Author's note: Thank you so much for so much love on the last chapter. I'm so happy that you guys are liking Varun and Sanjana's story so much! We are officially about 10 chapters away from the ending ❤️

Let's see how quickly we can get this chapter to 140 votes :)

~New Feelings~

Varun Reddy

I curled up on my side, clutching my stomach as another wave of nausea rolled through me. The nurse had dismissed it as a simple stomach bug, nothing serious, but it certainly didn't feel like it.

My stomach felt like it had been violently turned inside out. The bitter, medicinal taste lingered at the back of my throat, refusing to go away.

I groaned into the pillow as another sharp pain tore through my abdomen, desperately trying to breathe through the discomfort. I didn't get any sleep last night. The moment I would begin to drift off, the churning in my gut would jolt me awake and I would have to run to the bathroom. My legs remained weak, hands trembling, and every time I stood, the room would spin dizzyingly. I understood now what it felt like to be drunk without touching a drop of alcohol.

Mustering the little strength I had, I pushed myself up. "Come on," I mumbled as I got out of bed. The sudden movement blurred the edges of my vision and without my glasses I was practically depending on my muscle memory. Stumbling towards the bathroom, I barely made it in time before I threw up clear liquid into the toilet.

By the time I was done, sweat dotted my forehead, and my legs shook uncontrollably. I leaned against the cold sink, gripping its edges tightly, fighting to catch my breath and steady myself.

I stepped outside and startled at the sight of someone in my room. Without my glasses, I couldn't see who it was, but I could recognize that perfume anywhere.

"Sanjana?" I managed to get past my parched throat before reaching for my glasses. Sliding them on, her blurry form snapped into focus. She stood frozen, her wide, tear-filled eyes locked on me, and for a moment, I couldn't understand why. Then it hit me.

I hadn't bothered to change into a shirt after sweating through two earlier. Frankly I had no energy and I thought what was the point when it would only happen again?

My fingers trembled violently as I grabbed a shirt, shame burning hotter than the fever last night as I covered the part of history that I never wanted anyone to know about. I hated everything in that moment– the sickness that made me vulnerable, the permanent scars that marked me, but most of all, I hated the pity I saw in her eyes, threatening to drown of whatever dignity I had left.

"Get out!" I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the tremor that threatened to break through. My hands were clenched into fists, nails digging painfully into my palms. "Just... get out, Sanjana."

She stood there, frozen, tears still tracking down her cheeks. "Sorry... I..." She cleared her throat and then held up the package in her hand. "I brought some more medication for you. The nurse said that it'll help you–"

"I said GET OUT!" I screamed. "I don't need your help and I definitely don't need your pity. Just leave me alone!"

Her brows furrowed as she stared at me with confusion. "Pity?" Her voice cracked. "Is that what you think this is?"

"What else would you call those tears?" I spat, gesturing wildly at her face. "Poor broken Varun with his ugly scars. Such a tragic story. Isn't that what you're thinking?" My story was tragic and the scars were ugly but they were mine. No one else had the right to pity me for them. "The horror, the shock, the 'oh you poor thing' look in your eyes. I don't want it. Any of it."

"How dare you?" She took a step forward, her shock morphing into anger. "How dare you tell me what I'm thinking or feeling?"

"I've seen that look plenty of times before," I snarled, backing away until I hit the wall. The looks from the neighbors at the old house who heard and saw my mother and my abuse. The looks from some of the police officers who stood silently watching my mother and I get physically and mentally tortured by my father's police officer friend.The room swayed dangerously, but I forced myself to stay upright. My hand accidentally knocked over the bottle spilling the water all over my desk. "Leave."

She took a step back, her expression guarded now. She straightened her shoulders and her jaw tightened. "Fine," she said quietly, dropping the medicines she brought with her on the bed. "I'll go."

I watched her retreating figure until the door clicked shut behind her. The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, I thought I'd feel relief, but it never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness settled over me.

I sank back onto the bed and picked up the medication. My breath came in shallow gasps as I buried my face in my hands.

"Stupid," I muttered under my breath. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

The image of Sanjana's tear-streaked face refused to leave my mind. I hated myself for how I'd spoken to her, for the way her voice had cracked while I yelled at her. But she didn't deserve to be dragged into my mess, to see me like this—broken and pathetic.

She was all sunshine and beauty, with a smile that could light up the gloomiest of days and a warmth that made people gravitate toward her. I, on the other hand, was the darkness—the scars, the bitterness, the ugliness that society turned away from.

It had been seconds. Or minutes. Or hours. I wasn't sure how long I sat there, wallowing in self-loathing.

The door burst open with enough force to bounce off the wall. My head snapped up and I found Sanjana standing in the doorway, with her arms over her chest.

"You're an idiot," she announced.

  "I thought I told you to leave," I croaked. My voice was weaker now, stripped of the anger I'd wielded earlier.

"Yeah? Make me." She kicked the door shut behind her and stomped toward me. "Because that's the only way I'm going anywhere is if you physically shove me out of your room."

I sighed wearily. "Sanjana–"

She sat on the bed beside me and grabbed my face. I flinched at the touch and tried to move away but with how weak I was feeling, she easily overpowered me. "What are you–"

"Shut up!" she said, squeezing my cheeks and forcing me to look at her. "You want me to leave? Fine. But first, you have to look me in the eyes and tell me you genuinely believe I'm here because of pity."

"Then why were you crying?"

"You're an absolute idiot!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm crying because you're hurt! Because something happened to you that left those scars, and the thought of you being in that much pain makes me want to find whoever did it and murder them! That's not pity, that's called giving a damn about someone! And I give a damn about you!"

The idea that someone gave a damn about me made my heart thud. I swallowed the feeling before it could take root. I didn't deserve it.

"Well, don't!" I said, the words tasted bitter in my mouth. "I don't want you to give a damn! I don't want you looking at me differently, treating me differently-"

"You can't stop me," she interrupts fiercely, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I will feel every ounce of anger on your behalf because you're my friend. I will cry for you when you're hurting, and I will take care of you even when you fight me on it." Her expression softens. "And I don't see you differently at all. Well, except now I know you're not as brilliant as you pretend to be. After all those snide comments during our study sessions, turns out you're the one who's truly stupid."

A weak chuckle escaped me before I can stop it, surprising us both. "You're impossible."

"And you're insufferable," she fired back, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But you're stuck with me."

"You are pretty annoying," I stated, shaking my head.

Her eyes lit up with mischief, a playful grin spreading across her face. "You think I'm pretty?" she asked, grinning.

I blinked at her, momentarily stunned by her proximity. She continued to lean in, clearly enjoying my discomfort, until my stomach did a flip. Stupid stomach bug.

"So for the final time, I'm not leaving," she stated, finally giving me space to breathe.

"What if I throw up on you?"

Her face scrunched in disgust before she realized what I was doing. Shaking her head, she reached into her bag and pulled out a digital thermometer. "100. The nurse said if you were above 102, we'll have to call her so you are good. Now what was the last time you ate something?" Her voice shifted to a businesslike tone that felt strange coming from someone who was usually all playful.

"I... don't remember." It threw me off seeing her all serious.

She tsked "Of course you don't." She shook out some pills. "Here. Small sips of water."

I did as she said, too exhausted to argue anymore. She moved around the room quietly and with purpose, opening windows to let in fresh air then she helped me lay on the bed. Before I could reach for my glasses, she pulled them off for me and set them on the study table.

I felt the bed dip as she settled beside me, followed by the soft rustle of her pulling out her phone. "Want me to read to you? I downloaded a new novel. It's really cute."

"Or we could study?" I suggest weakly, cracking one eye open just to see her expression of exasperation. "Since we missed today's session..."

She narrowed her eyes. "I see you are feeling better if you are back to your saddu self," she said with a pout. "But anyway you aren't back to your 100% so I'll just read this novel." Clearing her throat, she began, "There was a time when I..."

The story was riddled with plot holes and clichés, but there was something captivating about the way she read it. Her voice dipped and rose with each character's emotions, and when something amused her, she would giggle loudly. And whenever a character did something silly, her nose would scrunch up slightly before she'd catch herself and try to maintain a serious expression. I found myself watching her more than listening to the story – the way her fingers delicately traced the words on her phone screen, how she'd steal quick glances at me between paragraphs to make sure I was still awake, the soft smile that played on her lips when she caught me looking.

The last thing I felt before sleep claimed me completely was her adjusting the blanket around my shoulders.

____

It was the day before the talent show, and the auditorium thrummed with a chaotic energy. Everywhere, students rushed around finalizing costumes and props, their nervous excitement crackling in the air.

The morning sun streaming through the high windows felt different today - gentler somehow, as if it too was being kind to my recovering body. My stomach had finally settled and I felt lighter, steadier, and somewhere deep within, there was a strange spark of optimism.

Kabir Sir, thankfully, had taken pity on me. He excused me from the punishment, as long as I made up the hours by volunteering. But Tabassum? She wasn't so understanding. She expected me to do everything in my role as backstage coordinator, without any slack.

"Take these to the changing rooms," she snapped, thrusting a massive box into my arms with enough force to make me stumble. "These are some of the decorations. They're labeled so the volunteers can access them easily tomorrow."

"That's not a part of my job description," I protested.

"Your job is whatever I tell you it is, got it?" Her tone left no room for protest. "Now move!"

With a sigh, I trudged backstage and dropped off the box as asked. Once I was done, I found myself scanning the crowded space, pretending I wasn't searching for a particular face, a specific smile. I was lying to myself, of course.

"Looking for me?" A voice chirped from behind, playful and lively.

"No," I mumbled, trying to walk away and ignoring her presence. I couldn't look her in the eye. After yesterday... I wasn't sure how to act around her anymore. I felt exposed, out of place, now that I wasn't fever-weak and hiding behind the fog of illness.

But she wouldn't let me go that easily. She darted in front of me, blocking my path with those huge, wide bambi eyes and a huge grin.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," I muttered.

She reached up, her fingers brushing my forehead gently. "No fever," she declared triumphantly, her smile widening as she gave me a thorough once-over. "You're standing on your steady feet, and I'm pretty sure you glared at everyone on your way here. So yeah, we can safely conclude that you're definitely feeling much better."

I blinked, caught off guard. "How did you know...?" The question trailed off as realization dawned - she'd been watching me, just as I'd been searching for her. The thought made my pulse skip.

I adjusted my glasses nervously, trying to slip past her, but she blocked my path again, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"How do I look? This is my costume for tomorrow," she asked, spinning around, her arms thrown wide, waiting for my reaction.

I glanced at her, and for a second, everything seemed to slow down. Her sparkly pink dress was snug on top and then was flowy at the bottom. The light caught the sequins, making them shimmer like tiny stars. My heartbeat sped up and that familiar flutter returned in my stomach. Maybe I hadn't recovered as fully as I thought.

"It's okay," I mumbled, my voice quieter than I intended, my eyes darting to the ground as I fixed my glasses.

"Okay?" she asked, with faux rage. "Just okay?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer 'Adequate'? 'Satisfactory'?"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" she said, punching my arm. "You missed my performance by 10 minutes. I looked for you in the audience."

"I'm sure it was good."

"Okay?" she gasped in mock outrage. "Just okay?"

I couldn't help the teasing smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Would you prefer 'adequate'? 'Satisfactory'?"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" she laughed, punching my arm lightly. "You missed my performance by 10 minutes! I looked for you in the audience, you know."

That last admission made my breath catch. Why would she look for me? Why would my approval matter to someone like her? "I'm sure it was good," I replied, though my words felt hollow in comparison to the nervous excitement building in my chest.

Her eyes glinted with mischief as she stepped closer. "It wasn't good. It was amazing. Everyone cheered for me so hard. You should have seen it, but it's fine you can see the final product tomorrow."

My usual sharp snark had deserted me, leaving my throat dry and my mind blank. I shifted my weight, hands awkwardly stuffed into my pockets. "Okay."

She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, closing even more of the distance between us. "Are you sure you're feeling well? Because I don't think you've gotten all your words back."

My walkie talkie crinkled. "Varun, I need you on stage," Tabassum demanded.

"I need to go," I said, murmuring and quickly walked away from her.