Chapter 2: Cat Pillow Confessions

In about three seconds, I accepted this earth-shattering news: Arjun is sharing senses with my cat pillow. And I can hear his inner voice.

Honestly, if my mother ever heard this story, she’d call a baba to do a proper nazar utarna. But there I was, mind whirring faster than the ceiling fan, realising my crush was not just in my heart, but now, somehow, in my pillow too.

Arjun took a deep, shaky breath: “Your, uh, cat pillow is… really cute.”

“But, um, you don’t have to hit it so hard… It might get hurt too.”

That awkward little pause in his voice—too familiar, too endearing. For a moment, I actually felt bad for the poor stuffed cat, lying there with its face all squashed. Maybe this was my comeuppance for years of pillow-abuse.

I was still clenching my fist on the cat’s head. The poor pillow was dented where I’d punched it. It must… really hurt, huh?

I tried to smooth the fabric, as if an apology would make up for the indignity. The pillow seemed to puff up again under my touch, the faint trace of Arjun’s voice echoing in my mind. I felt foolish and giddy at the same time.

Feeling awkward, I moved my fist away. A little guilty, I gently squished the cat’s head again.

In that moment, the awkwardness melted just a little, replaced by a secret thrill. I wondered if he could feel my touch, if somewhere in his room Arjun was shivering, just like I was.

On the video, Arjun’s handsome face instantly turned red. His cheeks flushed. Oh my. He’s actually blushing!

That blush crept from the tip of his nose to his ears—so clear, even on my cheap Redmi screen. I let out a silent giggle, covering my mouth. The flutter in my stomach felt like Diwali sparklers going off one by one.

My fingers slid from the cat’s head down to its tail, and Arjun’s expression immediately changed, like he was desperately holding something in. The veins on his forehead started to pop.

He looked as though he was torn between telling me to stop and begging me not to. The tension in his jaw was visible, his gaze flickering between the camera and some unseen point.

I pretended not to notice. “Kya hua? You look uncomfortable.”

My voice was innocent, but my eyes were anything but. I couldn’t help teasing him, seeing how his composure cracked under my touch—even if it was through a pillow.

Arjun clenched his fists: “I’m fine, bas, ek machhar ne kaat liya.”

That classic Indian excuse—mosquitoes are always to blame. I wanted to laugh, but bit my tongue. It was a relief to see the mighty Arjun stutter and squirm for once.

He looked all serious on the outside. But his inner voice was saying something else:

*Neha touched me.*

*So happy.*

*I love it when she squishes me. Do it more!*

Love?

I looked at him in surprise. Didn’t expect the cold, aloof heartthrob to be so… spicy in private! But—what do I do? He’s too cute! I think I like him even more now.

The shock was quickly replaced by a rush of adoration. I wanted to pinch his cheeks—if only he were here. But I settled for tracing lazy circles on the pillow instead. Who knew my icy prince was this soft inside?

I couldn’t help but smile sweetly. My fingers kept gently stroking the soft body of the cat pillow.

In that moment, I forgot the world outside—the city, the hostel, even the occasional lizard on the wall. It was just me, the pillow, and Arjun, tied together by some madcap cosmic accident.

“Don’t worry, I really like this pillow. I’ll take good care of it.”

The words came out softer than intended, more a promise than a statement. And in that silent exchange, the awkwardness faded, replaced by something warm and thrilling.

---

Now that I knew Arjun and the cat pillow were sharing senses, I didn’t throw it away at night. Still kept it squeezed between my legs to sleep. It’s been my sleeping habit since I was a kid—without it, I can’t sleep.

It was almost comforting, the way this strange connection became a new kind of intimacy. Amma always said old habits die hard, and I guess she was right. The thought of Arjun’s presence, even in pillow form, made my cheeks burn. If Amma ever found out, she’d definitely call for a pooja!

The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. My bestie and roommate Priya dragged me to the second mess for breakfast.

The sunlight filtering through our window was harsh, but Priya’s enthusiasm was even harsher. She was already dressed, hair tied in a neat ponytail, face scrubbed clean, all set to attack the mess queue before the boys finished their morning football.

“Hurry up, Neha! If we’re late, we’ll miss the fresh poha!”

I groaned, stumbling over my chappals and pulling on my faded salwar kameez. Priya was right—nothing beat the taste of mess poha when it was still hot, with the extra sev and lime.

I’d just stepped onto the mess path when a familiar inner voice sounded in my ear:

*When can I openly call her Neha too?*

*I want to eat with her too.*

My stomach did a somersault. I turned my head, eyes scanning the crowd. The campus was buzzing, as always: boys shouting cricket scores, girls arguing over notes, the sound of a distant bhajan from the temple speaker. And there he was.

I stopped short. Looking around, I spotted Arjun standing in the corner, exuding his usual icy aura. Sensing my gaze, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave me a cool, distant nod.

He looked like the star boy every parent wanted—shirt tucked, hair oiled and side-parted, ID card swinging from his neck, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. If I didn’t know better, I’d never have guessed the storm brewing beneath that calm exterior.

My heart started racing. Help! How can he act so well? In public, he’s the cold topper. In private, he’s… a spoiled puppy. This contrast! It’s just too cute.

I tried to play it cool, fixing my dupatta and pretending to check my phone. But Priya elbowed me, waggling her eyebrows, clearly noticing the sudden tension.

I forced myself to look at him just once, then quickly looked away and hurried off. Immediately, I heard his aggrieved inner voice:

*She left.*

*As expected, she won’t look at me again.*

*No, I want to eat with Neha.*

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, rolling my eyes and muttering under my breath, “Uff, yeh ladka bhi na.”

I covered my mouth, turning away so Priya wouldn’t notice. If only Arjun knew how transparent he was to me now. If only he knew I could hear every unsaid word, every wishful sigh.