The Two Faces of Arnav
The morning sun had barely risen when Arnav placed two heavy bags of groceries into the hands of an old man at the corner shop.
“Thank you, son,” the man said, smiling.
Arnav just nodded, pulled his hoodie up, and walked away without a word. He never stayed long enough to receive praise. That was Arnav—kind when no one was watching, cold when everyone was.
At college, the mask returned. Students whispered when he entered the lecture hall.
“There he is, the ice-king,” someone muttered.
“Don’t even bother saying hi,” another laughed softly.
Arnav ignored them, slipping into his usual seat at the last row. He didn’t mind the names. Being misunderstood was easier than being betrayed.
“Hey, Arnav!” a cheerful voice interrupted. Rishi and Karan plopped themselves down beside him.
“Did you know the professor dreams about you at night?” Karan grinned.
“Yeah,” Rishi added, “he wakes up yelling, ‘Arnav, solve this equation!’”
Arnav’s jaw tightened. “Shut up.”
“Cold as always,” Karan laughed, unfazed.
Minutes later, Professor Menon walked in, chalk in hand. “This problem,” he announced, writing a complicated equation on the board, “is a tricky one. Arnav, would you like to try?”
All eyes turned to him. Arnav rose calmly, solved it step by step, and sat back down. The professor beamed. “Brilliant as always. Everyone, learn from him.”
Behind him, Rishi whispered, “See? Teacher’s pet.”
For the first time that day, Arnav almost smiled. Almost.
But when Anisha raised her hand hesitantly, asking for an explanation, he felt his chest tighten. She was beautiful, smart, and the only person who could make his mask feel heavy. He explained the problem to her in his calm voice, never letting his eyes reveal the feelings he buried deep.
