CHAPTER 5: The Second Semester

 AGNI’S POV

Second semester had started, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was nearly done with the research papers required to work at IGRO. Finally, I’d say goodbye to this infernal teaching job and do something in the field of physics… something real. But that would also mean saying goodbye to the university itself—its beautiful halls, the gorgeous laboratories where I had painstakingly done and redone experiments, the classrooms, the cafeteria where I spent lunchtimes with Sameer, Neer, Pruthvi, and… Antariksh.

I didn’t think much about that yet. I was still stuck here.

Walking toward the cafeteria with Sameer and Neer by my side, I spotted an unruly mop of purple hair and laser glasses. Pruthvi noticed us first and yelled, “HELLO!” waving frantically. Antariksh looked up and waved as well, but as I got closer, I noticed something off.

I frowned.

Her movements had always been awkward, but they had a natural fluidity to them. Now, as she lifted her hand in greeting, something wasn’t right. The way her fingers curled—too smooth. Too controlled. Not human.

My gaze traveled lower. That’s when I saw it. Her entire arm was mechanical. The metal plating gleamed under the cafeteria lights, the joints far too precise to be natural. Cyborg enhancements. And when she shifted in her seat, I caught a glimpse of her left leg—also mechanical.

I stopped walking.

Sameer and Neer, still beside me, hadn’t noticed yet. But the slow realization settled like lead in my chest. Sameer finally caught on. “Wait… holy crap… your arm! Antariksh?!” Neer blinked. “And your leg?” "Did you have an accident?" I asked her.

“Oh, it’s no big deal!” She grinned and shrugged. “Dr. Sanki swapped my arm and leg for cyborg ones! I didn’t get into an accident!”

Silence.

Sameer let out a low whistle. “Damn, Atom. That’s… something.”

Neer frowned. “Wait. So you didn’t lose your arm and leg in an accident? He just—decided to replace them?”

Antariksh waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry, he sent a letter to the university director. Said I had an accident. So it’s all good!”

A heavy pause.

I stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. Sanki swapped them out. Just like that. Without an emergency. Without permission. Just because he could.

Neer exhaled sharply. “And you’re really okay with that?” Antariksh blinked at him. “Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” “Because he replaced your limbs like he was changing batteries,” Neer said, his voice sharper than usual. “That’s not exactly normal, Antariksh.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, guys. It’s not that deep. Look—” She lifted her cyborg hand and flexed her fingers. The motion was eerily smooth. Too precise. “It works perfectly fine. No pain, no problems. If anything, I’m better now.”

I watched her carefully. "No problems." Yet.

Sameer forced a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if you start punching through walls, let me know. Could be useful.”

Antariksh laughed. “Actually, I can… but I’m not trying it on the university walls!”

Neer still looked unconvinced. I didn’t say anything. But my mind was already calculating.

Sanki had done this to her. Himself.
It wasn’t a regulated procedure.
And if it wasn’t regulated… what else was wrong with it?

I didn’t voice any of this, though. What was the point? She clearly wasn’t worried. If anything, she looked proud of it. So I just nodded and said, “Right.”

—---------

ANTARIKSH’S POV

The second semester started off with a bang, and I felt ready.

Both Pruthvi and I had underperformed in the first-semester finals. Her score had dropped from 97% to 89%, and mine had plummeted from 93% to 78%.

But I felt better being back at Astralis. There was something about being here that made everything feel possible again. The labs, the lectures, the buzz of students everywhere—it reminded me why I wanted to be here in the first place. Maybe this year I’d be able to study better, manage my time more effectively, and keep up with my grades. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I had a plan. I’d stick to it.

There were a few more nerves—okay, a lot of nerves—about whether I could actually pull it off, but... it was starting to feel like it could be done. Maybe this semester would be different.

But then, there was FAEAU.

The Final Assessment Exam. It wasn’t just another exam. It was the exam that would determine whether we got to stay at Astralis University or had to leave. It was the deciding factor—whether you’d be considered good enough to remain or whether you’d be sent home. As much as I wanted to stay positive, the weight of that exam was already sinking in. It wasn’t just my grades I had to worry about. It was my future here. I couldn’t afford another setback. If I didn’t do well, I might not be able to stay. And I wasn’t sure what I’d do if that happened.

“I’m signing up for all the remedials,” I informed Pruthvi sometime in the third week of the second semester.

“Really? All of them?” She raised an eyebrow. “They might overlap, you know. And you seem to be doing fine in chemistry. I think Sameer will send you back.”

I felt a sudden pang of uncertainty, but I brushed it off quickly. Sameer was always the optimist, the one who believed I could push through without needing the extra help. But I wasn’t taking any chances. “I don’t care if they overlap,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “If I can get through them and ace the FAEAU, I’ll do whatever it takes. I need to make sure I don’t fall behind.” 

Pruthvi stared at me for a moment, her lips pressed together as if she was about to say something, but then she just nodded. “Alright! If you think it’ll help, but... we might get to hang out less.” I winced at that. I hated the thought of not spending as much time with her, but it was my decision to make. “I know… I’m sorry,” I said. “You could join the remedials too, but I’m pretty sure they’ll send you back from all of them...”

I watched her face for a reaction, but she just shrugged.

“See, you’re doing fine,” I added quickly. “Awesome, actually... I’m not as smart as you. It’s easy for you to stay afloat.”

Pruthvi frowned. “That’s not exactly true... I mean, I have to work hard too, but it’s about being optimistic and not always bracing ourselves for the worst.” Her tone shifted, and she sounded like a mother. “You know, you always accept defeat in the beginning and mess everything up by being scared.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay... whatever. Save me the lecture, will ya?”

She did annoy me sometimes.

—--------

PRUTHVI’S POV

I felt kind of bad for Antariksh. She was smart... So why couldn’t she score?

Maybe it was her insecurity. Maybe it was the way she always belittled herself, always complaining. Especially since we came to Astralis. I didn’t mind at first, but... it was tiring always having to be the optimistic one. It was just that we’d stopped having fun together. Stopped being silly.

Now, it felt like I was always trying to drag her out of a hole, trying to force the fun back in. She was always in that "depresso espresso" mood, while I felt like I was doing everything I could just to get a real smile out of her.

It was like pulling teeth, and honestly, it was exhausting. I missed the old us. The us that could goof off, joke around, and get into harmless trouble without a care in the world. The us that didn’t need a constant reminder that things were tough. But every time I tried to lighten the mood, she would shut it down.

I could see her shrinking further every day. Her smiles were less frequent, her eyes more distant. It was as if she didn’t want to be helped. She didn’t want to get better. And somehow, that made me feel like I was the one in the wrong for wanting her to snap out of it.

I used to understand. I used to care so much. But lately, I was starting to feel like I was being asked to carry both of us—and I was tired. Maybe if she’d just let go, even for a little while... if she’d let me in again...

But it felt like I was walking on eggshells, and every time I tried to crack a joke or make her laugh, she would brush me off, bury herself further in her thoughts.

I didn’t like saying that she was becoming “boring.” It sounded almost stupid and childish to say, but... that was how she was acting. As if she just wasn’t interested anymore. In anything. In us. In the things we used to do.

I missed the old Antariksh—the one who would laugh at my dumb jokes, who would roll her eyes and pull me into ridiculous schemes. The one who wasn’t afraid to be silly, who would joke about the impossible and make it sound so real.

Now, she was just... quiet.

And I hated that she was like this. I hated how empty everything felt when she didn’t engage, when she didn’t respond. The silence between us stretched further with every passing day, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending that everything was fine.

But it was fine… It was a rough patch, and hopefully, it would subside. In the meantime, I still hung out with Sameer.

That is... until we got the news.

Professor Garud had fallen seriously ill sometime in the third month. Sameer and Neer left in a hurry to be by his side, and we were left with replacement professors for the time being. It felt like everything changed in an instant. Sameer was always the first one to make light of things, but now, with him gone, there was this strange emptiness around campus. The usual energy from the science building felt quieter, and the halls, once buzzing with voices, seemed a little more... empty.

—-------

AGNI’S POV

With Sameer and Neer gone, substitute teachers were brought in to fill the gaps. I was kind of surprised when they asked me to cover first and second-year math. At first, I felt… honored, even proud. I mean, I was trusted with shaping young minds in a subject that was fundamental to everything. That had to mean something, right?

But that feeling lasted a grand total of two days before I realized the true horror of what I had signed up for. Math is an annoying subject to teach. Especially to raw first and second-year students who still had no grasp of logical reasoning and expected formulas to just magically solve everything.

The first-years were the worst. I would spend half a lecture explaining a concept, only for some overconfident idiot in the back to ask, “Sir, can we just use a calculator for this?”

And don’t even get me started on the second-years—students who should have some level of mathematical intuition by now but instead acted like I was speaking an alien language whenever I mentioned integrals.

By the end of the first week, my patience was already hanging by a thread.

I had research papers to write. My own physics notes to make. And then there was this stupid responsibility I had taken up for teaching math. I regretted it every day.

I was walking to the cafeteria, dreading lunch ahead. I could be using this time to do something productive, but it had become a habit to have lunch with Pruthvi and Antariksh—even if Sameer and Neer weren’t around anymore. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with them. It was just that… conversations were awkward now. Pruthvi, Sameer and Neer carried most of the discussion. Sameer’s jokes. Neer’s blunt sarcasm. The constant teasing, the arguments about science theories that led nowhere—it was entertaining.

But now?

Now it was just Pruthvi trying to engage us in conversation, Antariksh stuttering through half her sentences, and me getting bored.

However, today, Pruthvi was sitting alone. I raised an eyebrow, slowing my steps as I approached the table. “She’s preparing for remedial classes,” Pruthvi sighed before I could even ask. She barely looked up, her fingers idly playing with her food. Disinterested.

I sat down opposite her, signaling a servobot for my usual order. “You don’t look very happy about it.” “Eh, it’s fine, I guess...” she shrugged.

Pruthvi was opinionated about everything—good grades, bad grades, professors she hated, professors she loved, even the best route to take to class based on traffic patterns. But now? She just sounded... tired.

I leaned back, watching her push rice around with her fork. “Huh,” I muttered. She sighed. “What?” “You’re never this quiet.”

She huffed, finally stabbing a piece of food and eating it. “I just... don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

I watched her for a second.

She looked frustrated, but not at me. At something else. Something she didn’t want to say.

“Hmm…” I said after a pause, stretching my arms behind my head. “Do you want to come help me in my research? I need to take some values.”

She blinked at me, caught off guard.

I shrugged. “Might as well do something useful instead of sulking over food.”

Pruthvi rolled her eyes but snorted. “Wow. Thanks, Agni. You really have a way with words.”

“Not my fault you’re bad at hiding whatever’s eating at you.”

She shook her head, finally taking a real bite of food. “Fine. But I’m not doing all the work.”

Her lips twitched, just a little.

We grabbed our trays of food and used a teleport to head straight to the lab.

The place was dimly lit, quiet, and smelled faintly of burnt circuits and metal dust—just how I liked it. I pulled out my equipment, setting up the interface while Pruthvi sat on the edge of a desk, eating her food and watching. I worked in silence, calibrating the data node, tweaking a few input values. Photon stabilization was a pain in the ass, and I had little patience for bad readings. But today, my mind wasn’t entirely on the work.

Pruthvi was still quieter than usual. I adjusted one of the dials and muttered, “You’re gonna space out all day, or are you actually gonna help?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

I pointed at the display. “Read me the output variance.”

She sighed, setting down her tray. “Fine, fine…” She leaned forward, squinting at the numbers. “Uh… 0.0037?”

I frowned. “That’s way too high.” I grabbed the interface and checked again.

Pruthvi groaned, tilting her head back. “You’re so picky.”

“No, I just don’t like errors.”

“That’s the same thing.”

I smirked. “You sound like Antariksh.”

Her expression darkened—just for a second—but I caught it.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

She huffed, tapping her fingers against the desk. “It’s just—” She hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “She’s exhausting sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah… she kinda is,” I shrugged. Pruthvi blinked, like she wasn’t expecting me to agree so easily.

“She’s always so depressed and pessimistic all the time… complaining while I have to be the one trying to pick her up.” Her voice turned bitter, her fingers tightening into a fist on the desk. “I mean… I’m exhausted as well. It’s not just her.”

I didn’t say anything, letting her keep talking.

“She acts like she’s the only one who’s struggling,” Pruthvi muttered, shaking her head. “Like I don’t have pressure, like I don’t have my own problems. It’s like… I have to carry her through everything, and she doesn’t even realize it.”

Her voice had gone tight, her breathing shallow. I set down my tools. “So stop carrying her.” She looked up sharply. “You think it’s that easy?” “Yeah.” I leaned back against the desk. “You’re making it sound like a full-time job. Just quit.” Pruthvi let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “It’s not that simple, Agni.”

“Sure it is.” I held up a hand. “Option one: keep exhausting yourself over someone who isn’t even asking for it. Option two: stop.” She stared at me, her jaw clenched like she wanted to argue—but couldn’t.

I could tell she had thought about it before. Maybe not in those exact words, but the idea of pulling away from Antariksh had already been sitting somewhere deep in her mind.

I just said it out loud.

Pruthvi exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. “…It’s not that I don’t care.”

“Didn’t say you didn’t.” I turned back to my work. “But at some point, you gotta ask yourself—are you actually helping, or are you just burning yourself out?”

------------

ANTARIKSH’S POV

I reached the cafeteria a little late, but Pruthvi wasn’t there.That was weird. She was always here. Even if she finished early, she’d still hang around, scrolling through her tablet or waiting for me like she always did. I pulled out my communicator and called her. Switched off. My stomach twisted. Where was this idiot?

I hurried across campus, checking the library, the student lounge—even outside near the gardens where she liked to sit sometimes. No sign of her. 10 minutes left for math class. I still hadn’t eaten.

I frowned, frustration creeping in. I typed out a quick message:

Me: Pruthvi?? Where r u?

No response.

7 minutes left. I exhaled sharply, gripping my bag strap as I turned toward the lecture halls. Maybe she was already there. I skipped the food. I had to lose weight anyways i was becoming fat and ugly. If pruthvi was there she would've nagged me to eat something. But i rushed to the lecture hall. I needed to get ready. I chose the first row, usual spot for pruthvi and me. 5 minutes left. Why didn't she come yet?! 

I tapped my fingers against the desk, trying to push away the unease curling in my stomach. Then—whack. A sharp smack against the back of my head. I turned around, already scowling, and my heart plummeted.

Jwala.

Her signature smug grin was already in place, her eyes glowing with barely contained amusement. She spoke with a usual drawl, crafting the insult in such a way I couldn't make out if she was being mean or nice for a second.

“Hey…is your hair always this attractive or only today?’, she began. “Cuz it looks like the crow that lives in your head started a family!” Her cronies howled in laughter. Geez….they seemed to have a really lame sense of humour.  “Looks like Pruthvi totally forgot about you”, jwala chuckled.

“What?”, I actually smiled in disbelief. Jwala was trying to find cracks in our friendship? *scoff* I was 101 percent sure Pruthvi and I had a highly cemented bond. 

“Oh yeah…”, Jwala  glared at me and then bent dangerously close. “She was hanging out with agni in their lab”

“Uhuh”, I nodded. That didn't bother me at all. Pruthvi would totally invite me or message me if she hung out with him. She wouldn't miss any opportunity to see me get all awkward in his presence.

And then I saw them. Walking inside. TOGETHER. They were laughing. One of the rare times I had seen Agni laugh. I couldn't explain why, but my stomach twisted. The sight of them—so at ease with each other, sharing some inside joke I wasn’t part of—made me feel like I had missed something important.

Agni walked toward the podium, still looking mildly amused. Pruthvi, still smiling, spotted me and headed toward our usual spot, sliding into her seat like nothing had changed.

"Where were you?" I asked, my voice coming out more strained than I intended.

“Oh, I was just hanging out with Agni in his laboratory,” she shrugged, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I blinked. That’s it? No Hey, you should’ve joined! No Next time, let’s all go together! Not even a Sorry I didn’t text you.

I could feel the words rising up in my throat before I could stop them. “Why didn’t you t—” But before I could finish, Agni started the class. His voice cut through the room, sharp and commanding, immediately shifting the energy.

And just like that, I was forced to sit in silence.

“Alright… test results,” Agni said, tapping the stack of papers on his desk with an air of unimpressed authority. I sat up a little straighter, my heart pounding.“All of you have underperformed,” he continued, tone clipped and disapproving. A hush fell over the class.

I swallowed hard, already dreading what was coming next. “…And some of you…” His eyes flickered toward me, and for a split second, I felt pinned to my seat. “…Have completely bent the curve of the class average.”

My stomach dropped.

A few students chuckled nervously. Others stiffened in their seats.

Agni didn’t even blink before he delivered the final blow.

“Twenty-three students,” he said, voice dripping with cold disappointment, “have managed to prove that even Astralis University—with all of its advanced resources, world-class faculty, and cutting-edge learning programs—can only assist them in achieving a single-digit percent.”

The room erupted into murmurs. The sharp, knowing glance from Jwala, who was watching me like a cat that had cornered a mouse. Heat crawled up my neck. I wanted to shrink. Disappear.

Maybe Pruthvi would nudge me, whisper something sarcastic to break the tension, remind me that Agni was just a jerk who liked humiliating people—But she didn’t. She just sat there. Quiet.

“The highest score… 50 percent.”

I barely had time to process the shock before Agni continued, voice dripping with disappointment.

“Class average… 33 percent.”

He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as if this was the greatest failure of his career.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Tch tch tch,” he clicked his tongue, as if the entire class had personally offended him.

I felt the tension shift—students shifting in their seats, quiet whispers, a few nervous chuckles.

And then—

“Students whose names I call out, please stay back after class.”

My heartbeat sped up.

“Dharitri.” Not me. Not me. Please not me. “Paavak.” Okay. Maybe I’m safe. “…Antariksh.” Oh crap. I froze. I could feel it. All eyes on me. A few students turned in their seats to get a look, some murmured under their breath. I swallowed, staring straight ahead, pretending I couldn’t feel Jwala’s satisfied smirk burning into the side of my face.

Oh god. This is humiliating. I risked a glance at Pruthvi. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t even react. 

He called out twenty more students, then turned to the screen and began teaching like nothing had happened. I slumped in my seat, exhaling sharply. My face still burned with humiliation, but I tried to laugh it off. I turned to Pruthvi, nudging her lightly. “Oh god, can you believe it?! I got a single-digit percentage!”

I expected her to roll her eyes and smirk, to say something sarcastic like, "At least you didn’t get a negative." I expected her to laugh with me. Instead—

"Mhmm… you gotta work hard." The words were flat. Emotionless. Like she was just saying them to say something. I blinked. I stared at her, waiting for the joke, the teasing, the usual Pruthvi reaction. It never came. She was already scribbling in her notebook, not even looking at me. The air around me felt… off. Something was wrong.

Towards the end of the class, Agni distributed the answer sheets, each one landing on desks like a death sentence. I hesitated before flipping mine over. 7 percent. My throat tightened. Great. I glanced at Pruthvi’s paper instead. 50 percent. I immediately perked up. "Woah, that’s awe—"

"Oh my gosh, Pruthvi! You got the highest?!" Jwala’s voice cut through mine, sharp and excited, like she had been waiting for this moment. Pruthvi turned to her, smiling easily. “Yeah… low score, but highest in class,” she chuckled.

Jwala laughed, flipping her own sheet around. 45 percent. Pruthvi giggled. “Wow, not bad yourself!” I sat there, staring at them. I hadn’t even finished my sentence.

"Hey, lis—" I tried again, forcing my voice to sound normal, to pretend like nothing felt off. But this time, she cut in, herself. "Antariksh, hold on one sec. I just gotta tell Agni something—he might leave." I nodded automatically, my words dying in my throat.

I watched as she turned away from me completely, cupping her hands around her mouth and YELLING across the classroom—which was now emptying out. "HEY! You need to tell them who got the highest score!" she called out, her voice bright, teasing, playful.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he laughed.

Agni.

Agni laughed.

I felt something inside me twist. "Don’t get too cocky, Pruthvi!" he shot back, shaking his head as he gathered his things. "I was implying that it was a bad score even if it was the highest!" The easy back-and-forth banter. The fact that she sought him out. The fact that he actually responded.

It was all wrong.

Not wrong in a way that I could explain. Not wrong in a way that I could even be mad at.

But just… wrong in a way that made me feel smaller.

Like I was standing at the edge of something, watching it slip further away.

I swallowed down the feeling, gripping my test paper so hard that the edges crumpled in my fists.

Could this day get any worse?!

Agni cleared his throat. The kind of throat-clear that wasn’t just a sound—it was a warning. “So…” he began, his tone leisurely, almost amused—like he was about to deliver a speech about how stupid we all were and was thoroughly looking forward to it.

I swallowed hard.

I could feel the collective dread settling over the group, the weight of twenty-three miserable souls waiting for execution. Agni leaned against the podium, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over us like we were an absolute disgrace. “Single-digit percentages,” he said, as if the very phrase physically pained him. “A truly remarkable achievement.”

No one dared to speak.

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Tell me—” he continued, tilting his head slightly—“at what point during the test did you all collectively decide to abandon basic intelligence?”

A few students shuffled uncomfortably. Someone let out a nervous cough. I gritted my teeth. Was this necessary?! I stared at the ground, willing myself to disappear into my seat.

Agni scoffed. “Right. Silence. That’s all you’re capable of, apparently.”

I clenched my fists. This was humiliating. I never thought I'd be scolded like this…ever. I was not used to disappointing people. 

“You will all mandatorily take remedial classes,” he continued, his voice bored and exasperated at the same time. “Some of you have been lazy enough to not even sign up for them.”

I had signed up. Thankfully.

That should have been the end of it.

But then—"And Antariksh…" My entire body stiffened.I felt my throat tighten as every pair  of eyes seemed to snap toward me. Agni’s tone wasn’t mocking or sarcastic this time. It wasn’t cruel. It was worse. Disappointed.

"I don’t know why you are slipping," he said, his voice almost tired. "Please… put in some work." And just like that, he turned on his heel and left. The silence that followed was suffocating. I stared down at my crumpled test paper, my fingers still curled tightly around the edges.

I could hear the whispers starting. Feel the side glances. But all I could focus on was the weight of his words, looping in my head over and over.

"I don’t know why you are slipping."

I didn’t either.

—------

PRUTHVI’S POV

The first two months had been horrible. The mounting tension of FAEAU. The looming science fest. And then… there was Antariksh. She had flat-out said she wasn’t even going to try for the selections this time.

I didn’t get it. She loved science fairs. She loved the challenge, the thrill, the competition. But now? She just… didn’t care. Fine. Whatever. I still cared. So I signed up anyway. Maybe I’d get selected. Maybe I wouldn’t. Either way, at least I was doing something.

Agni was the one collecting the forms—something Sameer would normally do. I walked up and handed mine over.

"Hey… you’re signing up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where’s Antariksh?"

"She isn’t signing up," I muttered. "She’d rather focus on her grades."

Agni chuckled. “She better!”

I let out a half-hearted laugh, but it sounded flat, even to me. "Yeah…" I said, feeling the weight of it.

Agni studied me for a second. "So… she’s still ignoring you, huh?" he asked, almost carefully.

I hesitated. Then, before I could stop myself, I blurted out the truth. "Well… it’s slowly becoming the other way around, honestly…" The words felt ugly coming out. But they were true. "I don’t like being with her anymore, anyway." There. I said it.

I expected Agni to judge me. To say something sarcastic or cold. Instead, he just sighed."Pruthvi, I’m not telling you to ignore her." His voice was calm, level. "You just have to  listen to her vent. That’s it. All I said was, you don’t have to jump in and try to say supportive things if you can’t."

I stared at him. I hated how reasonable he sounded."Yeah, whatever," I muttered, grabbing  the form and sitting down to fill it out. I was fed up. Antariksh was angering me. But I didn’t say anything. Because if I did, I might say something I couldn’t take back.

While I was signing up I heard someone beside me,”hey” , a familiar voice but it seemed to be missing the cold drawl and sneer that generally accompanied it. It was jwala. “You signing up for the fest?”, she asked. “Yeah”, I said...my voice still sounded heavy. 

Jwala filled out her form in silence for a moment before glancing at me.

"Something bothering you?" she asked, her tone casual. Not prying, not mocking. Just… asking.

I hesitated. Was it that obvious? "Nothing important," I muttered, focusing on my form.

Jwala hummed. She didn’t push. Instead, she tapped her pen against the desk, looking thoughtful. "Hey, you wanna sign up together?"

I blinked. "What?"

"For the fest." She gestured to the forms in our hands. "We can enter as a team, work on a single idea together."

I hesitated again. Jwala and I weren’t friends. Not really. But… Antariksh wasn’t signing up. And I didn’t want to do this alone. "Yeah," I said finally, scribbling my name down. "Let’s do it." Jwala grinned. "Cool."

Evenings were usually boring. Antariksh had remedial classes, which meant I was left to mope around alone, scrolling through my tablet or aimlessly walking around campus. But today was different. Today, I was with Jwala.

We sat outside near the student lounge, a couple of datapads between us as we bounced ideas back and forth for the science fest. "I was thinking of something related to alternative energy sources," Jwala said, tapping at her screen. "Something different. Something that isn’t just another ‘how do we make fuel more efficient’ project."

"I like that," I admitted. "Maybe something with kinetic energy absorption?"

Jwala’s eyes lit up. "Exactly what I was thinking!"

For the first time in weeks, I felt excited about something. It was nice. It was easy. There were no strained conversations, no forced optimism, no awkward silences.

Then, at some point, the conversation shifted.

"So…" Jwala leaned back against the bench, stretching her arms. "Are you and Antariksh fighting or something?" 

I stiffened. "No. Not really."

Jwala gave me a look. "You sure? ‘Cause it kinda seems like you’re done with her."

I exhaled through my nose, staring at my datapad. "She’s just… exhausting sometimes."

Jwala scoffed. "Sometimes?"

I shot her a small glare, but it was half-hearted at best. She smirked. "Come on, Pruthvi. You know it’s true. She’s always a nervous freak about everything. It’s like talking to a live wire—one wrong move and she short-circuits."

I frowned.

"That’s a little—" I trailed off. Because… was she wrong?

Jwala watched me, waiting to see if I’d defend Antariksh. I should’ve. But instead, I just sighed. "Yeah." I muttered. "I guess."

For the first time in weeks, I actually had fun. Jwala and I spent the rest of the evening discussing our project, tossing ideas back and forth without any tension or awkwardness. It felt… easy. And when she suggested we grab dinner together, I didn’t hesitate.

So we went to the cafeteria. And it was fun. Jwala was surprisingly funny, in a sarcastic, sharp-tongued way. She mocked Agni’s dramatic sighs and ranted about the awful substitute chemistry teacher. And I laughed. Really laughed. I hadn’t even realized how much I missed feeling this light.

Later, when I finally returned to my dorm, my stomach was full and my mind felt clearer than it had in days. Then, I opened the door— And froze.

Antariksh was sitting on her bed, waiting. She perked up immediately when she saw me.

“Lets go have dinner-”, she began.

“Actually….i'm kinda not hungry today”, i said.

"Not hungry?" Antariksh asked, frowning slightly.

"Yeah. Had a big lunch," I said, looking away too quickly, pretending to check something on my datapad. I expected her to drop it. But she didn’t.

She stood there for a moment, and then—"Are you alright?"

I paused. Her voice was softer now—less confused, more… concerned. I forced a small laugh. "What? Yeah, of course."

"You just seem…" She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should say it. "I don’t know. Off."

I tensed slightly. "I’m fine, Antariksh," I said, keeping my tone light. "Just tired."

She didn’t look convinced. "Are you sure?"

God. Why was she pressing this? "Yeah, I just said I was fine," I muttered, more defensively than I meant to.

She blinked at me, taken aback.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Look, I just had a long day, okay? Can we not do this right now?"

Antariksh shifted on her feet, then gave a small nod. "Okay," she said, but there was something uncertain in her voice. She sat back down on her bed, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve.

I turned back to my datapad, but I could still feel her watching me. Still waiting for something.

ANTARIKSH’S POV

We were sitting in chemistry class, waiting for the substitute to arrive. Pruthvi was animatedly telling me a story—something about a distant cousin, some far-off relative, and… a chicken, I think? I wasn’t sure. Something was wrong with me.

Over the past few days, I had been randomly phasing out. Not just during lectures. Not just while studying. But now—while Pruthvi was talking. And it’s not like I didn’t want to listen. I just… couldn’t. It felt like my brain had blank periods. Moments of… nothingness. Like my mind would just disconnect, and by the time I snapped back, I had missed something important.

And right now?

Right now, Pruthvi was still talking, laughing at something she said— And I had no idea what it was. I forced a laugh…realising she was laughing. But she caught it. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you even listening to me Antariksh?!”

.The tone in her voice hit me like a cold wave.

I froze for a second, my stomach sinking.

I was listening—at least, I wanted to be. But I couldn’t remember what she was saying anymore. What was she talking about? The chicken? The cousin?

I blinked, trying to catch up. "Yeah... yeah, of course I am," I stammered, forcing a smile, but it felt off.

Her expression was unconvinced, and there was a slight crease in her brow. "Really?" she asked, voice cool. "Cause it sure doesn’t seem like it."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words got stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth. I hated this. I hated that she could see I was slipping away, but I didn’t know how to explain. I didn’t know how to explain that I was starting to lose time. That I was losing control.

I tried to explain myself. "I swear, Pruthvi, I was listening, it’s just—" But before I could finish, the substitute teacher walked in, and class immediately started. I bit my lip, trying to keep the awkward silence from swallowing me whole. Pruthvi didn’t look at me again the rest of the period. Her eyes were glued to her notes, like I wasn’t even there.

The entire day passed, and we didn’t speak again.I tried to focus during my remedial classes, but my thoughts kept circling back to her—the frustration on her face, the way she called me out. Was I really that bad?

—---------

PRUTHVI’S POV

I was working with Jwala, and honestly? It was fun. She was actually really smart. Mean… but smart. We walked down the corridor, our datapads in hand, while she made some nasty remarks about our substitute chemistry teacher. Funny, but nasty.

“Hey!” I tried to sound disapproving, but I couldn’t stop giggling. “Don’t be mean!”

Jwala turned to me, still laughing, herself. “Oh, come on… loosen up! It’s not like I’m saying it to her face.”

I shook my head, rolling my eyes, but I was still smiling. It was easy with Jwala. Effortless. No emotional weight, no constant need to fix things—just laughter and conversation. And for the first time in a while, I felt light.

“You wanna hang out in the lunch break together?”, she asked me. “We can discuss the project”

“Hmm…sure…although I was gonna hang out with antariksh”, I shrugged.

“You really are her full-time babysitter, huh?” Jwala teased, nudging me playfully.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, shut up. She’s my friend.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” she said, still grinning. “I’m just saying, don’t you ever get tired? I mean, does she ever leave your side?”

I hesitated for a second before shaking my head. “Look, I was gonna meet her for lunch anyway. She can just tag along, right? Even if she’s not in the project?”

Jwala tilted her head, her grin fading slightly. “I mean, sure, but won’t that just be… awkward?” She leaned in a little, lowering her voice like she was letting me in on some secret truth. “We’ll be talking about the project the whole time. She’s not even part of it. What’s she gonna do, just sit there and stare at us?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I hesitated. Would Antariksh even care about the project discussion? Lately, she had been so lost in her own world. And honestly… maybe it’d be easier this way.

Jwala must’ve noticed my uncertainty because she shrugged. “It’s just one lunch, Pruthvi. You can always meet her later, right?”

I sighed, pulling out my communicator. Hey, Antariksh. Can’t make it for lunch today, gonna be working on the project. I stared at the message for a second before hitting send.

Jwala peeked over my shoulder and smirked. “See? Easy.”

AGNI’S POV

I have always been a very frustrated person.

It doesn’t take much to get on my nerves. And I should’ve known this before deciding to teach math.

IT WAS DRIVING ME CRAZY.

Never in my life had I imagined myself stuck in a classroom, explaining the same concepts over and over again to students who just weren’t getting it. Yet, here I was. And with my patience wearing thinner by the day, plenty of students had already fallen victim to my cold, sarcastic remarks.

But one day—one particularly exhausting, soul-crushing day—I snapped. And I yelled. One of my most regrettable actions.

After three back-to-back classes—two physics, one math—I had to take remedial sessions as well. Sigh. I could feel a headache forming. The stack of test papers in front of me didn’t help. Each wrong answer, each careless mistake, each proof of failure—not just on their part, but mine—made my frustration claw higher. I was a scientist. A researcher. I wasn’t meant to be a teacher.

And yet, here I was. And I was about to lose it.

The remedial classroom was half-full by the time I arrived, papers still in hand, headache still raging. The students looked exhausted, either from failing their tests or from simply existing. I was exhausted too.

I set the stack of test papers on the desk with a little more force than necessary. "Alright. Let’s get this over with." A few students straightened in their seats. Others kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact. 

"Most of you are here because you refuse to use your brain cells properly," I started, rubbing my temple. "Or maybe because you think staring at a problem long enough will magically solve it for you. I regret to inform you—it won’t."

A few students chuckled nervously. Others shifted uncomfortably. I picked up a piece of chalk and started writing on the board. "Let’s try something easy. Integration."

Groans. A deep sigh from the back. Someone muttered, "Oh, great," under their breath. I ignored them. "You." I pointed at one of the students slouched over his desk.Paavak. A perpetual underperformer. "Come up and solve this."

He dragged himself to the board, picked up a screenpen, and stared at the equation like it was written in an alien language. The silence stretched. I waited. I sighed. "What are you waiting for? Divine intervention?"

Some nervous laughter. "Uh, I think… you can split the function, right?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Oh? You think? That’s reassuring."

Another awkward silence. I exhaled, turning to the rest of the class. "Does anyone else want to rescue their classmate from public embarrassment, or are we collectively agreeing to waste more of my time?"

No one spoke.

I turned to her. "Antariksh." She had been sitting there quietly, hunched over her desk, scribbling something in her notebook. Probably notes. Probably nonsense.

She looked up, startled. "Huh?" 

I narrowed my eyes. "Since you seem so occupied, I assume you already know the answer."

Her fingers curled slightly around her pen. "Uh… I—"

"Come up and solve it," I interrupted.

She hesitated. Then, slowly, she stood, pushing her chair back with a faint scrape. Her movements were stiff, unsure.

Antariksh stepped up to the board, gripping the screenpen too tightly, like it might slip from her grasp at any moment. I folded my arms, watching her every move. The silence in the room felt heavier now.

A long pause. She was trembling. Not just her hands, but her entire body. Her shoulders shook with each hesitant breath she took. She was visibly terrified. I stood still, waiting for her to begin. But she was frozen. The tension thickened. The more I watched, the more her fear seemed to grow, as if my gaze alone was enough to make her feel smaller.

I exhaled sharply. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to solve the problem?" Her eyes flickered nervously toward the board, her pen wavering in her hand. “Are you serious?” I asked, my voice sharp, barely holding my frustration in check. “You’re not even trying, Antariksh. You’re smarter than this. I know you are. So why can’t you focus?”

She shifted uneasily, but didn’t respond. I was losing my patience.

“Do you even care anymore?” I shot at her, stepping forward. “If you can’t even solve this simple problem, what makes you think you’re going to pass the FAEAU?!”Her eyes flickered up, a brief flash of panic crossing her face. I couldn’t stop myself anymore. “Honestly, I don’t even know why you’re here. You’re wasting my time and yours. If you’re not going to put in the effort, why should I keep dragging you through this?”

I could see her hands shaking now, her body stiff with anxiety. Her cyborg-enhanced hand twitched, and the pen slipped from her grip, clattering to the floor with a sharp sound that cut through the room.

I stared at her, fuming.

“Go back and sit down,” I snapped, barely holding back the bile in my voice. “I’m done. If you can’t even get through this, there’s no point in continuing.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t even look up at me as she slowly made her way back to her seat. I could see how much she was struggling to hold it together, her face pale, her eyes fixed on the desk.

But as she sat back down, I noticed something—her hand, the one with the mechanical enhancements, was twitching again. Not just a slight tremble but a full, sharp jerk, as though it was malfunctioning. Something was wrong.

I glanced at her quickly, but her head was down, her eyes still on the desk, trying to hide her embarrassment. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Look… just… try harder next time,” I muttered, softer this time, though the weight of my words still lingered. She sat there, the tension in the air almost suffocating, and I realized how much I had just hurt her with my outburst.

I wasn’t supposed to be this harsh. Not with her. Not with someone who was clearly struggling. But I couldn’t take it back.  The regret sat heavy in my chest, but by the next morning, it was overshadowed by something worse—a full-blown fever.

I spent most of the morning in my dorm, too exhausted to move. My head throbbed with every small movement, my body aching from the sheer effort of existing. My classes were probably canceled. The students were probably celebrating the unexpected free periods and my absence. Not that I could blame them. With each passing day, I had become a surlier, less patient teacher. It wasn’t a secret that most of them hated my lectures. And honestly? Right now, I didn’t care.

But eventually, hunger won out over exhaustion. By lunchtime, my fever had gone down just enough that I could drag myself to the cafeteria for some soup.

The moment I stepped inside, my eyes, by habit, swept toward their usual spot—the table where Pruthvi, Antariksh, Sameer, and Neer always sat. Obviously, Sameer and Neer weren’t there. But Pruthvi wasn’t either.

Just Antariksh. She sat alone, her head slightly bowed, staring at her food but not eating. Lost. Daydreaming. Again. Something about the sight unsettled me.

She looked small. Not physically—she had always been on the shorter side—but something about the way she sat, shoulders slightly hunched, hands resting limply on the table, made her seem... adrift. Like she wasn’t fully present.

Like she hadn’t been for a while now.

I exhaled heavily, debating whether I should ignore her entirely or do something stupid like sit down. But before I could decide, her gaze lifted slightly—and for the briefest moment, our eyes met. And I saw it. That same flicker of unease, of something fragile barely held together.

The same look she had when she stood at the board yesterday, shaking under the weight of my words. I clenched my jaw, sighing internally. Damn it.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face before making up my mind. Screw it. I was already here. I might as well sit down. Dragging myself toward the table, I pulled out the chair across from Antariksh and dropped into it with a tired thud. My body ached, my fever hadn’t completely passed, and honestly, I was too exhausted to care if my presence made her uncomfortable.

I leaned back, exhaling sharply, signaling a servobot for my usual soup.

Antariksh blinked at me, startled. For a second, she looked like she wanted to say something, but instead, she lowered her gaze back to her untouched food, fidgeting with the I drummed my fingers against the table, waiting for my order, before finally breaking the silence. "Where's Pruthvi?"

Antariksh looked up again, like a startled monkey. "Oh… uh… sh-she’s w-working on a p-project," she stuttered.

"Ohh… right…," I muttered, remembering. "With Jwala."

Her fingers, which had been absently poking at her food, froze. Her shoulders stiffened just slightly, but enough that I noticed. Huh. I frowned slightly. Did she have a problem with Jwala?

Thinking back, I vaguely remembered something—Jwala had given her a tough time before. The science fest. I stirred my spoon in my soup as the servobot placed it in front of me. "Does that bother you?" I asked casually.

Antariksh immediately shook her head. "N-No! I-I-I… I mean—it's f-fine. Wh-why would it… it b-bother me?" I raised an eyebrow. Terrible liar. Plus, her stutter seemed worse than usual. I groaned inwardly. She was scared of me.

Why was she always scared of everything?!

Oh.

Yesterday.

I knew I’d yelled at her a bit too much.

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. My headache was getting worse, and the more I looked at Antariksh, the more irritated I felt. She was sitting there like a kicked puppy, stiff and nervous, poking at her food like it personally offended her.

And the stuttering. God, the stuttering.

"Relax," I muttered, stirring my soup. "I’m not going to bite your head off."

She flinched slightly but nodded quickly. Too quickly.

I exhaled sharply. "You feel left out."

She immediately shook her head. "N-no! I-It’s not l-like th-that—"

I raised an eyebrow. "It is like that."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue.

I scoffed, taking a slow sip of my soup. "That’s just life."

She frowned. "What?"

I set my spoon down. "People move on. You’re acting surprised, but it’s not like you didn’t see it coming. No one sticks around forever."

Antariksh stared at me, her fingers curled slightly against the tray.

I huffed a tired breath. "It’s just how things are. You get used to it."

She didn’t respond right away. I could feel the tension in the air, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her.

I was so done with this conversation. But for some reason, I kept talking. "You think the strongest people rely on others?" I tilted my head slightly. "They don’t. They survive because they don’t need anyone. At the end of the day, being alone is the only thing that’s real."

Antariksh stared at me, eyes flickering with something unreadable. I stirred my soup lazily, half-aware of what I was saying but too feverish and tired to care. "If you want to get anywhere in life, you rely on yourself. People come and go, but you? You’re always there. That’s all that matters." A long silence stretched between us.

Eventually, Antariksh nodded slowly. "Yeah… I guess that makes sense."

I barely registered her words. "Mhm."

She didn’t say anything else after that. I sighed, rubbing my temple. My head still felt heavy from the fever, and I had no energy for this, but… I knew I had to say something.

“…About yesterday,” I muttered, stirring my soup. “I might’ve gone overboard.”

Antariksh’s head shot up, her wide eyes blinking at me like I’d just spoken in an alien language.

I exhaled sharply. “Look, I was frustrated. But that doesn’t mean I should’ve lost my temper like that.”

She stared at me for a second before quickly shaking her head. “I-It’s okay.”

"No, seriously," I sighed again, leaning back slightly. "Listen… you're smart, Antariksh. You don’t belong in remedial classes. You don’t belong with students who are lazy or just… not capable. The only thing holding you back is you."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

I tapped my fingers against the table. "You’d be surprised what you can do if you just stopped doubting yourself. You don’t just have the potential to pass FAEAU—you can ace it."

Antariksh let out a small, disbelieving laugh.

I shrugged. "You can surprise yourself."

The bell rang, snapping both of us out of the moment.

Antariksh blinked before quickly reaching for her bag. She gave me a small, almost hesitant nod—silent, but acknowledging our conversation. Then, without a word, she gathered the scattered books and loose sheets on the table, shoving them into her bag in a hurry.

As she turned to leave, one of the sheets slipped out and fluttered to the ground.

I noticed it immediately, but by the time I reached for it, she was already gone.

Frowning, I picked up the paper and turned it over. My eyes widened slightly.

It was the same problem I had put on the board during remedial class. The one she had stood frozen in front of, unable to solve.

But here, on this sheet—she had solved it.

And not just solved it—she had done it in a more efficient method than what I had taught. The handwriting was a little messy, but the logic was solid, the steps precise.

My gaze drifted further down the page. More problems. More solutions. All done on her own.

I stared at it for a moment, then huffed a small, amused breath.

She’d be fine.

Slipping the sheet into my pocket, I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

She was going to clear FAEAU.

No.

She was going to ace it.