

I chuckled, even through the dizziness. "Kayal ma..."

"No. Don't calm me down. You always do this. Always think of everyone else."

I looked at her.

This girl.

With fire in her eyes and care in her hands.

She wasn't scolding me. She was protecting me.
Maybe even loving me in the only way she knew how.

I felt her hand linger on my forehead again. Gentle this time.

"Come to the bedroom," she said softly. "You need to rest properly."

"I'm fine here," I said, adjusting the pillow behind my neck.

She stared. "Ezhil. Get up."

"I'm comfortable—"

"I swear, I'll throw this sofa out of the house right now."

I laughed. "You won't."

"Try me."

She folded her arms and stood there like she meant business.

I looked up at her. "You told me to sleep in the bedroom that day too."

"Yes. But you didn't listen."

"I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Her voice lowered. "You're not a stranger, Ezhil. You're... my."

That word.
Soft.
Almost like a secret.

She helped me up, one hand gently steadying my shoulder.

"Please, Ezhil," she whispered. "Just rest. Let me care for you too."

And I let her.

Because suddenly, I wasn't just tired.
I was overwhelmed.
With how much she noticed. With how much she remembered. And how much she cared.

I walked into the bedroom, letting her fuss over the pillows and tuck the blanket. I lay down, letting her fingers push my hair back from my forehead.

As she turned to go, I caught her hand.

"Kayal..."

She looked down at me.

"Thank you."

She smiled. "Sleep now."

But she didn't leave.

A few minutes later, I heard her softly enter again. She placed something on the bedside table.

"Drink this later. It's warm water with a bit of turmeric. Helps with body ache," she said, adjusting the blanket.

I nodded groggily.

Then I heard plates clink. She had gone to the kitchen. I drifted in and out of sleep, and when I woke up again, the smell of kanji filled the air.

She returned, this time holding a small tray.

"Kanji," she said simply, blowing on the spoon to cool it before offering it to me. "No lectures. Just eat."

(Porridge)

I sat up, slow and unsure, and let her feed me. I should have felt awkward. But I didn't.

Every spoonful carried something I hadn't felt in years.
Care.
Warmth.
Home.

She wiped the corners of my mouth when I coughed, clicked her tongue when I said I'd manage, and tucked me back under the blanket when I was done.

Then she sat by my side.

Not talking.
Just reading her notes.
Every few minutes, her palm would press to my forehead.
She would check the time, give me water, adjust the fan.

"I am not going anywhere tonight," she whispered when she saw me trying to speak.

And I didn't want her to.

Her presence was the medicine I hadn't known I needed.

That night, before I drifted into sleep again, I heard her hum softly. Maybe a lullaby. Maybe a song from one of her favorite movies.

And I thought to myself — in this tiny rented flat, in this shared life we are still learning to live...

I had never felt more loved.

Later...

The room was dark except for the soft yellow glow of the night lamp near the cupboard. The air was still, quiet  like even the world outside was holding its breath.

I opened my eyes slowly.
It must have been past midnight.

My body felt lighter. The fever had settled a little. My head didn't throb anymore. Only a slight ache remained, like a distant reminder that I had pushed too far.

I shifted slightly and felt a tug at my hand.

That's when I noticed her.

Kayal.

Asleep.

On the chair next to the bed, her head tilted to the side, one hand still wrapped around mine.

My breath caught.

Her fingers, loosely curled around mine, as if she had fallen asleep while still making sure I was there. As if some part of her was keeping guard even in sleep.

She was wearing her old blue night kurta, hair falling messily over her shoulder, cheeks a little puffy from sleep. There was a pen tucked behind her ear and an open notebook on her lap, a few scribbled lines trailing off at the bottom of the page.

She had been studying.
She had been holding my hand.
She had stayed awake beside me.

I don't know what hurt more — the fact that I hadn't asked her to do any of this, or the fact that she did it anyway.

For me.

I lifted my hand slowly, careful not to wake her, and brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. Her nose twitched slightly at the touch, but she didn't wake.

She looked so peaceful like this.

So young.

So quietly fierce.

I wondered, not for the first time, how someone like her — full of life and dreams and sharp words had made space in her heart for someone like me.

A broken boy who masked everything with laughter.

I sat up slowly, my muscles still aching, and just watched her.

I could see the imprint of tiredness under her eyes. She must have had a long day. Exams, stress, then coming home to this — to me, feverish and quiet.

And yet she had stayed.

Held my hand.

Kept vigil without being asked.

I tightened my fingers around hers gently. She stirred but didn't wake.

"Kayal ma..." I whispered, not to wake her but because the silence had grown too heavy.

"You never stop surprising me."

There was no answer, of course. Just the sound of her even breathing.

I shifted a little, picked up the notebook from her lap, and placed it on the table. Then I carefully slid my hand out of hers, lifted her legs one by one, and carried her bridal-style to the bed.

She half-woke, blinking in confusion.

"Hmm? Ezhil...?"

"Shh," I said softly, laying her gently down on the other side of the bed. "You'll hurt your neck sleeping like that."

"But you're—"

"I'm better. Don't worry."

She looked up at me sleepily, her voice barely a whisper. "You're warm..."

"I'm okay now," I murmured, pulling the blanket over her. "Because you took care of me."

Her fingers reached for mine again in the dark.

This time, I didn't hesitate.

I laced my fingers with hers and lay beside her, still facing her.

We didn't talk.
There was no grand confession.
No music, no metaphors.

Just the silence of two people quietly falling into something that neither of them wanted to name just yet.

But I knew.
Right then, in that moment.

I wouldn't let this girl go.
Not for anything in the world.

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