04

4. Not Just A Professor

Hey Dreamers,

Welcome to a new chapter of Hidden Affection.

Happy Reading!

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Chapter 4

Don’t mistake this silence for peace — this is the silence before the storm.

For now, Meher was out of class for the entire period. Courtesy? None other than Mr. Athrav Desai. Yes, he kept her out for a full one hour and thirty minutes — and her classmates knew it well — this wasn’t over. No, this time bomb was just ticking... and when it explodes, it’ll be big.

Athrav was in the middle of teaching when a knock echoed on the classroom door. He looked up, slightly annoyed, and gestured for the visitor to speak.

“Good morning, sir. Dean sir ne aapko office mein bulaya hai,” the peon announced politely.

Athrav checked his watch and replied coolly, “Class ke baad aata hoon. Thank you.”

The peon nodded and left. Athrav frowned slightly. Why would the Dean call me now? He already knows I’ve rejoined college today. I need to know what’s going on.

He concluded his class with a crisp wrap-up. “Okay students, that’s it for today. We’ll continue our topic tomorrow. Meanwhile, I hope you’ll do your own research and share your thoughts with the class. Thank you.”

With that, the charming professor strode out of the classroom — straight toward the Dean’s office.

And Meher? Don’t you dare think she’s one of those girls who quietly walks away after being insulted. Oh no. Meher Sharma is the kind of girl who makes you regret ever crossing her. So just sit tight, because the real drama is about to unfold.

As soon as Athrav stepped into the Dean’s office, his jaw clenched, and his fists tightened.

There she was.

Exactly the person he didn’t want to see — not today, not after everything. Today’s drama quota had already been exceeded, and her presence? It was just throwing oil into the fire.

Yes, you guessed it — Meher Sharma, standing there in all her so-called innocence. One look at her, and anyone would believe she was the sweetest, most harmless girl in the world.

But Athrav knew better.

And seeing her here? He had a sinking feeling. He could already imagine the stunt she must have pulled to get the Dean involved. She brought the matter straight to the Dean’s office.

Typical Meher.

Athrav was done playing nice. And this time? He wasn’t going to let her off easy.

Athrav clenched his jaw tightly, determined not to explode — not here, not in front of the Dean and the board members seated inside the office. The Dean welcomed him politely and gestured toward the chair opposite him.

Without breaking eye contact, Athrav threw a glare at Meher. If looks could kill, she’d be six feet under by now. But Meher, unbothered as ever, stood there looking like the embodiment of innocence. Not even a flicker of nervousness on her face.

Oh, come on, if a professor like Athrav Desai had ever taught me, I wouldn’t waste a single minute not admiring him. But here was Meher Sharma — ignoring the hotness in human form like it meant nothing. This girl, seriously, was built differently.

Athrav took his seat and spoke in a composed yet firm tone, “Sir, aapne bulaya? Kuch kaam tha? Aur sab board members bhi yahan hain… kuch serious lag raha hai.” He deliberately ended his sentence while looking straight at Meher.

The Dean gave a mild smile, already sensing this was going to be far from easy. “So, Athrav sir, how was your first class after your break?” he asked, as if trying to ease into the conversation.

But Athrav wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. His temper was dangerously close to the edge, and he preferred cutting straight to the point. “Sir, I’m sure you didn’t call me here to ask that very important question, right?” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “So please, say clearly what you want to say.”

The Dean closed his eyes momentarily, letting out a sigh. Then he glanced at Meher with a look that screamed, What have you dragged me into now?

Meher shrugged her shoulders innocently, like she was saying, Well, now you handle it, sir. Athrav caught the silent exchange and raised an eyebrow.

“Sir,” he interrupted, turning to face Meher, “before you continue, I want to say something.”

He shifted in his seat slightly, now fully facing Meher. His voice calm, but each word cut like a blade. “So, Miss Sharma… don’t prove my assumptions right. Because if you do, I promise — this year will become a lesson you never saw coming.”

Meher stared at him, half annoyed, half wondering what she’d done in life to deserve him as her professor. Seriously, was no one else left? Hitler must’ve retired or something.

But Meher wasn’t one to stay quiet either. She opened her mouth to say something sharp, but the Dean intervened.

“Athrav sir,” the Dean began, turning serious, “She filed a complaint. That you asked her to leave the class. That too on the very first day. Is that true?”

Oh, wow, Meher thought, that’s how he’s going to ask? Like he actually doubts me?

She snapped, “Sir, this means you think I’m lying to you?”

The Dean shot her a sharp glance and subtly gestured for her to be quiet. Meher, sensing the shift in tone, stood there silently — but with a storm in her eyes.

Athrav smirked. “Yes, I did ask her to leave the class,” he admitted without hesitation. “But did she also tell you why?”

Before the Dean could respond, Meher jumped in, voice rising, “Sir, aap seedha seedha kyun nahi bol dete? Aap pehle ka badla le rahe hain na mujhse!”

Athrav’s gaze snapped to her — sharp, unwavering, intense. His voice was dangerously calm, which somehow made it worse.

“I made it very clear to you earlier, Miss Sharma,” he said, each word slow and firm, “I don’t believe in settling scores like that. You were late. And it is known to everyone here — I do not tolerate latecomers in my class.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

And just like that, the storm officially arrived.

Dean Sir cleared his throat and said gently, “Sir, we all know... but a first mistake can be forgiven, right?”

First mistake? Really? Athrav could barely hold back a laugh. If this was her first mistake, then maybe he’d been hallucinating their earlier encounters. This girl had already crossed the line once, Sorry twice — and now she had the audacity to escalate the matter to the Dean's office in front of board members?

Unbelievable.

Athrav clenched his jaw, keeping his voice calm but sharp. “Sir, I really don’t think this issue needed your attention. I had it under control.”

Another board member chimed in, trying to soften the situation. “Sir, she sometimes acts a little childish, but Meher is one of our brightest students. She's been the topper for the past two years, has won multiple medals and trophies... her record speaks for itself.”

That was it. Athrav was officially annoyed. First, Meher ruins his mood by arguing like she owns the place, and now everyone here was busy defending her like she was some helpless child.

“I really don’t understand why everyone’s so eager to defend her. I haven’t even punished her yet — so I can’t imagine the drama if I actually did. With her attitude, that day isn’t far.”

He turned his cold gaze toward Meher. “And you, Miss Sharma… what were you thinking? Dragging such a silly matter all the way here? Are you a child? And these board members left actual important work to resolve this? Unreal.”

Dean Sir sighed, clearly trying to calm things down. “Apologies, sir. Even we didn’t want it to escalate. Just forgive her this time, and let her join your class.”

And there it was. Meher, amidst all this chaos, was still thinking Well… at least there are perks to being a topper. Little did she know — her next shock was moments away.

Dean Sir said politely, trying to mediate, “Sir, on behalf of all the board members, we request you to forgive her. Just this once. We assure you, she won’t repeat it. We all take full responsibility.”

Athrav turned slowly, eyes sharp and voice clipped. “Sir, with all due respect — how can you say ‘on behalf of all the board members’ when one of them hasn't even approved it yet?”

Silence. A confused pause. Dean Sir blinked. “Sorry?”

Athrav’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “I think everyone in this room is forgetting… I am also one of the board members.”

That moment. That single line.

It hit Meher like a brick wall.

Board member? Wait. What?! HE?!

Her neck slowly turned toward him, her eyes wide — too wide. Her jaw slightly open, her mind racing at 1000 thoughts per second.

A board member? Since when? Was the universe playing some cosmic prank on her?

She had dragged one of the board members to the board itself to complain about him.

Wow. Bravo, Meher. Someone give her an award. Best plot twist written by fate.

Her brain: glitches

Her heart: dramatically flips like in a daily soap

Her soul: logs out

Meher’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and Athrav — standing there calmly — gave a smirk that screamed one thing : Yes bacha, I am.

She had dug her own grave, set it on fire, and now she was sitting inside watching the flames rise.

Of course, he had to be a board member. Why stop at professor? Why not Principal or President of India while we’re at it?

Note : Never fight with random men anywhere. They might turn out to be your teacher… and your boss… and your judge.

It was official. Her habit of messing with strangers had finally come back to bite her. And this time? The cost was high.

Athrav, seeing that he'd made his point clear, finally said — “Alright. I’ll allow her in my class. Let’s end the discussion here.”

The room breathed again. Relief swept across the room. Everyone smiled. Everyone... except Meher, who was still trying to process what the hell just happened.

She was still reeling from the previous shock: Board member. Professor. Mood-swing machine.

Dean Sir turned to her, smiling. “Meher will submit a written apology to you, Sir. That’s final.”

Written apology? Might as well tattoo Sorry on her forehead.

He looked at her — but Meher still stand there, stunned, staring at Athrav like he’d grown horns.

“Meher?” Dean Sir’s voice rose a notch. “Am I clear?”

She blinked, finally snapping out of it. “Y-yes sir…”

Athrav gave a single nod and turned to leave, but stopped near the door. Of course, he wouldn’t go without delivering the final blow. But before she could even digest what had happened — Athrav spoke again, this time directly to her, without even looking up from the file he picked up. “Oh, and Miss Sharma…”

Her head snapped up. Bad feeling. Very bad feeling.

“Apology letter. On my desk. Within half an hour.”

He paused. Then, slowly, he looked up—eyes locked directly into hers. “Not even a minute extra.”

And then… he walked towards her. Calm. Slow. Dangerous.

She instinctively took half a step back. She was standing right beside the door, her escape route clear — but somehow, her feet didn’t move.

He stopped right in front of her. And then — bent down a little. 6’3 bent down to match 5’2.

Oh no. Not the height intimidation trick. She hated this already. His eyes met hers — firm, unreadable, intense. His voice lowered — deep, unblinking. “Am I clear?”

Meher’s brain: Buffering.

Her soul: Left the chat.

She swallowed. Blinked. Nodded.

But that wasn’t enough. Not for him. “Words, Miss Sharma.” He leaned just a bit closer.

She mumbled, barely audible. “Y-yes… sir.”

That smirk. Again. The one that made her want to throw something.

And with that, he straightened up — like nothing just happened — and walked out of the room.

Leaving Meher behind, standing near the door, blinking at the space he just left behind.

Apology letter. Board member. Professor. Smirking devil. WHY HER?!

She didn’t know whether to scream, faint, or just run straight to the Himalayas.

He bent down to her level just to say that — like seriously? The height difference felt more like an insult than a fact. 6'3 vs. 5'2. Not fair, God.

She stood there like a statue — eyes wide, mouth slightly open, heart? Probably planning its own funeral.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Author’s Note : And now… presenting Meher Sharma’s inner mental meltdown. A full-blown monologue — unfiltered, unedited, and unfortunately, 100% real.

Great. Just freaking Great.

Step one: I argue with a complete stranger in the café. Step two: that stranger turns out to be my professor. Step three: like the genius I am, I drag that same professor into the Dean’s office — because obviously, I thought I was leading some academic revolution.

And now? NOW?? Oh, the plot twist of the year?

He's not just my professor.

He’s a BOARD MEMBER. Of. This. Institute.

Seriously, Bhagwan jii… kya mein hi mili thi? Apki favourite hoon, yeh toh samajh mein aata hai, but itna bhi kya pyaar? Thoda toh taras khaate.

And let’s just take a moment to relive that scene.

The height difference? He’s literally 6’3. I’m barely 5’2 on a good hair day. And this man this giant villain straight out of a thriller bends down like he’s delivering the last line before the screen cuts to black and says, “Am I clear?”

LIKE, WHO SAYS THAT? In real life?!

Why is he built like a runway model with the attitude of a villain in an action film?! And why… why… do I feel like this is just the beginning of my academic and emotional doom?

Hold on. Did he just say “apology letter” in half an hour? Half an hour?? Bhai, apology letter likhne jaa rahi hoon, CV nahi banani!

Wait — no — what am I even saying?

WHY am I apologizing?! He started it. In the cafe. With his "mind your tone" glare and "do you know who I am?" vibe.

Okay fine, he didn’t actually say that. But still! his face did. Loudly.

And I? I had to be me. Bold. Brave. Stupid.

I messed with him once. Biggest. Mistake. Of. My. Life.

Now I have Hitler 2.0 as my professor. AND he’s on the board. Wow. Bhagwan ji ne full combo pack bhej diya hai.

Note to self : Stop arguing with strangers. Especially tall, terrifying strangers. Especially ones with jawlines sharp enough to cut your GPA.

And now Meher once again handed it over to your author because she is in a hurry. Of course, she had to write an apology letter.

So within 20 minutes, she was standing in front of his cabin.

But wait — just when she was about to open the door, he opened it himself… and our Meher, poor girl, froze in her place, the letter still clutched in her hand. Her brain? Completely blank.

She had no idea what to do now.

Should she wish him?

Should she say sorry?

Should she hand over the letter and run?

Or should she just disappear into thin air?

Why now? Why did he have to open the door at this exact moment? What do I do now? Do I wish him good morning? No no, not now, it’s too late for that. Do I just say sorry and hand him the letter? Should I smile? Or just vanish into the wall behind me? Ugh, why didn’t I just email it? This is a disaster!

She stood there like a statue, mouth half-open, trying to form words that refused to come out.

Meanwhile, Athrav’s eyes scanned her from head to toe. The way she stood frozen with that letter in hand — her expressions shifting between nervous, confused, and outright panicked — was nothing short of entertaining.

Well well… Look at her. Jhansi ki Rani suddenly turned into Miss Bheegi Billi. So this is what guilt looks like on her? Interesting. That must be the apology letter. Finally. And that confused expression? Priceless. I should be annoyed… but somehow, I’m not. In fact… I’m kind of enjoying this. Should I let her speak or just enjoy this awkward silence a little more?

He didn’t say a word.

Just kept looking at her.

While she kept overthinking every possible way to start the conversation… and failed miserably

A smirk automatically formed on his face — not just because of the letter, but because today, for some reason, he was truly enjoying this moment.

Or should we say… he was thoroughly satisfied with the expression Meher wore on her face?

After collecting what felt like a mountain of courage, she finally managed to speak.

“S… Sorry… Sir… this apology letter,” she said, her voice trembling.

She stammered — and she hated that. Why was he dominating her like this? And worse, why was it working? That’s exactly what she never wanted.

Athrav took a step forward.

Reflexively, she took one back.

Another step.

She moved again.

And again.

Until her back touched the cold corridor wall. Her eyes shut tightly in nervousness, the letter still crushed in her hand. What was even happening?

Athrav, on the other hand, was enjoying this. Every tiny expression that danced across her face — nervous, flustered, confused, annoyed — was oddly satisfying to him.

He leaned slightly closer, not enough to make her uncomfortable, but just enough to make sure she could feel the weight of his presence.

“Look at me.” His voice — calm, deep, and laced with a dangerous edge — sliced through her nervous silence.

And just like that, her eyes snapped open and met his.

God… Why am I listening to him? Why does his voice feel like someone dipped it in slow poison? And why, oh why, am I obeying him when I don’t even want to?

Athrav bent a little more — just enough to close that small, unspoken gap between them. His gaze locked on hers, intense but never crossing a line.

“Miss Sharma… mujhe umeed hai aapne apni iss galti se bahut kuch seekha hoga. Agli baar aisa kuch nahi hona chahiye. I’m forgiving you — for the first and the last time.”

Her breath caught.

She couldn't take it anymore.

Just nodded quickly, eyes betraying panic, and tried to leave. But how could she, when he was still standing there — just close enough to block her path, intentionally or not?

Athrav noticed. Of course he did. He always did.

Without a single word, he stepped back — just enough to let her breathe. But his eyes? They didn’t budge. Still fixed on her like she was the only thing in existence. Unblinking. Unapologetic.

One second he was all set to eat her raw with that dangerous smirk, and the next, voilà — he’s the gentleman letting her go.

What the hell was that? Was this some new psychological warfare? A silent game of dominance? Or worse… was he enjoying this?

She didn’t wait to find out. Not one more second. Heart racing, mind spinning, Meher made her great escape, almost bolting down the corridor like her life depended on it.

And just as she turned the corner and vanished out of sight…

Athrav finally moved.

He ran a hand through those annoyingly perfect hair of his, rolled his neck like he was releasing tension, and… exhaled.

That’s it. No words. Just a breath.

But wait — what was happening to him?

No really, dear reader — what was that? And why does it feel like this was far from over?

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Thank you for reading.

Your presence here means the world to me.

Until next chapter, stay safe and keep dreaming.

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