Dev's P.O.V.

I gather all the courage I can muster and approach Raj, my heart racing as if it's trying to escape my chest. His eyes, those familiar emerald pools that used to bring me comfort, meet mine, and a wave of longing crashes over me. I've missed him so desperately - every touch, every soft-spoken word, everything about him.

"Raj," I say his name, my voice trembling under the weight of unsaid words, "How are you?"

He remains silent, his expression akin to a fortress sealed shut, leaving me in the cold abyss of his indifference. It stings, but it's a pain I understand. He doesn't want to talk to me.

Summoning every ounce of bravery I can muster, I try again, my voice quivering under the burden of our strained relationship. "Look, if you don't want to be my mentor, I completely understand. You don't have to avoid me. Just tell me outright. You don't even need to discuss it with the principal. I'll figure it out. After what I've done..."

Raj slices through my sentence with words dripping with bitterness, a stark departure from the softness that once defined him. "It's always about you, Dev. It's always been about you, hasn't it? And why? Why can you distance yourself from people, while others can't?" His words hit me like a hurricane, leaving me utterly stunned.

Raj steps closer, his eyes now ablaze with anger, a sharp contrast to the warmth they once held. His voice drips with the bitterness of unspoken emotions. "You know what your problem is, Dev?" He pauses for a moment, letting the words hang heavily in the air. "You're selfish and self-centered. You've never taken the time to understand what the people around you are going through. You've never truly cared about your so-called friends."

I feel his words pierce my heart like a thousand daggers, each one a reminder of my shortcomings. It's as if he's pulling out the darkest corners of my soul and laying them bare for me to see. The pain is almost unbearable, and I struggle to hold back tears. In Raj's eyes, I see the reflection of my own anguish, and it tears me apart. This is a confrontation I can't escape, one that forces me to confront my own demons and shortcomings.

Raj continues, his voice quivering with a mix of anger and hurt. "Do you even know what Arya has endured? No, you don't, because you simply don't care." His gaze doesn't waver, and I can sense the disappointment in his tone. "You were supposed to be there for us, for me..."

As Raj's words hang in the air, the weight of his accusations presses down on me, and I find it hard to breathe. It's as if the truth of my own failings is finally being laid bare, and I can't escape the guilt that washes over me.

"But you weren't," Raj's voice breaks, the pain in his words echoing the pain in my own heart. "Because you don't care, Dev. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You don't care about anyone's feelings, you don't care what others are going through. You just think that you're the only one in pain, the only one with problems, the only unfortunate person in the world, and everyone else is living a fairytale."

As Raj's cutting words hang in the air, I feel like I've lost everything, and it's a pain that cuts deeper than any physical wound. The Raj I once knew, the one who used to care for me, love me, and cherish me, now seems like a distant memory. The warmth in his eyes has turned into a frosty contempt, and it's a harsh reality I can no longer deny.

When Raj walks past me, pushing me aside with his shoulder, it's as if he's pushing me out of his life for good. I stand there, stunned and immobile, as the person who meant the world to me continues to distance himself. The bitterness in his actions stings like salt in an open wound, and I realize that I've lost not only his affection but his respect.

My heart aches with regret as I watch him walk away. I knew deep down that I had hurt him, that I had pushed him away, but a part of me hoped that he would still want me, that our connection was strong enough to withstand my mistakes. Now, it's painfully clear that our love has transformed into despise, and Raj's hate is like a dagger in my chest.

I stand there, my vision blurred by unshed tears, feeling the weight of my actions crushing me. The realization that I've lost the person I cared about most in the world is almost too much to bear. Raj was my anchor, my guiding light, and now he's become a distant star that I can only gaze at from afar, forever out of reach.

I walk down the hallway from the main building. The echo of my footsteps resonates with the heaviness in my heart. The evening sun casts long, melancholic shadows across the almost empty schoolyard, painting the world in hues of orange and gold. The beauty of the sunset is lost on me; my thoughts are consumed by Raj's words.

"Selfish." The word reverberates in my mind. Am I really that self-centered? Do I truly not care about anyone around me? The accusations sting, and a deep sense of self-doubt gnaws at me. Have I ever taken the time to understand the people in my life? Have I truly cared about my friends?

As I continue on my path, heading towards the central library, I can't help but mull over Raj's statement. The weight of his words presses down on my shoulders, like an invisible burden I can't shake. I question my own actions and the choices I've made.

Raj's family, his fears, his problems... What do I really know about them? It hits me like a sledgehammer - I've never taken the time to delve into his life, to understand what he's going through. I've been so wrapped up in my own struggles that I've failed to see his. Regret gnaws at me like a hungry beast.

Aman, the enigmatic figure who silently offers his support, yet keeps his own pains hidden. I've never probed further, never asked about his mother, his problems, or the reasons for his silence. It strikes me that I've been content with the surface of our interactions, never delving into the depths of his soul.

And then there's Ajit, with his sassy language and his vibrant personality. Have I ever truly understood him? Have I ever taken the time to see beyond the flamboyant exterior to the person he is inside? I've never ventured to know his hopes, fears, or dreams. I've taken his friendship for granted, never realizing that he, too, can have his own inner battles to fight.

I can't shake the feeling that I've been living in a self-centered bubble, oblivious to the struggles and emotions of those around me. As I stop in the quiet schoolyard and gaze up at the sky, a profound sense of guilt and regret washes over me. The world feels heavy, as if it's trying to crush me under its weight.

The evening sun sinks lower on the horizon, casting longer shadows, and I know that I have a long journey ahead to make amends, to truly understand the people in my life, and to prove that I can care as deeply as I've always wanted to.

I push open the heavy wooden doors of the central library, and a wave of tranquility washes over me. The soft glow of the evening sun spills through the tall windows, casting a warm, reddish hue that paints the rows of bookshelves with a gentle, almost ethereal light. Only a few students dot the otherwise serene space, their hushed whispers and the occasional rustling of pages form a comforting backdrop to the solitude.

My footsteps echo softly on the polished linoleum floor as I make my way deeper into the library. The scent of old books and the promise of quiet contemplation fill the air, making it the perfect sanctuary for introspection.

I reach my usual table tucked away in a cozy corner of the library, and there they are, Aman and Ajit. Ajit is in the midst of an animated conversation, his expressive gestures and adding a touch of liveliness to the serene surroundings. Ajit's laughter, a melodious note of mirth, fills the air as he regales us with one of his amusing anecdotes. Aman, though not saying much, has a soft smile playing on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of Ajit's company.

The evening sun bathes our table in a warm, golden light, making the world outside seem distant and inconsequential. I take my seat, a sense of familiarity and belonging washing over me as I join them.

I settle into my seat at the library table, surrounded by the comforting embrace of books and my friends. Ajit can't resist breaking the tranquility with a sly grin on his face.

"So, Dev, you missed out on a movie night last night," he says, leaning in closer. His voice, a mixture of playful teasing and curiosity, is impossible to ignore.

Aman, ever the silent observer, has a faint smile playing on his lips, as if he already knows where this conversation is headed. I sigh inwardly, knowing that Ajit is about to launch a humorous debate over whose movie choice has reigned supreme. It seems like these movie nights have become a battleground for their cinematic tastes.

Ajit leans back in his chair, clearly reveling in the impending showdown. "So, Dev, the ultimate question. Whose movie was better last night, mine or Aman's?"

I chuckle softly, the tension from my earlier encounter with Raj slowly dissipating. "Well," I begin, trying to sound diplomatic, "the better movie is the one that makes me doze off twice in chemistry class today."

Aman's lips curl into a rare, full-fledged smile, acknowledging my attempt at humor. He nods in agreement, seemingly content with my response.

He says in mock seriousness, "Aman's. Gotcha."

Ajit goes back to his sketching, his hand gliding over the paper with artistic finesse. With a mischievous grin, I lean in a little closer to him and ask, "Do you ever go to classes, Ajit? Or did you join this school just for unlimited access to this library?"

Ajit pauses his sketching for a moment, raising an eyebrow in mock contemplation. Then, with a playful twinkle in his eye, he replies, "Classes, darling, are for those who can't appreciate the fine art of library lounging. Besides, who needs calculus when you can have the classics? I'm just here for the culture."

We both burst into laughter, and I put my backpack on the table.

I place my backpack on the table, the familiar weight of it grounding me. As I unzip it, Raj's words continue to resonate in the recesses of my mind. "Selfish." The accusation lingers like a shadow, a constant reminder of my own failings. I've kept my internal turmoil hidden from my friends; they don't need to see the cracks in my façade. I can't afford to be...selfish...that's what Raj labeled me. Selfish all the time.

Turning my attention to Aman, I'm struck by how he's completely absorbed in his chemistry textbook. He's in his own world, a world of equations and molecules, seemingly impervious to external chaos. It's both admirable and somewhat baffling how he can remain so focused.

I clear my throat, breaking the silence that surrounds us, and Aman finally lifts his eyes from the textbook. His gaze meets mine, and there's always something unspoken understanding in those depths.

"So, what are we supposed to do in our chemistry assignment?" I inquire, trying to keep my voice steady.

As Aman slides the inorganic chemistry revision sheet towards me, my fingers clutch it tightly. The stark white paper bears the ominous title: "Inorganic Chemistry Revision Sheet." It feels like a formidable opponent, ready to wage war against my already overloaded brain. I glance at the five pages, each lined with questions that span the entire inorganic chemistry section.

My heart races as I flip through the pages, revealing a barrage of challenging questions. The weight of it all settles heavily in my chest, and I can't help but exclaim, "Sixty questions?!" My voice emerges louder than intended, a declaration that echoes through the hushed library.

In an instant, every head in the library swivels toward our table. I feel a blush creeping up my neck, and my cheeks warm with embarrassment. Aman nods offering me a reassuring smile.

Ajit leans closer and whispers, "Calm down, baby. You may not survive this inorganic onslaught, but at least go down in style."

I let out a soft chuckle at Ajit's sassy remark, a brief escape from the anxiety that gnaws at me.

But as I shift my attention back to the inorganic chemistry revision sheet in front of me, that fleeting moment of relief evaporates. Every question on the sheet seems familiar as if I've seen them before, but they remain elusive, like a fading dream upon waking. I know I have studied this, I must have, but it's as if the knowledge has slipped through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but fragments of understanding.

I furrow my brow, the creases on my forehead deepening, as I struggle to make sense of the questions. It's like trying to grasp smoke; the harder I reach, the more it slips away.

Just when I feel a pang of helplessness settling in, a soft movement catches my eye. Aman, without uttering a word, slides his notebook closer to mine. He taps his finger gently on the page, directing my gaze to the neatly written notes and the beginnings of the assignment. His eyes meet mine for a moment, and there's an unspoken understanding that passes between us.

I can't help but smile. Aman's silent gesture is sweeter than any words he could have spoken. It's his way of saying, "I've got your back."

A warm smile spreads across my face. Aman's silent gesture is sweeter than any words he could have spoken.

Aman begins to explain the complex world of molecule shapes, his finger tracing the diagrams and lines on the page. And even though his sentences are short and to the point, each one is a lifeline, helping me navigate the intricacies of BCl3 and PH3.

"Molecule shapes depend on electron pairs. BCl3 adopts a trigonal planar due to boron's three valence electrons and three chlorines. They form sigma bonds, creating a triangular shape it shapes."

I nod along, absorbing every word. Aman's voice might be scarce, but his knowledge is vast. He moves on to explain PH3 phosphine and how phosphorus's valence electrons create a different molecular structure. His finger points to the lone pair, illustrating the distortion it causes.

"On the other hand, in PH3, phosphorus has five valence electrons. Three of these electrons are used to form sigma bonds with three hydrogen atoms, similar to BCl3. However, in PH3, the remaining two electrons are in the form of a lone pair, which repels bonding electron pairs. This repulsion causes the hydrogen atoms to be pushed closer together, resulting in a distorted trigonal pyramidal shape."

He concludes, "The difference in shape between BCl3 and PH3 can be attributed to the presence of a lone pair in PH3, leading to a distortion in the electron pair arrangement and resulting in a trigonal pyramidal shape."

Aman continues his explanation, guiding me through the intricacies of chemistry. As he finishes, a grin spreads across my face.

"Wow, Aman," I chuckle, "did you just speak all that at once? So many long sentences, so many big words."

Aman's cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink, but he doesn't meet my eyes, and his blush deepens. He fidgets with his pencil, a rare display of shyness. His response is as brief as ever, "I tried."

I can't help but laugh at his modesty, appreciating his effort to help me, even if it meant diving into a sea of long sentences and big words. It's just amazing how he's always willing to step out of his comfort zone for me...for friends and what have I done in return? Am I really self-centred?