The studio was fuller than usual on Thursday.

Every table had extra sheets spread out. Someone had brought extra coffee. Someone else was already erasing the same line for the fourth time. The air smelled of graphite, tension, and the quiet fear of being sent back to the beginning.

Aarohi walked in thirty seconds late — a new record — coffee steady, drawings rolled tight, face carefully composed.

Maya stared. “You’re almost on time.”

“I’m evolving under pressure.”

Kabir looked suspicious. “You’re also very quiet. That’s never a good sign.”

Neha added, “Last time you were this quiet, you came back with a family dinner and a mysterious surname.”

Aarohi set her things down. “You three should charge consultation fees.”

Maya lowered her voice. “Have you spoken to him since Monday?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know.”

Kabir muttered, “This is going to be the most uncomfortable final review in department history.”

The door opened.

The room fell into the usual expectant silence, only thicker today.

Arjun walked in, tablet in hand, black shirt perfect, expression unreadable.

She is here, he thought. Still carrying the question she asked. Still waiting for an answer I cannot give her in this room.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning, sir.”

Aarohi lifted her coffee. “Morning, Professor.”

His eyes met hers for a fraction longer than usual. “Miss Sharma. Thirty seconds late.”

“Progress.”

“Still late.”

“I’m leaving a margin for error.”

A few students smiled, but the smiles faded faster than usual. The undercurrent in the room had shifted. Everyone could feel it even if they didn’t know why.

Arjun placed the tablet down. “Today is the final review for this project. I will look at structure, materials, joinery, and whether the whole thing can actually be built. After today I will finalise the two pairs for the Pune workshop. Begin. Groups near the window first.”

He started walking.

Maya whispered, “He’s more serious than usual.”

Aarohi whispered back, “He’s always serious. Today he just has better lighting for it.”

Kabir muttered, “I’m going to be sick.”

Neha patted his shoulder. “At least you’ll be sick with good detailing.”

Arjun moved from table to table. His comments were precise and final.

“This junction will collect dust. Redesign it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This beam is still undersized. You were told last week.”

“We’ll correct it, sir.”

“This screen detail is buildable. Good.”

When he reached their table, the air seemed to thin.

Arjun looked at the full set of drawings. “Walk me through it.”

Aarohi spoke clearly. “Grid is consistent. Load path is clear. Screens have thermal break, drip edge, removable cover plate, and shadow gap. Kitchen counter has concealed brackets and service void. Loft edge is finished with a recessed detail so it doesn’t collect dust. Everything is dimensioned.”

He studied the sheets in silence for a long time.

The work is complete, he thought. More than complete. She has closed every gap I pointed out and anticipated two more. The chaotic student has delivered the cleanest package in the room.

He spoke. “The package is coherent. The details are buildable. The structural logic holds. One minor note — the service void behind the counter should have a small access panel at the end for future maintenance. Add it.”

Aarohi nodded. “Okay.”

He looked at her. “Still no argument?”

“Not today.”

“You have become very agreeable.”

“I’m saving my arguments for things that matter more than access panels.”

A short silence.

Maya stared at her drawing as if it had become the most interesting object in the world.

Arjun’s voice remained even. “Add the access panel. Submit the final set by tomorrow evening. The rest is acceptable.”

Then he moved on.

Kabir waited until he was three tables away. “He said ‘acceptable.’ From him that’s basically fireworks.”

Neha whispered, “I’m writing this down. History is happening.”

Aarohi didn’t smile. “It’s just a project.”

Maya watched her face. “It’s never just a project with you two.”

The review continued. One by one the other groups received their final notes. Some left looking relieved. Some left looking pale. The workshop selection hung over every conversation like a low cloud.

Near the end of the session Arjun returned to the front.

“I will announce the two pairs for Pune on Monday. Until then, finish your submissions cleanly. Class dismissed.”

Students began packing, voices rising with a mixture of hope and dread.

Maya stood. “Canteen?”

Aarohi shook her head. “You go. I need five minutes.”

Kabir sighed. “She’s staying. Of course she’s staying.”

Neha pulled her bag up. “Don’t start a new campus rumour.”

“I’ll try.”

They left with the others.

The studio emptied until only the sound of Aarohi’s pencil remained.

She was adding the access panel when she heard the quiet movement at the front table.

Arjun had not left.

She spoke without looking up. “You’re still here.”

“Yes.”

“You always stay when I stay.”

“I have work.”

“That’s the official reason.”

“It is the only reason I am giving.”

A short silence.

Aarohi set the pencil down and turned on her stool. “Professor.”

“Yes.”

“About Monday.”

He waited.

“I asked you a question. You told me this wasn’t the place.”

“It still is not.”

“Then when is the place?”

Arjun closed the folder under his hand. “Not inside this department. Not while I am your professor.”

“That’s a very neat boundary.”

“Boundaries exist for a reason.”

She stood and walked closer to the front table, stopping a few feet away. “My mother is treating next Sunday like it’s important. She used the word ‘pending.’ She told me not to argue when I get home. That doesn’t sound like a normal family dinner.”

Arjun’s expression remained controlled, but the silence before he answered was longer than usual.

“It is not a normal family dinner,” he said finally.

Aarohi’s voice stayed quiet. “Then what is it?”

“Something that was decided years ago. Something neither of us was asked about.”

The words settled between them like dust.

Aarohi stared at him. “You’re saying that like you already know the whole story.”

“I know enough.”

“And you’re not going to tell me.”

“Not here. Not like this.”

She gave a short, disbelieving breath. “You stand there and correct every millimetre of my drawings, but when it’s something that actually affects my life you suddenly become careful with information.”

“Yes.”

“That’s unfair.”

“It is necessary.”

Another silence.

Aarohi crossed her arms. “Are you going to be there on Sunday?”

Arjun met her eyes. “Yes.”

“As the visiting professor who teaches me, or as someone else?”

“As someone who does not have a choice.”

The honesty in that sentence was sharper than any criticism he had ever given her.

Aarohi looked away first, toward the rain-streaked windows. “This is going to make everything strange.”

“It does not have to enter this room.”

“It already has.”

Arjun didn’t deny it.

She picked up her bag and drawings. “I’ll submit the final set tomorrow.”

“On time.”

“I know.”

She walked to the door, then stopped with her hand on the frame, back still turned to him.

“Professor.”

“Yes.”

“Whatever this is… whatever our families decided… I don’t like being the last person to know.”

Arjun’s voice was very quiet. “I know.”

“Then fix it.”

“I intend to.”

She nodded once, as if that answer was both insufficient and the only one she was going to get, and left.

The door closed.

Arjun remained standing in the empty studio for a long time, the final drawings of the semester spread across the tables like quiet evidence of everything that had been built and everything that was about to be tested.

Sunday, he thought.

She will walk into that house not knowing the full shape of what is waiting.

And I will already be there.

He closed the folder, turned off the lights one by one, and walked out.

Behind him the studio settled into darkness, holding the weight of every unfinished conversation that had nowhere else to go.