~With a twist~

Sanjana Thapar

Today was the last day of the punishment and today I was ordered to grate cheese. I really thought it would be an easy task considering all the things we have had to do, but I was wrong. So wrong. The cafeteria manager had decided that he needed enough cheese to last a week, and hours later, I was still nowhere near done.

It might've been easier if my partner wasn't Tabassum. We could've passed the time with some conversation, and maybe the task would've gone faster.

Then a loud thud startled us. We looked over to see Ayushmaan, who had dropped an entire bucket of dirty water while mopping the floor. He groaned, rushing to clean up his mess. Honestly, maybe my punishment wasn't so bad after all.

I glanced at Tabassum, who was still completely focused on grating. I wasn't sure if she even noticed me staring at her, but when our eyes met, she didn't smile.

I cleared my throat. "So..." I began, my voice slightly shaky despite my efforts to sound casual. "What are your plans after graduation?"

She looked up with a small scowl like she was weighing whether I deserved an answer. "MBA and then join my dad's business," she finally replied, her voice cold and distant.

I leaned forward eagerly. "Oh my God! Same! Though I'm definitely not joining my dad's business," I confessed with a nervous giggle. "Way too boring for someone like me. What about your dad? What kind of business does he do?"

"He owns an architecture film in Nainital," she said curtly before returning her attention to the task, clearly ending that conversation.

My heart raced as I gathered courage for what I really wanted to know. "So..." I started again, my fingers fidgeting with the grater. "Varun mentioned his interview went really well."

"Yes," she replied without looking up. "That's what he told me as well."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "When he leaves... you'll miss him, won't you?" My voice came out higher than intended.

She looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"I—I mean," I stammered, words tumbling out in a nervous rush, "Since you're friends and everything. You are just friends, right? Or maybe... something more? What's actually going on between you two? Will you keep talking after he's gone? How often? Because friends usually drift apart when there's distance, but if there's something more, people make time, don't they? So... how often do you think you'll talk to him?"

"Excuse me?" Tabassum's hands went still as she stared at me in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking if I have feelings for Varun?"

My cheeks burned , but I tried to shrug casually. "Not really... but you can tell me if you want."

She narrowed her eyes, studying me intently. "Not that it's any of your business," she said sharply, '"But no. Varun is nothing more than a friend. I have actual plans for my future, and they don't include getting sidetracked by some guy. I don't have time for all this love bullshit."

Relief flooded through me. I couldn't stop myself from pressing further. "So you really don't like him? Like, at all?"

"Do you need me to write it across my forehead or something?" she demanded, exasperated. Then her expression shifted, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why are you so obsessed with Varun's life anyway?"

"I—"

Two soccer players entered the cafeteria, still in their muddy uniforms.

"How was practice?" Ayushmaan called out, abandoning his mop.

"Coach is absolutely murdering us out there," one of them groaned dramatically.

"When are you finally coming back?" the other asked Ayushmaan.

"Today's the last day of this complete nightmare," Ayushmaan replied with a sigh.

"Sanjana!" The first player spotted me, his face lighting up. He headed straight for our table as I stiffened. He never took a hint. "Well, hello there! How's my favorite girl doing today?" he asked, leaning across our workspace, disturbing my pile of cheese.

"Hi." I didn't even try to hide my disinterest.

"A pretty face like yours shouldn't be stuck doing punishment duty," he said with what he clearly thought was charm.

"And some people shouldn't be wasting oxygen but here we are," I replied with a faux sweet smile.

"You are so funny!" he said, grinning. Then he looked over to Tabssum, who hadn't even looked up from her task. "Oh you are here too," he said. "Make sure you don't eat all the cheese. It's for everyone. Not just you."

"Dude!" Ayushmaan called from across the room, his voice carrying a warning.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" I demanded.

His grin grew wider. "What? I'm just making conversation." He turned back to me. "So Sanjana, once you're done babysitting the cafeteria's best customer, maybe we could—"

"Do you have a death wish or something?" I interrupted, my voice shaking with anger.

"What?" He looked genuinely surprised. "I'm just messing around."

"Well, it's not funny," I snapped. "It's disgusting. And if you think I'd go anywhere with someone who talks like that, you're even dumber than you look."

His face darkened. "Calm down. I was just joking. Tabassum knows that and if she is offended then she needs to develop a sense of humor."

"You should leave," Ayushmaan said, approaching us.

"Dude! Why are you both getting so worked up?"

"I got him," the other guy said and dragged his friend away.

I glanced at Tabassum, whose face had gone completely still, her knuckles white around the grater.

"Tabby," Ayushmaan began.

"Tabassum," she interrupted. "My name is Tabassum."

"Okay," he mumbled, raising his hands in surrender. "Tabassum, I'm sorry."

"Whatever," she said curtly. She picked up the cheese she had grated and took it away.

"I'm sorry about that," I said quietly as I followed her into the kitchen.

Her expressions reamain unreadable. "Why are you apologizing? You didn't say it."

"I know, but—"

"I don't need your pity," she cut me off, her voice curt. "Or your defense."

I stared at her, taken aback. "It's not pity. What he said was cruel and wrong."

She let out a hollow laugh, one that didn't reach her eyes. "And why exactly did that bother you so much?" she asked, turning to face me fully. "You barely know me. It's not like we're friends or anything."

"So?" I countered, my frustration rising. "Just because we're not friends doesn't mean I should sit there while someone insults you."

"Oh please!" she scoffed. This is nothing new. I have heard these things all my life from girls like you."

My stomach twisted. "Girls like me?" I repeated. "What does that even mean?"

She gave me a long, tired look. "You know exactly what it means," she said quietly. "The ones who get to walk into a room and be instantly seen. The ones whose worth is never questioned, who are never made to feel like they have to apologize for existing. The pretty, thin ones who always looked at people like me with either amusement, pity, or—" her jaw clenched, "—disgust. Like we were beneath you."

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come. Because what could I say? That she was wrong? That I wasn't like that?

Except I had been. Maybe not in words, maybe not even in conscious thought, but I had been.

God, I was an idiot.

"I..." I started, but my throat tightened. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't that person anymore, that I had changed. But what was the point? My change wouldn't erase her experiences. It wouldn't undo the way people—people like me—had made her feel for years.

"I just..." I tried again, but the words felt flimsy, useless.

Before I could figure out what to say, the cafeteria manager's sharp voice sliced through the moment. "Are you two finished, or not?"

Tabassum didn't say another word. She just turned back to her task, her posture rigid, as she began working as if our conversation had never happened.

I hesitated before following suit. I wanted to say something. Anything. To make things right. But maybe she didn't want my words.

And maybe, for the first time, I needed to accept that silence was the only thing I deserved.

____

I tapped my fingers against the edge of my notebook. I had just finished my first practice exam.

With finals lurking around the corner, he had insisted I complete a mock test for each subject. I didn't want to. Not because I didn't feel prepared, but because I was terrified of letting him down. Of letting myself down. After all the hardwork, what if I don't do well. I tried to get out of it, but when had Varun ever just listened to me?

Time stretched as Varun's eyes read through each word I had written. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration, lips pressed together in a firm line. He was taking forever. Or at least, it felt that way. His pen hovered over the page, pausing whether or not to destroy my self-esteem with a big, fat X.

I huffed dramatically, shifting on the bed. "Are you almost done?"

"Have some patience," he murmured without even looking up.

"You are always yelling at me for being slow and look at you now. You're so unbearably slow," I shot back, flopping onto the bed in exaggerated frustration. I craned my neck to peek at his notes, but he smoothly moved the paper out of my sight. "I bet you finished checking my answers and now you're just making me suffer."

His eyes widened before a smirk tugged at his lips. The tiniest, tiniest hint of amusement.

"Wait!" I gasped. "You seriously are."

He finally broke, shaking his head with a scoff. "Fine. You got 47 out of 50." He handed my paper back. "Much better than last time."

I snatched it so fast the edges crumpled in my grip. 47 out of 50? I blinked at the number, half expecting it to change anytime now. This was practically a miracle. A high distinction considering Varun was a tougher grader than any of our actual teachers.

I grinned, looking at him triumphantly. "Admit it, you're impressed."

"I'm... pleasantly surprised," he said, but the teasing glint in his eyes.

I gawked. "That's your version of high praise? I expected at least a slow clap."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Why stop at slow claps? Should I also arrange a marching band?"

I tapped my chin as if considering his option. "Actually, no. It would be too much for a mock exam. A standing ovation would suffice though."

His lips twitched. "Demanding, aren't we?"

"How about a hug?" I asked. The moment the words left my mouth, my brain short-circuited. There was seriously something wrong with me. Had I used up all my brain power doing this exam, I didn't know what to say when and where. Idiot! Idiot! I wanted to scream, hurl myself away from this situation. Maybe I wouldn't have to do that. I could just die out of embarassment.

Varun's expression froze, eyes widening in visible shock. "What?"

"A high-five!" I blurted out, my voice an octave too high. "I meant a high-five. What did you hear?"

Varun blinked, then let out a quiet chuckle. "I... I thought you said...never mind. Yeah sure." He raised his hand, and I slapped my palm against his, letting my fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary.

I cleared my throat, desperate to recover. "So... I guess this means you have to reward me now."

"Reward you?" He scoffed. "I just gave you a high-five."

I pouted, undeterred. "That's not a real reward. How about permission to slack off for a few days?"

Varun exhaled sharply, shaking his head with mock exasperation. "Nice try. Our exams are in two weeks. How can you even think about slacking off now?"

"Easily," I said. "Watch me. Or we could-"

"No need," he said, rolling his eyes. "Your reward is me assigning you another quiz so you don't lose momentum."

I gasped, clutching my chest in mock betrayal. "I should've known you'd be cruel about this."

"Just think of it as my way of showing I believe in you." His voice was softer. It felt nice to hear that he believed in me. I smiled. All though it immediately disappeared when he handed me another set of papers.

I pouted exaggertedly and grabbed the papers from him.

An hour later, my brain was fried, my fingers cramped, and my will to live severely diminished. I stretched my arms over my head with a dramatic sigh. "Varun, I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying," he said without looking up from his notes. "You're just being dramatic."

I flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Same thing."

"You still have a few questions left," he reminded me.

I groaned. "I'll finish them in a minute. But first, I need a break. A real one. Let's do something fun."

Varun finally looked at me, skeptical. "Define fun. I am not going out with you for ice-cream."

Giggling, I sat up. "Don't worry. No ice-cream. Let's play a game?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You play that stupid Candycrush game you usually play on your breaks."

"First of all, it's not stupid. It requires skills. Like a lot of skills. And secondly, I can play it anytime. Come on! Just 15 minutes and then I promise I'll focus."

He sighed and then sighed again and then once more for good measure before grunting a "Fine."

"I didn't hear you," I teased, cupping my ear dramatically and leaning closer to him. His gaze flickered up, eyes narrowing with mild suspicion, and I couldn't help but smile at how seriously he was taking my nonsense. When he continued glaring at me, I pouted, straightened up, and added, "We are going to be playing truths and dares with a twist."

"Twist?" he asked, his brow lifting.

"Yup!" I nodded, barely able to suppress my grin. "I'll ask you questions and you have to answer whatever comes to your mind. And the twist is, every time you refuse to answer, you have to do something I say." I tried to keep my tone casual, but I was secretly giddy.

He stared at me, the wheels clearly turning in his head. A long silence passed as he considered the offer. I was sure he was weighing whether indulging me was worth the trouble. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and then another one. "Okay. But you better promise me that you'll actually focus afterward."

I made a show of nodding earnestly. "Of course! I'm going to be so focused, you won't even–"

"Ask your questions before I change my mind," he said, interrupting me.

I cleared my throat, dragging out the moment for a little more dramatic effect. "What's your favorite color?"

He looked skeptcially at me as if wondering whether this game was going to be actually this easy.

"Come on! It's rapid fire," I snapped my fingers. "The whole point of this game is to answer without thinking too much."

"Blue."

"Your favorite movie?"

"Most of Mahesh Babu's movies. I could watch them at any time."

I frowned. "Who?"

His mouth twitched in the faintest smile. "He's a popular Telugu actor."

I wasn't sure if he was being serious or just trying to mess with me. "Ohhh..." I tried to sound like I was intrigued, even though I had no clue who Mahesh Babu was. Damn it, why didn't I know this?

"Favorite food?" I quickly moved on before he lost interest.

"Sev puri," he answered with a nonchalant shrug.

"It's so many calories, no? Butttt... it's so yummy so who cares about that." I laughed. "Biggest fear?"

He didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, and for a brief second, he looked like he was considering brushing it off, but then he let out a breath, his voice quiet. "Not succeeding. Not achieving what I've set out to do."

I studied him for a moment, my tone shifting to something more sincere. "You should find another fear, because you're going to succeed. You've got this, alright?"

"Okay," he murmured with a curt nod.

"If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?" I asked, trying to shift the mood back to the rapid-fire rhythm.

He paused, his expression softening as his eyes drifted away, seemingly lost in thought. "Somewhere warm... with white sand, clear blue water," he said quietly, his voice almost distant, as though he was seeing the place in his mind. "I had a picture of it once, in one of my notebooks. I don't even remember where I found it or why I kept it. It just... felt so far out of reach, you know? But, I guess that's where I'd want to go."

"Your dream woman?" I asked, a mischievous glint in my eye.

He didn't even hesitate. "Pass."

"Okay then sing me a song."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I said with a grin, crossing my arms over my chest. "You either tell me about your dream woman or sing a song. Your choice."

"You're joking." He shook his head vigorously. "You're crazy. I'm not doing that."

I leaned forward, practically rubbing my hands together with glee. "Rules are rules. What's it going to be? The woman of your dreams or a performance for me?"

He cleared his throat, like he was preparing himself for something ridiculously painful. "Aah... Aah..."

I pressed my lips together, stifling a laugh. "So just so I know what to expect here... Are you trying to sing or are you trying to answer the question?"

He took a deep breath. "Fine. Someone who is... smart, independent, confident and organized. Someone who knows who she is and what she wants in life. And—" He stopped himself, eyes darting to the side for a split second. "Someone who can make me laugh, even when I don't want to."

I couldn't help the warmth that spread through me at his words. I could do that. If he let me, I'd make him laugh every single minute of his day—no matter what it took. Whether I had to learn every joke or make a complete fool of myself, I'd do it.

Once we wrapped up my questions, Varun immediately brought me back to reality. He pushed the quiz paper in front of me, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, time to focus."

—

I practically bounced down the hallway, my heart thudding. Reaching Tara's dorm room, I knocked rapidly. I practically didn't stop knocking till she opened her door.

The door finally swung open to reveal Tara's face, her eyes wide with alarm.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice tight with worry. "God, Sanjs—is someone hurt? What happened?"

I blinked, momentarily thrown by her reaction. "What? No—everything's fine," I said, pushing past her into her room. "I have something exciting to tell you."

Tara closed the door with a soft click, pressing her palm against her chest. "Oh my God, you scared me half to death. The way you were pounding on my door—I thought someone had died or something."

"Forget all that," I said, waving my hand dismissively through the air. I sank onto her bed and patted the space beside me. "This is more important." I pulled out my notebook, the pages covered in my hurried handwriting, arrows and circles and stars marking important points.

Tara lowered herself beside me, her brow furrowed as she took the notebook from my outstretched hands. Her eyes darted across the pages, her expression shifting from confusion to concern as she read my notes. "What exactly am I looking at?"

I leaned forward, unable to contain myself. "I asked Varun about his dream woman—everything he's ever wanted in a partner. His ideal love story, his perfect date, all of his favorite things," I explained, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "And I wrote down every single detail from his answers and everything I have observed and learnt of him so far."

"Okaayy..." Tara drawled. "And this section here. What is this supposed to be?"

I moved closer, my shoulder pressing against hers. "That's my transformation plan," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Every step I need to take to become the woman he wants. The woman he deserves." My eyes scanned the list I'd spent a lot of time crafting. "What do you think? It's brilliant, right?"

Tara closed the notebook slowly. She turned to face me. "Sanjs," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Do you want me to be honest with you, or do you just want me to support you blindly?"

My stomach dropped. "You don't like the idea," I said, my voice small.

Tara licked her lips and shook her head.

"But why?" I demanded, my voice cracking. "I've thought of everything. I've planned it all out."

"Because," she said, her gaze never leaving mine, "You're trying to erase yourself to become someone else's fantasy. That's not love, Sanjs. That's self-destruction disguised as devotion."

"You don't understand," I insisted, my fingers fidgeting restlessly. "He's different. He doesn't like the real me. But we have this connection and it's very special. I can feel it. I just need him to see it too."

"Let me ask you something," Tara said, her voice softening. "What are you really hoping for here? A fleeting moment of his attention, or something that could last?"

"I don't know," I confessed.

"Think about it," she urged, her eyes searching mine. "If you contort yourself to become this mirror image of what he thinks he wants, you're not just lying to him; you're betraying yourself too. He knows you, Sanjs. The real you. No one can keep up a performance forever. Eventually, the mask slips, and then what? You'll be left with fragments of yourself you don't even recognize."

"But I want him to like me," I repeated, feeling like a petulant child.

"How do you know he doesn't like you?" she asked.

"I just know it," I insisted, wrapping my arms around myself. "When he looks at me, I can feel it. Sometimes I feel like he is just tolerating me and once we aren't forced to interact, he will just forget me and move on with his life."

"Because he isn't as vocal or flamboyant as the other guys you've been with?" Tara pressed, "Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve, Sanjs."

I chewed on my bottom lip. "I guess," I admitted.

"And not everyone loves the same way. We all have different ways of expressing ourselves," she said, soothingly. "In our circles, we have seen love stories are usually loud and all-consuming. We see dramatic declarations and over the top grand gestures, but sometimes. Sometimes love is quiet. It comes with the smallest gestures and in the most ordinary moments."

I felt hot tears welling up. "So you're saying that I should forget him?"

"No, of course not!" Tara exclaimed, gripping my shoulders. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm telling you to be brave enough to confess your feelings for him. Your real feelings, coming from the real you." Her voice softened as she continued, "You can definitely use everything you've learned about him, but not to change yourself. Use it to connect with him authentically."

"Just know when he rejects me. You're going to have to watch me fall apart. And you'll be the one picking up the pieces, holding me while I sob, all the while I keep repeating that 'I told you so.'"

She laughed and pulled me into a hug. "Done!"

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and moved away from her. "So," I said, my voice still raspy from crying. "Are you ready for your dress rehearsal tomorrow?"

Tara allowed me the change of subject. She tucked her legs beneath her on the bed, fidgeting with a loose thread on her blanket. "Honestly..." she began. "I'm kind of terrified." She looked up at me. "What if I forget everything the moment I step on stage? What if everyone realizes I don't belong there?"

"You are going to be absolutely amazing," I said and fully meant it. "Not just good—amazing. Even Saksham has been praising the way you have improved."

A small, grateful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I really hope you're right. This role means a lot to me."

"Anyway," I said, standing up and collecting my notebook. "I should let you get some rest so you can be brilliant tomorrow. You need your beauty sleep."

As I reached the door, Tara called out to me. "Sanjs?" The sound of my name made me turn. She was leaning forward. "Whatever you decide about Varun—I want to know. I want to help." Her eyes locked with mine. "Not with changing who you are, but with showing him who you really are."

"I promise," I said. "If I don't chicken out, of course."

Tara smirked, bumping my shoulder. "Oh, you will chicken out. But I'll be here to shove you right back in."

We dissolved into laughter before we parted ways.

Still grinning, I hugged my notebook tighter as I walked back to my room, my mind still buzzing with excitement. But just as I turned the corner, I spotted Maya heading straight toward me.

She crossed her arms over her chest like she had already won whatever game she was about to play. "Are you coming back from visiting your new pathetic little BFF?" she asked, her voice dripping with condescension.

I didn't rise to the bait. Didn't even look at her. Instead, I kept walking.

Maya, of course, wasn't done. "Make sure you wish her all the luck for tomorrow," she called after me, her tone deliberately sweet. "She'll need it."

I exhaled sharply, annoyance prickling under my skin.

Still, I couldn't help myself. Just as I reached my door, I glanced over my shoulder and said, "Don't worry, she'll be fine because unlike some people, she actually has talent."

Then, without waiting for a reaction, I marched inside my room, shutting the door with a satisfying click.