Days passed, and Aarohi changed.
She didn't argue in class. She didn't crack competitive remarks. She didn't even acknowledge Meera or Aryan unless necessary. It wasn't anger—not the usual, fiery kind. It was colder, distant, like she had quietly decided to detach herself from everything.
Meera tried to get through to her. She sent messages. Called. Tried to corner her after class. But Aarohi was always just out of reach, slipping away with vague excuses and empty reassurances.
Even Aryan noticed. "She's different," he muttered one afternoon as he and Meera stood by the lockers.
"I know," Meera sighed. "I just don't know how to fix it."
And then, the school announced the upcoming prom party.
The halls buzzed with excitement. Dresses, music, dates—everyone had something to talk about. But Aarohi? She didn't seem to care. She sat in her seat, eyes fixed on the window, lost in a world far from the chatter around her.
Meera glanced at her, then at Aryan. "Do you think she'll even come?"
Aryan's expression was unreadable. "I guess we'll find out."
As the days passed, Meera started noticing something that made her stomach twist.
Aryan cared too much.
Every time Aarohi was absent, his eyes would flick toward her empty seat, his expression darkening. When she was around, he was always watching, always trying to get a reaction out of her. Even when she ignored him, he never stopped trying.
Meera had always believed she and Aryan had something special—an unspoken connection. But now, that connection felt weaker, overshadowed by the silent pull between him and Aarohi.
She hated how much it bothered her. How much she noticed. And worst of all, she hated that she was starting to feel something more for Aryan.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
One afternoon, when they were alone, she finally said it. "You care about her a lot."
Aryan didn't deny it. He simply looked at her, as if waiting for her to say more. But Meera didn't. Because she wasn't sure if she wanted the answer.
The day before prom, Aarohi found herself standing outside, lost in thought. She hadn't planned on attending, but something about the event, the finality of it, made her hesitate.
That's when Aryan approached her.
"Skipping prom?" he asked casually, standing beside her.
She shrugged. "Haven't decided."
There was a pause. Then, before she could process what was happening, Aryan spoke again—his voice steady, unwavering.
"Aarohi, I like you."
She blinked, turning to face him fully. "What?"
"I like you," he repeated, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I think I always have."
Her breath hitched, her mind racing. Of all the things she had expected him to say, this wasn't one of them.
And she had no idea how to respond.