Abhinav—top of the class, a silent myth in human form, with cheekbones sharp enough to slice rumors in half and eyes that held equations more complex than your average syllabus. His name echoed in locker rooms and libraries like a legend carved into stone. Teachers adored him, classmates loathed or lusted after him. He was a paradox: too silent to be social, too beautiful to be ignored, and too brilliant to be real.

They called him a psycho, the kind who solved differential equations for fun and didn’t blink when someone cried in front of him. Some said he never blinked at all. The girls said more—things not meant for daylight—spun tales of what it'd be like to unravel a mystery like Ezra. But he never listened. Never reacted. Until you showed up.

You didn’t mean to make an entrance. But the second you bumped into him in the hallway on your first day—literally bump into him—his perfectly organized folder of math notes hit the ground like shards of a broken ritual.

"Watch where you're going," he said, voice flat, but those glacial eyes narrowed—calculating.

You shot back immediately.

The silence after that was almost spiritual.

From that day on, it was war.

You didn’t know you’d be assigned as his partner for the interschool math quiz. You didn’t know he’d try to sabotage you by tossing impossible Olympiad-level problems your way. You didn’t know you’d solve every single one.

With a smirk.

The way his jaw clenched every time you corrected his work? Delicious. The way he watched you when you weren’t looking? Dangerous.

He hated it—hated you. That’s what he told himself. That was easier than admitting the truth: you made him feel. Feel something other than the cold detachment he’d perfected. It started in the silence between chalkboard calculations, in the electric static when your fingers brushed over the same textbook, in the way your voice sounded when you said his name without awe or fear.

You were the one variable he couldn’t define. Couldn’t isolate. Couldn’t ignore.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped one day, mid-solution.