Marrying my Classmate

Chapter 8: The Weight of Words

The physics class dragged on like a broken clock. Sir Rahman's voice buzzed about momentum and energy, but all Rahat could think about was the weight of eyes on the back of his neck.

Three rows ahead, Roshni sat with her usual perfect posture, taking notes like nothing had changed. But he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she gripped her pen a little too tight.

When the bell rang, she didn't turn around. Didn't look at him. Just packed her books and walked out.

He followed, keeping his distance, but close enough to hear the whispers that trailed after her.

"I heard she ran away in the middle of the night."

"My sister said her mom was crying at the market yesterday."

"They're saying she's pregnant."

That last one made Rahat's stomach clench. He wanted to turn around and say something, but what? That they hadn't even kissed yet? That would make it worse.

In the hallway, Nayeema cornered Roshni again. This time, her voice wasn't quiet.

"Roshni, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking clearly," Roshni replied, but her voice sounded strained.

"Clearly? You married him." Nayeema gestured toward Rahat like he was a piece of furniture. "No offense, Rahat, but—"

"Then don't say it," Roshni cut her off.

Nayeema blinked. "I'm trying to help you. This is insane. Your parents are going crazy. They called the police."

Rahat felt the blood drain from his face. "Police?"

"They filed a missing person report yesterday evening," Nayeema continued, ignoring him. "They think you were kidnapped."

Roshni went very still. "What?"

"Your stepmom told everyone you'd never leave on your own. That someone must have... influenced you."

The word hung in the air like smoke.

Rahat felt sick. Around them, other students had slowed down, pretending to check their phones while listening.

"That's not—" he started.

"I know," Roshni said quickly. "I know what happened."

But her voice shook now. Just slightly.

Nayeema pressed on. "Look, I don't know what's going on between you two, but this isn't some romantic movie. You can't just run away and expect everything to work out."

"I didn't expect anything," Roshni said. "I just couldn't do what they wanted."

"So you did this instead?"

"Yes."

"With him?"

The way she said 'him' made Rahat want to disappear. Like he was the worst possible choice. Like anyone else would have been better.

And maybe that was true.

Roshni must have heard it too, because she stepped closer to Nayeema. "Yes. With him. Because he's the only person who didn't try to tell me what I should do."

Rahat's POV

The rest of the morning passed in a haze. Rahat sat through English class without hearing a word. During the break, he hid in the computer lab, pretending to work on some assignment that didn't exist.

But hiding didn't help. The whispers followed him everywhere.

"Did you hear about Rahat and Roshni?"

"I can't believe she chose him."

"My mom says his parents died when he was young. Maybe she feels sorry for him."

"Pity marriage. That's what this is."

That last comment came from Rafiq, who was eating chips near the window. His friends laughed.

Rahat's hands curled into fists.

"Something to say, husband boy?" Rafiq called out when he noticed Rahat staring.

"Leave it," Asif whispered, appearing beside Rahat. "He's just being an ass."

But Rahat was tired of leaving it. Tired of being the quiet one. The one people felt sorry for.

"Yeah," he said, standing up. "I do have something to say."

The computer lab went quiet.

Rafiq raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"

"She didn't marry me because of pity."

"No? Then what?"

Rahat's throat felt dry. Everyone was looking at him now. Even the teacher glanced over from his desk.

"Because..." he started, then stopped.

Why had she married him? Really?

Because she was desperate? Because he was convenient? Because he was the only one dumb enough to say yes?

The silence stretched too long. Rafiq smirked.

"That's what I thought," he said, turning back to his friends.

Rahat sat down heavily. Asif patted his shoulder, but it didn't help.

Maybe they were right. Maybe this was just pity. Or convenience. Or desperation.

Maybe he really was the last choice.

Lunch Break

Roshni found him sitting alone under the old banyan tree behind the school building. She'd been looking for him for twenty minutes.

"There you are," she said, settling down beside him on the concrete bench.

He didn't look at her. "Your friend thinks I kidn*pped you."

"Nayeema's dramatic. She'll get over it."

"Will she? Will any of them?"

Roshni was quiet for a moment. Then: "Does it matter?"

"Doesn't it?" He finally looked at her. "People think I trapped you. That you only married me because you felt sorry for me."

"Do you think that?"

"I..." He looked away again. "I don't know."

She studied his profile. The way his jaw tensed when he was upset. The way he hunched his shoulders like he was trying to make himself smaller.

"Rahat."

"Hmm?"

"Look at me."

He did, reluctantly.

"If I felt sorry for you, I would have given you money and left. If I was using you, I would have asked for something in return. If I was desperate, I would have picked someone with more to offer."

"Then why?"

The question came out quieter than he meant it to.

Roshni was quiet for a long moment. A group of younger students ran past, laughing about something. The lunch bell rang in the distance.

"Because," she said finally, "when I knocked on your door, you didn't ask me what I could give you. You asked me if I was okay."

He blinked.

"And when I told you I wanted to marry you, you didn't ask what was in it for you. You asked if I was sure."

"That's just..."

"What?"

"Normal?"

She smiled, but it was sad. "No, Rahat. It's not."

They sat in silence for a while. The sun was getting warmer, and Roshni could feel sweat starting to form on her back where her uniform stuck to the bench.

"My stepmom called the police," she said eventually.

He tensed. "Nayeema told me."

"They think you influenced me. Manipulated me."

"Maybe I did."

She turned to stare at him. "What?"

"I should have said no. Should have told you to go back home and work it out with your parents. Should have—"

"Shut up."

The sharpness in her voice surprised them both.

"Just... shut up," she said again, softer this time. "You think I didn't have other options? You think I couldn't have gone to a relative's house? Or a friend's? Or even a women's shelter?"

He hadn't thought about that.

"I came to you because I wanted to. And I married you because I wanted to." She paused. "Even if I can't explain why yet."

After School

They walked home together, but not side by side. Roshni walked a few steps ahead, and Rahat followed, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

The apartment felt smaller when they got back. Stuffier. Like the walls had moved closer together while they were gone.

Roshni dropped her bag by the door and sat on the bed. Rahat hesitated, then sat on the single chair by his desk.

"We need to talk about the police thing," she said.

"Yeah."

"They might come here. Ask questions."

"What do we tell them?"

"The truth. That we got married legally. That I'm an adult who made her own choice."

"And if they don't believe us?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Then we deal with it when it happens."

Rahat nodded, but his stomach was still twisted in knots.

"Rahat?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sorry? That you said yes?"

The question hung between them like a challenge.

He looked at her sitting on their bed—their bed—in their tiny, broken apartment. Her school uniform was wrinkled, her hair was coming loose from its ponytail, and she looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

But she was there. She had chosen to be there.

"No," he said finally. "I'm not sorry."

"Good," she said. "Because neither am I."

And maybe that was enough for now.