Four guys connected by family.
Four girls connected by friendship.
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"Dont give me that look." I say, trying to break the eye contact.
"Like what?" He steps closer.
"Like if I ask you to burn this world, you...
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Song: Thug le🎶
Economics was not for the faint of heart.
Nor was it for the under-caffeinated, the sleep-deprived, or—apparently—those of us who were secretly engaged to the human equivalent of a tax audit.
I sat stiffly in my seat, surrounded by the warm hum of other students whispering and yawning through the post-lunch haze.
My notebook lay open in front of me, pages untouched, pen resting limply between my fingers like even it had given up on life.
I hadn’t heard a word Professor Kran had said in the last ten minutes.
Because my brain? My brain had decided to put on a full-blown Broadway musical titled: “You’re Getting Engaged to Faraz Next Weekend—Congratulations, You’re Screwed.”
Starring me. As the tragic heroine.
And Faraz? As the guy I wanted to launch into space.
My stomach twisted uncomfortably as the weight of it all settled in again.
Next weekend.
In exactly seven days, I was going to be officially engaged to a boy who once got into a physical fight with a pigeon because it pooped on his sneakers.
An actual fight. With a pigeon.
And now we were betrothed.
I almost laughed. Then I almost cried. Then I just sat there, blinking blankly at Professor Kran, who was still talking like her PowerPoint slides were the Word of God.
“…You will need proper citations, statistical backing, and your conclusions must reflect independent thought,” she droned, clicking to the next slide with the enthusiasm of someone filing their taxes.
The class moaned in synchronized agony. One girl two rows down actually let her head fall dramatically onto her desk with a soft thud.
I blinked out of my spiral just in time to catch the full brunt of Kran’s smile. And by smile, I meant the smug upturn of her lips that said: I enjoy watching you suffer.
“This assignment will be individual,” she said. “You’ll submit a report on post-liberalization economic impacts in The subcontinent—referencing both domestic and international factors. I don’t want summaries. I want analysis. Depth. Structure. Originality.”
Translation: You’re going to cry.
“Your deadline is next Friday. I expect academic excellence.”
Next Friday.
The day before the engagement.
Of course it was.
The universe had a messed-up sense of humor.
A low sigh beside me pulled my attention—and there he was. Mr. Dull & Broody himself.
