Sweet Secrets
They reached the class, slid into their seats just as the lecturer began. The usual rustle of books and murmurs fell into rhythm. He opened his notes but barely looked at them. His mind was still half in the corridor. Aanya sat beside him, quiet now. Not her usual scribbling self, not doodling flowers or writing sarcastic one-liners in the corner of the page. Just... still. He glanced sideways. Her eyes were on the board, but not really. That far-off gaze people have when they're trying not to think too hard. He didn't say anything at first. Didn't want to break it. But halfway through the lecture, while the professor rambled about bone tumours, she whispered— "Do you ever feel like… you're scared to be good at something because then people expect you to always be that good?" He bli
- Writer
