The architecture studio was louder than usual.

Someone’s playlist leaked from cheap speakers. Someone else argued about column spacing. The smell of instant coffee and printer ink hung in the air like a permanent cloud.

Aarohi sat cross-legged on her stool, sketchbook open, pencil moving fast.

Maya leaned over. “You’re humming again.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You think out loud.”

“It’s more efficient.”

Kabir dropped into the seat opposite her. “Professor Malhotra is coming for mid-review in twenty minutes. Please don’t spill anything.”

Aarohi didn’t look up. “I spilled coffee once.”

“You spilled coffee on his model.”

“Details.”

Neha placed a fresh cup beside her. “Drink this slowly. With both hands.”

“I have excellent motor skills.”

“You tripped over your own bag ten minutes ago.”

“The bag attacked first.”

The studio door opened.

Conversations dropped to whispers.

Arjun walked in, black shirt sleeves rolled up, a single tablet under his arm. He looked exactly the same as always — calm, precise, impossible to read.

He’s too quiet, Aarohi thought. People that quiet are either peaceful or dangerous. I still haven’t decided which.

Arjun’s eyes scanned the room once.

“Continue working. I will come to each of you.”

He started at the far end.

Aarohi forced herself to keep drawing.

Maya whispered, “He’s going to reach us in less than ten minutes. Behave.”

“I always behave.”

“You never behave.”

Kabir muttered, “I’m moving my model farther away from you just in case.”

Arjun stopped at a group of three students near the window.

“Your corridor is too narrow,” he said. “A person carrying groceries will not pass comfortably. Widen it by twenty centimetres or change the door swing.”

“Yes, sir.”

He moved to the next desk.

“This roof pitch is incorrect for the rainfall data of this region. Water will pool. Fix the angle.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aarohi kept her head down, but her pencil slowed.

He never raises his voice, she thought. He doesn’t need to. One sentence and everyone sits up straighter. It’s unfair.

Arjun reached their table.

He stopped behind Kabir first.

“Your staircase is taking twenty-eight percent of the total floor area. That is excessive for a thirty-square-metre unit. Reduce it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Maya.

“Clean. Logical. The storage integration is well thought. Good.”

Maya smiled.

Then he stood behind Aarohi.

She didn’t turn around.

Arjun’s voice came quietly. “Miss Sharma.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“You raised the loft.”

“I did.”

“By thirty centimetres, as discussed.”

“Yes.”

“And you lowered the floor of the loft by fifteen.”

“Yes.”

“Show me the section.”

She slid the sheet toward him.

Arjun studied it in silence for several seconds.

The proportions are better, he thought. She listened. Most students argue first and correct later. She argues and corrects at the same time.

He spoke. “The headroom is acceptable now. Circulation is clearer. However, the kitchen counter is still too low.”

Aarohi finally turned. “It’s designed for someone who is five-foot-two.”

“Most users will not be five-foot-two.”

“Then most users can bend a little. Design should not always favour the tallest person in the room.”

A pause.

Arjun looked at her. “You are five-foot-five.”

“Approximately.”

“And you designed the counter for someone shorter than yourself.”

“I have friends who are shorter. They matter too.”

Another short silence.

“Revise the counter to a flexible height. Adjustable legs or two-level surface. Submit the detail on Monday.”

Aarohi blinked. “That was almost reasonable.”

“It was practical.”

“Same family of words.”

Maya kicked her under the table again.

Arjun moved to the next group without another word.

Kabir waited until he was out of earshot. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

“He liked the loft.”

“He said the headroom was acceptable. That is not the same as liking it.”

“It’s the closest he gets to liking anything.”

Neha shook her head. “I don’t know how you’re still alive.”

Aarohi picked up her coffee, took a careful sip, and grinned. “Pure talent.”

Twenty minutes later Arjun returned to the centre of the studio.

“Listen carefully. Next week you will work in pairs. One residential unit, sixty square metres, for a family of five. Site is a narrow plot in a dense neighbourhood. Constraints will be given Monday. Choose your partners before you leave today.”

Aarohi’s hand shot up.

Arjun looked at her. “Yes, Miss Sharma.”

“Do we get to choose freely?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone doesn’t want to work with me?”

“Then they will learn the value of patience.”

A few students laughed.

Aarohi smiled sweetly. “What if I don’t want to work with someone?”

“Then you will learn the value of compromise.”

“That sounds unfair.”

“Architecture is unfair. Buildings do not care about your preferences.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

He’s impossible, she thought. And somehow I keep talking to him anyway.

Arjun continued. “Submit partner names on the sheet near the door before you leave. Class dismissed.”

Students began packing up.

Maya turned to Aarohi immediately. “We’re pairing, right?”

“Obviously.”

Kabir raised both hands. “I’m taking Neha. I value my life.”

Neha nodded. “Smart man.”

Aarohi laughed. “Cowards.”

She stood, gathered her sheets, and walked toward the door. One of her pencils slipped again and rolled under a table.

She knelt to grab it.

When she stood up, Arjun was a few steps away, speaking to another student.

She waited until he finished.

“Professor.”

He turned. “Miss Sharma.”

“About the pair work.”

“Yes.”

“If my partner and I disagree on something major, do we both get the same grade?”

“You will be graded on the final outcome and the process. Disagreement is normal. Inability to resolve it is not.”

“So we have to learn to argue productively.”

“Yes.”

“I’m already good at the arguing part.”

“I noticed.”

She tilted her head. “Was that sarcasm?”

“It was an observation.”

“You say that a lot.”

“It is often accurate.”

A small silence stretched between them.

Aarohi shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “I’ll submit the adjustable counter detail on Monday.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“You expect a lot.”

“Yes.”

She almost smiled. “See you Monday, Professor.”

“On time, Miss Sharma.”

“No promises.”

She walked out.

Maya was waiting in the corridor, arms crossed.

“You talked to him again.”

“I asked a practical question.”

“You always have a practical question.”

Kabir joined them. “I already wrote our names on the sheet. You two are stuck with each other.”

Aarohi grinned. “Perfect.”

Neha looked back toward the studio door. “He’s still inside.”

“Probably judging our life choices from a distance,” Aarohi said.

Maya linked their arms. “Come on. I’m hungry and you still have graphite on your cheek.”

Aarohi wiped her face again. “It’s my signature look.”

Inside the studio, Arjun stood alone near the windows, tablet in hand.

He opened Aarohi’s digital submission from the previous class and looked at the revised loft section once more.

She listens, he thought. Even when she argues. Especially when she argues.

He closed the file.

Outside, the corridor slowly emptied.

Arjun remained where he was for another minute, staring at nothing in particular.

Then he turned off the lights and left, the door clicking shut behind him with quiet finality.