Author's note: Thank you so much for the love on the last chapter ❤️

As promised, here is the chapter on the 17th :)

Let's get this chapter to 140 votes, please?

~New Mother Theresa of Imperial College~

Sanjana Thapar

Things I don’t like about Varun 

1. Frowns and scowls too much (He’s going to get wrinkles soon if he keeps this up)

2. Doesn’t talk much (other than our studies. With that he goes on and on till I mentally block him off)

3. Replies in monosyllables (What is he? A secret caveman?)

4. Wears socks with sandals (A crime against fashion)

5. Occasionally very mean (Okay, this one... might be justified just that one time.)

Ugh! That was it? I thought I would run out of paper, but I had only five points. So far of course.

I stared at that last point, gnawing on my lower lip. The memory of his anger, the disappointment in his eyes that night in the taxi... it made my stomach churn. I set my notebook down and hugged my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them.

Had I really become that person Varun claimed I was? The one who was oblivious and unbothered by other people’s hardships? I’d always prided myself on being a total sassy and classy vibe, not the cruel kind. When did those lines start to blur?

My mind wandered back to my childhood. I absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around my finger as I thought about growing up surrounded by wealth and privilege. Big house, fancy clothes, new cars, shiny jewelry, all the things I have wanted handed to me before I could demand. It was all I’d ever known.

But was it an excuse?

After a lengthy conversation with my grandfather, I reluctantly admitted that Varun’s outburst, while totally dramatic, wasn’t entirely unwarranted. I felt like I too would react the same if I was in his shoes. I realized that, given the same circumstances, I might have reacted in a similar way.

The realization hit me – I needed to do better. Not for anyone else’s approval, but for myself. I didn’t want to be known as the obnoxious superficial girl who everyone talked about behind her back. No, I wanted to be someone that others looked up to. 

But change was hard. It wasn’t like I could just wake up one night and suddenly be Mother Teresa (and not only because I didn’t like the whole white saree and no make up look). Still, I had to start somewhere.

Still, I had to start somewhere. I picked up my pen again, and began writing a new list:

“Operation: Become a Better Me (But Still Fabulous)”

1. Give myself a monthly budget 

2. Compliment at least five people everyday. Sincerely 

3. Avoid gossiping 

4. Smile and try to be nice to everyone(Even the ones who don’t deserve it)

A sharp knock on my door surprised me. Was it 7:30 already? Time flies when you’re having an existential crisis, apparently.

“Good evening!” I greeted Varun on the other side of the door with a wide smile.

He stared at me for a moment before nodding in return. “Hi,” he said as he brushed past me. 

“Do you practice your scowl in the mirror everyday?”

Varun paused mid-drag of a chair across the floor, looking up with furrowed brows. “What?”

“Nothing,” I murmured. It had barely been 15 minutes and I was already returning to my old self. That wouldn’t do. 

He sat on the chair while I settled on the bed. 

Before I could stop him, he reached for my open notebook on the bed. 

“Wait!” I yelped, lunging forward and snatching it away. I hugged it to my chest, my heart racing. “That’s... private. You can’t just open other people’s books without asking.”

Varun looked flustered, his hands clenching into fits on his thigh.“Oh, I... I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I thought it was just your study notes.” Clearing his throat, he leaned back in his seat. “Let’s review your Supply Chain Management quiz? What did you get on it?”

I fidgeted with the corner of my notebook. “I... I don’t remember, but it was very good,” I lied, half-heartedly rummaging through my designer tote bag.

Varun’s eyebrows shot up. “How can you not remember?” he asked, that familiar frown deepening. “We got it back today.”

“I can’t find it,” I said with an exaggerated shrug. “Oh well... Let’s study something else?”

“Sanjana,”  he said my name in a tone that screamed ‘I’m not buying it’.

I groaned dramatically, flopping against Goldilocks before sitting up again. Reluctantly, I pulled out the crumpled quiz and thrust it at him. He had tried to ask me in class what I got, but I managed to avoid him. 

Varun stared at my quiz for what felt like an eternity, his brow furrowed in concentration. Nervousness and self consciousness washed over me as I watched him shake his head and murmur something under his breath. My grade wasn’t what I wanted but it wasn’t that bad. I resisted the urge to snatch the piece of paper back.  

Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting mine. I braced myself for the lecture, but instead, he just sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Okay,” he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think this is working as well as it should. Your grades are... inconsistent and there are no clear patterns I can figure out.”

Panic gripped me. Was he too refusing to continue to tutor me? What would I do if he walked out on me as well? “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I promise I’ll do better. I don’t know what happened. I just blanked on a few terms. Next quiz… I’ll ace it.”

“I’m sure you will, but–”

“But, what?” I demanded, panicking. “You promised you would help me and now just because I didn’t do well on one quiz, you are quitting?”

“I was talking about changing up our study style,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, seemingly confused by my outburst. “I’m not quitting.”

“Oh…”

“I was reading an article that we all have different learning styles and it’s important we find a plan that works for so you can succeed.”

“I don’t understand?”

“I feel like our sessions are an information load for you so we’ll try the Pomodoro technique. At least for our evening sessions.” When I stared at him cluelessly, he said, “It’s when we study for 20 minutes and then take a 5 minute break.”

“You are encouraging breaks?” I asked, my eyes widening.

“Short, structured breaks can improve focus and retention,” he mumbled, fixing his glasses. He looked around the room and pointed at an empty jar I had gotten to fill with trinkets. “Can I?” When I nodded, he returned with it and placed it on the bed. “You can write what you want to do during these breaks in chits and pick one every twenty minutes.”

"Isn't 5 minutes too short though? I think 15-" I paused when I noticed his expression. He claims he doesn't glare, but... "10? 9? 8? 7? 6?" I asked, watching for any change. His face remained impassive. "5 minutes is just right. Not too long. Not too short," I conceded.

"Make the chits and put them in this," he said, shaking his head and handing me the jar. "I'll make sure to keep you on track and not let you get distracted."

I nodded, tapping my pen against my notebook.

"Also, I noticed that you scribble things down... so maybe try color coding your notes? Tabassum does that as well and she said it helps her a lot. I think she uses green for definitions, blue for case studies, red for formulas. You can try, who knows it may work for you as well."

"Really? And she's okay with you sharing her groundbreaking study techniques with me? Are you sure she won't break into this room and tell me off?" I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

He sighed. "Look, I know her reaction was very uncalled for and I'll talk to her—"

"I saw you guys chatting in the hallway during the morning break," I interrupted.

"We were talking about post-grad applications," he said. "Your topic didn't really come up."

"Oh? So I'm a topic? Anyway, please don't ruin your intellectually advanced discussions on my behalf," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

Silence filled the room, broken only by faint music from someone's birthday party and chatter down the hall. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. "You can change up the color scheme. I don't think she chose it for a particular reason."

"No, I don't like the idea. I'll write all my notes in one single color," I announced, fully aware of how petty it sounded.

He shrugged. "Fine, do whatever you want. I can't force you to do something you don't want to. Even if it's for your benefit."

Varun reached into his backpack and pulled out a trifold cardboard. He stared at it for a moment before speaking. "I'm not very creative when it comes to this, but I think it will help get a visual idea of where you are and where you need to be."

I opened the board and stared at it speechless. He had written down all the major assignments, quizzes, and midterms for each subject for the rest of the year, along with the minimum grade I would need to maintain my overall grade. There was also a section for writing what I actually got on each exam. "Wow..." I said, running my fingers on the board. "This is very thorough." This had to have taken him an hour if not more.

He cleared his throat, appearing awkward. "Like I said, I'm not very creative. If you like, you can create your own version. I know you like aesthetic-appearing things."

I immediately shook my head. "No, this is perfect."

"So I was thinking - we'll use a reward system. Every time there's an exam, you can write something you want to buy or do. And once you hit the target grade, you can treat yourself. You know, like a new nail polish, a snack, a day off from studying?" When I didn't respond, he continued. "I'm not sure what you consider a treat, but feel free to write it in there if you want me to hold you accountable."

"Ice cream. One scoop of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate," I blurted out.

"Great... so for the accounting quiz, you can get the ice cream once you get 87%," he said, his tone softening slightly.

"That's what Tara and I would always get after our exams," I said, before I could stop myself. Memories of us eating our own ice cream while also stealing each other's flooded my mind. I quickly shook away that memory, focusing back on Varun.

Clearing his throat, Varun shuffled the papers in front of him. "Right. Let's get started on supply chain management. You mentioned you were struggling with the concept of reverse logistics?"

I nodded, grateful for the change of subject. This was one of the times his disinterest in my life was a boon.

I listened as Varun explained reverse logistics, his usual brusque demeanor softening slightly. Only because it was academic related. I tried to pay attention to his words, but I found myself oddly captivated by the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he drew diagrams to illustrate his points.

As I was jotting down some notes, I realized something. "What about the break?"

Varun looked up, surprised. "Oh, right. The Pomodoro technique." He checked his watch. "We've been at it for an hour. We should've taken a break 40 minutes ago."

"Oops?" 

He shook his head, but I caught a hint of amusement in his eyes. "We'll start properly tomorrow. For now, take five minutes and then we'll do a 20 minute sprint before calling it a day."

I nodded, stretching my arms above my head and letting out a loud yawn before scrolling through my phone for the 5 minutes. As I did, I noticed Varun's eyes flickered towards me before quickly looking away.

The last stretch of our study session flew by. Soon I was watching him pack up his things. As usual I always walked him to the door.

“Thanks again for all this,” I said, leaning against the door. “I know I’m not the best student and can be...a little challenging."

Varun paused, his fingers clutching the strap of his backpack. “You're not challenging,” he said quietly. “You just needed the right approach. You're actually quite... capable.”

I blinked, surprised. “Am I dreaming? Because there's no way you just gave me a compliment.”

“Good night,” he said and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I tried to stop him by grabbing his arm out of instinct, but he immediately pulled his hand away as if my touch burned him.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, holding my hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you not giving up on me. Especially after... well, you know.”

He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his glasses. "It's nothing. I'm just doing my job."

“No, it's not nothing,” I insisted. “I'm giving you credit. Why can't you just take it? You're really putting in so much effort in trying to help me succeed. It means a lot.”

He was quiet for a moment before giving me a curt nod. "You're worth the effort," he said softly, then quickly added, "As a student, I mean. Your academic success is important to me because that's what you paid me to do and I do this for all my students."

Oh? So much for feeling special.

“Anyway, I'm going to get going. Don't forget to fill that break jar and your reward chart,” he said before turning on his heel and walking away. I watched his retreating form. A pair of first-year girls in the hallway burst into giggles as Varun passed them, one of the girls' eyes following him with obvious interest.. Shaking my head at her poor taste, I returned to sit on my bed. I glanced at the trifold board, an unexplainable warmth spreading through me. For the first time in a while, I felt a genuine spark of motivation and confidence. It was nice knowing someone trusted you.

I sat up, reaching for a pen and some paper. As I began jotting down ideas for break activities, I couldn't help but giggle at some of the more ridiculous ones I came up with. I wondered if Varun would actually let me get away with these.

As I dropped this final piece into the jar, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervous excitement. Our study sessions were about to get a lot more interesting.