That night, Tejasswi sat by her window, replaying every word of their conversation in her mind. Karan’s bitterness, his anger, and the sadness he tried so hard to hide—she couldn’t shake any of it. She knew there was more to him than what he allowed others to see, and for reasons she couldn’t fully understand, she felt an almost unbearable need to get closer.

When she saw him the next day, standing by the same window in the library, she hesitated. She hadn’t expected him to be there, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he had come there for her.

“You’re here again?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe I’m just stubborn,” she replied with a small smile.

He shook his head, a faint smirk crossing his lips. “More than stubborn,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Persistent, too.”

They stood in silence for a while, the tension from the previous day replaced by something softer, something unspoken but unmistakably real. Karan seemed less guarded, as though he’d accepted that she wasn’t going to leave easily.

“Why don’t you trust people?” she asked, breaking the silence.

His face darkened, but he didn’t walk away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers clenched tightly. “Trust is dangerous,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I’ve let someone in, it’s ended badly. People… they only want what they can take from you. When there’s nothing left, they leave.”

Her heart ached at the sadness in his words, and she found herself reaching out, placing her hand gently over his. He tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

“Not everyone is like that, Karan,” she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. “Some people stay.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and something else she couldn’t quite place. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You have no idea what it’s like to be… this alone.”

“Then tell me,” she challenged, refusing to look away. “Show me.”

For a moment, he seemed to waver, his gaze locked onto hers. Slowly, he lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. The touch was light, almost hesitant, and yet it sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the warmth of his hand, the tension between them so thick it was almost suffocating.

But then he pulled away, his expression hardening once more. “Don’t get too close, Tejasswi,” he warned, his voice cold again. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, but she didn’t let it show. “Maybe I’m willing to find out,” she replied, her voice steady.

Karan’s eyes narrowed, a mixture of frustration and something almost like admiration flickering in his gaze. He seemed torn, as though part of him wanted to let her in, while the other half wanted to push her away.

Finally, he shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “You’re relentless,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone by the window. She watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest, a mixture of triumph and uncertainty filling her. She knew she was breaking through his defenses, little by little, and she was more determined than ever to see it through.

As she left the library, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She didn’t know where this journey would lead her, but she was ready to face whatever lay ahead. She wasn’t giving up on Karan—not now, not ever.