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, ...