The next few days passed in the same routine.
Abhimanyu became the quiet centre of attention without doing anything at all. Girls from different classes found excuses to walk past their lecture hall. Some sat in seats closer to the back. A few even tried to talk to him after class, asking about notes or where he had transferred from. He answered in short, flat sentences when he had no choice, but most of the time he simply looked past them and walked away.
He never smiled.
He never started a conversation.
Yet that only seemed to make more people interested.
Muskan noticed all of it the way she noticed everything else, but she didn’t think much about it. She had already tried being friendly once and he had ignored her completely. That was enough for her. She was not the type to force conversation on someone who clearly did not want it.
She remained the same.
In the morning she still greeted the canteen auntie with a smile. She still shared her notes with anyone who asked. She still stayed back after class to help a junior who was struggling with an assignment. When her friends talked about how handsome Abhimanyu was, she only nodded and said, “He’s good-looking, yes,” before changing the topic to the upcoming internal exams.
She felt nothing toward him.
No curiosity. No irritation. No interest.
He was simply the new boy who preferred to stay alone, and she was fine with that.
On Thursday, during the break, one of her friends, Riya, leaned across the desk.
“Did you see? Two girls from the other section were waiting near the stairs just to look at him.”
Muskan packed her books without looking up. “Let them. He doesn’t seem interested in talking to anyone.”
“You tried on the first day, right? He ignored you so badly.”
Muskan gave a small shrug. “It’s okay. Not everyone wants to talk. I was just being polite.”
Riya stared at her for a second. “You’re too nice sometimes.”
Muskan only smiled and stood up. “Come on. We’ll be late for the next class.”
That afternoon, the professor assigned a short group activity. Students had to form pairs and discuss a case study. Most people quickly found partners. Abhimanyu remained in his seat at the back, looking at the window as usual.
A girl from the front row walked over to him almost immediately. Muskan saw her speaking, smiling, and gesturing toward an empty chair. Abhimanyu didn’t even turn his head fully. He said something short. The girl’s face fell. She walked back looking embarrassed.
A second girl tried a few minutes later. Same result.
Muskan watched for a moment, then turned back to her own partner. She did not feel sorry for him. She did not feel anything. He clearly preferred to be left alone, and that was his choice.
When the class ended, she collected her things and left with her friends. On the way out, she noticed Abhimanyu walking a few steps ahead, alone as always. Two girls followed at a distance, whispering. He never looked back.
Muskan didn’t either.
Later that evening, while she sat in the library finishing her work, she saw him again. He was at a table far in the corner, a single book open in front of him. He didn’t look up when people passed. He didn’t notice when a group of girls sat two tables away and kept glancing at him.
Muskan returned to her notes.
She stayed until the library lights flickered for closing time. As she packed her bag, she noticed that Abhimanyu had already left. She felt no disappointment, no curiosity about where he had gone. She simply walked back to the hostel with the same calm expression she always wore.
Inside her room, she changed, washed her face, and sat on the bed with her phone. Her friends were still texting about Abhimanyu—how he looked that day, how he ignored another girl, how mysterious he seemed.
Muskan replied with a simple message:
“He’s just quiet. Leave him be.”
Then she put the phone aside and opened her textbook.
She was kind to everyone. That was her nature.
But kindness did not mean interest.
And right now, Abhimanyu was nothing more to her than a silent transfer student who preferred to be left alone.
She had no idea how much that would change.
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