𝗧𝘂𝗺 𝗛𝗶 𝗧𝘂𝗺 – [𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞] - 𝐂𝐇 - 𝟐𝟖 ༊

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इस क़दर तू मुझे प्यार कर
जिसे कभी ना मैं सकूं फिर भुला..
ज़िन्दगी लायी हमें यहाँ
कोई इरादा तो रहा होगा भला
की दरखास्त है ये
जो आई रात है ये
तू मेरी बाहों में दुनिया भुला दे
जो अब लम्हात है ये
बड़े ही ख़ास है ये
तू मेरी बाहों में दुनिया भुला दे
 __________________

Don’t forget to hit the star ⭐ button to vote.
Can we cross 40+ votes please. It’s almost 7000+ words 😭🥺

Ruhaan didn’t move. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, wearing an expression he hadn’t prepared for. The kind that didn’t match the plan he thought he’d executed so well.

The plan was simple: make her jealous. The outcome? Not so much.

From a few feet away, Shakshi looked mildly amused, possibly unaware or just blissfully detached from the emotional grenade she had unknowingly helped lob into the evening. But others had noticed.

Prateek, for one, was staring at Ruhaan like a disappointed elder sibling. “Bhai, yeh kya kar diya tune?” he said under his breath, voice half-curious, half-condemning.

Ruhaan responded with his trademark smirk. The same one he wore when he was trying too hard to act like nothing mattered. “Relax, sab control mein hai.”

But not everyone bought it. Vivaan, ever the little chaos detector, narrowed his eyes. “Aapko to Shagun pasand thi na… fir yeh sab?”

Ruhaan deflected again, this time casually, “Chill, Shakshi’s my cousin. Bacche se leke ab tak saath mein bade hue hain. Overthink mat karo.”

It was the kind of truth that felt like a cover story. Technically accurate, but entirely insufficient. And then, without warning, a new voice entered the scene quiet but deadly.

Ansh. The Head Boy. The observer. The one who rarely spoke unless it mattered. “You shouldn’t be doing this, Ruhaan,” he said plainly, his gaze unflinching. Ruhaan turned, startled more by the seriousness than the words.

“What if she’s not jealous?” Ansh continued, calmly. “What if she’s just… hurt? And you’re not pushing her closer you’re pushing her away.”

That silenced even Vivaan, who usually had a follow-up joke ready within seconds. Ruhaan tried to brush it off. Grinned, shrugged, muttered something vague about “sab sambhal lunga,” but even he could hear the hollowness in his own voice.

Because Ansh’s words had struck something raw. The soft click of the hotel room door barely registered before it was nearly drowned out by the hurried thud-thud-thud of footsteps.

Shagun entered like a storm barely holding itself together eyes glassy, jaw tight, and hands clenched into fists. She didn’t glance at Samaira, who was already inside the room, lounging on the bed scrolling through her phone.

“Shagun…?” Samaira called out, her voice laced with confusion and growing concern. But Shagun didn’t answer. She walked straight past her like she hadn’t even heard her voice and slammed the washroom door shut behind her.

The sound echoed sharp, final. Samaira sat up immediately, startled, just as the main door creaked open again and Aditi and Priya entered, looking equally tense.

“Shagun kahan hai?” Aditi asked quickly, eyes scanning the room.

“Washroom,” Samaira replied, still staring at the closed door. “She didn’t say a word. Just… walked in.”

Priya with worried expression. “will she be fine?”

Aditi’s eyes narrowed slightly, mind already circling around one name: Ruhaan. But none of them moved toward the door. They knew Shagun. When she shut herself away, she meant it.

Inside the Washroom

Shagun leaned over the sink, her breath shaking in the tight silence. She twisted the tap on with trembling fingers, letting the cold water run for a second before splashing it onto her face again and again. It was as if she were trying to scrub something off her skin something invisible, but choking her nonetheless.

The droplets clung to her cheeks, mixing with the tears she refused to acknowledge. She clutched the sink, knuckles white.

“How could he…”

Her voice barely left her lips. A whisper. Raw. She shut her eyes tightly and in that sudden darkness, she didn’t see herself anymore. And now… she was done. Done letting anyone in. Done hoping someone would see the fire behind her defiance, the hurt behind her sarcasm, the longing behind her eyes. Colder.She stared at herself, face unreadable now.

“I swear… no more feelings. No more softness. No more hopes.”

The mirror showed a girl drawing her walls back up like armor, a warrior rebuilding from ashes but this time, not for war. For silence

She stepped out of the washroom with the kind of composure that doesn’t come from peace, but from long, exhausting practice. The towel in her hand moved slowly, deliberately, as she dried her damp fingers with an air of calm she didn’t possess. Her face was expressionless eerily blank. The kind of blank that wasn’t natural for someone like Shagun.

Samaira’s head shot up instantly from where she sat on the bed, legs crossed, phone still in hand. Her brows furrowed as she took in Shagun’s unreadable expression. Aditi and Priya were already on their feet.

“Tu theek hai?” Samaira asked gently, cautiously.

Shagun didn’t react immediately. She blinked once, casually tossed the towel onto the chair near the dresser, and turned her head toward the girls like someone who had simply finished brushing her teeth.

Aditi, who had always been more observant than she let on, tilted her head slightly. “shagun don’t be upset you know bhaiya,” she murmured, her voice more searching than concerned now.

Priya stepped closer. “haa vo bass tujhe jaleous karna chahte the, she was his cousin only”

Shagun’s eyes didn’t flicker. Not even once. “Upset?” she repeated coolly, her voice floating like mist across the room. Her brows lifted slightly as she gave them a light shrug. “vo karta rahe jo karna hai usee, mai to isliye ayi because of that juice, that juice was disgusting. Why did i even drank it?”

It was too casual. Too rehearsed. But it was enough to make all three of them pause. Aditi’s eyes narrowed, exchanging a quick glance with Samaira, who looked unsure. Priya’s lips parted like she wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the right words.

“That’s… all?” Priya asked hesitantly, clearly unconvinced.

Shagun offered them a smile. The kind that held no joy. The kind that sat on her lips like it had been stitched there for display. It didn’t even pretend to reach her eyes. “haa upar se bhaii mujhe to boht neend aa rahi m thak gayi hu.”

And with that, she turned her back to them, moving toward her backpack with a practiced grace. Her fingers moved through the zippers and pouches as if searching for something lip balm, maybe, or an excuse to not turn around.

Inside her? Still burning. Still crumbling. Still screaming. But outside?Stone. Steel. Stoic. Years of hiding pain had trained her in this exact performance. She knew when to dull the shine in her eyes, when to shrug off the weight of hurt, and when to shift the spotlight elsewhere. So, as she fiddled with the contents of her bag, she didn’t miss the uneasy glances behind her.

And then, casually like tossing a pebble into a pond she threw in a line so effortlessly teasing, it could almost be believed:

“Aditi, if you keep staring at me like that, I’ll start charging you rent.” Aditi let out a small, awkward laugh. Samaira tried to smile. Priya still looked uncertain, but she didn’t push.

Exactly what Shagun wanted. Let them believe she was fine. Let them buy the lie that nothing broke her. Because the truth? The truth had already cut too deep. And if there was one thing Shagun had mastered over the years, it was this, When you want to keep the world out, you don’t build walls. You become one.

The laughter was off. It had the rhythm of Shagun’s usual sarcasm, the pitch of her playful digs, even the tilt of her head as she flipped her hair to the side. But it wasn’t real.

Shagun hadn’t said a word. Not a sound. Just stormed in, locked herself in the washroom, and stayed there. And when she came out, she was smiling. But the kind of smile that made your heart ache just looking at it.

There were no words exchanged. Not yet. Because some things didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be understood.

Aditi masked it well brushed her hair in front of the mirror, answered Samaira casually, even matched Shagun’s sarcasm with a chuckle but beneath that, something had shifted. Something dark and raw had surfaced behind Shagun’s eyes. And it wasn’t because of juice.

Minutes later, down the hallway, the air in the boys’ room was far less delicate. The door creaked open no knock, no announcement.

Ruhaan was mid-game, yelling across the screen with his usual dramatic flair. Prateek, on the other bed, laughed at something in-game. And Ansh the ever-calm, unreadable one was nestled into his corner with a book, his face a blank slate.

Then Aditi stepped in.And everything stilled. “Ruhaan bhaiya, can we talk? Now.” she said. Heads turned. The controller froze mid-air.

Ruhaan blinked, confused by the sudden chill in her tone. “Arre, phir se prateek ne kuch kar diya kya? pareshaan kar rha h kya tujhe?” Prateek snorted.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. And just like that, the joke died in his throat.She didn’t sit, even when he offered. And then she dropped the weight of her words like a hammer.

“Are you serious about Shagun ? Or is this some extended prank you’re playing to feed your ego?” Silence. Even Ansh looked up. Prateek, frozen, controller still gripped tight. And Ruhaan… sat up straighter, only now registering the storm he’d walked into without a raincoat.

Aditi didn’t waste time. She laid it all out. The hug. The kiss. The laughter with another girl Shakshi. And most importantly, the pair of shattered eyes that had seen it all before storming away unseen.

Ruhaan tried to defend himself. He fumbled out a name, Shakshi, his cousin. A plan. A stupid one. “I wanted to make her jealous,” he confessed.

But Aditi didn’t soften. “You wanted to hurt her?” she asked, voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

“No! I just…” He paused. Struggled. “I wanted to see if she felt something too.”

“And you thought hurting her would give you that answer?” Aditi restorted blankly.

The room was heavy with it now. He tried to explain, tried to say Shagun never talks, never says what she feels. And maybe she didn’t. But Aditi did.

“She cried in the washroom today,” she whispered. “aapki wajah se.” She didn’t give him time to defend himself again. Her words kept cutting sharp, precise.

Shagun wasn’t someone you could toy with. She was someone who had clawed her way out of pain brick by brick and Ruhaan had just shoved her back inside the very shell she’d escaped.

Aditi stepped closer. Voice lower now. Dangerous. “Are you going to fix this or should I start planning your funeral?” That was the moment even Ansh closed his book. And finally, Ruhaan got it.

“I didn’t realise it would cut this deep,” he murmured, guilt dripping into every syllable.

Aditi’s eyes didn’t waver. “Then you better realise it now.” She turned, hand on the doorknob then paused. Looked over her shoulder, one last time.

“And for the record,” she added quietly, “she didn’t get jealous. She got hurt. There’s a big difference.”

Then the door slammed behind her. And all that remained in the room was the echo of her footsteps and the kind of silence that only came after truth had been spoken.

Ansh? Ansh didn’t move. Couldn’t. He just watched her. Not like a Head Boy. Not like a senior. But like someone trying to read between her words. Because behind that fire, he saw something raw. Something sad. Something unhealed.

This was the kind of girl who’d burn herself to warm the people she loved. Who would drag the world by its collar to protect a sister crying behind a locked door. But…

She’d never let anyone do the same for her. Ansh saw it now clear as glass. She was ready to fight everyone. For Shagun. For truth. For dignity.

But her own heart? Her own scars? They were untouchable. Walled in behind sharp eyes and sharper words. Pushed so far down that even she had stopped acknowledging them.

She would save Shagun. But she wouldn’t ask to be saved. Wouldn’t allow it. And that broke something in Ansh. Because for the first time in his meticulously organized life, he wanted to take a stand not for a committee, not for a rule but for her.

For this firestorm of a girl who kept everyone else warm and let herself freeze. He stared at the now-closed door. His book lay forgotten in his lap, the page still unread. He couldn’t take his eyes off where she had stood.

Aditi. The girl who walked into rooms like storms and left behind silence. Who spoke for others but never for herself. Who carried swords in her spine but scars in her silence.

Ansh let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. And in that moment, with every beat of his heart, he whispered a silent prayer, let her stay like this, bold, brave, burning. But let her someday trust someone enough to be soft again.

And if that day comes… Let it be him she allows to stand by her side.

The soft chime of temple bells drifted across the misty morning air, wrapping around the ancient steps of Triveni Ghat like a hymn that had been sung for centuries. The smell of agarbatti hung in the breeze, mingling with the faint tang of the river. The Ganga flowed steadily below, its surface glinting under the mellow afternoon sun, carrying with it a peace that only ancient waters seemed to know.

The gang had come to take blessings at a famous temple. Pilgrims murmured their prayers. Tourists moved in clusters, clicking pictures against the carved temple arches. Priests in saffron robes chanted mantras as they tied sacred threads onto the wrists of those who had come seeking blessings.

Aditi stood slightly apart from the group, her hands folded in silent prayer. The sacred thread on her wrist fluttered gently with the breeze. There was a serenity in her expression that didn’t belong to someone who had seen pain yet she wore it effortlessly. Ansh, who stood a few feet away, bowed his head in prayer too, but every now and then, his gaze flickered toward her. How does she still have faith in God after everything she’s been through? he wondered. That calmness, that unshakable belief it was almost humbling.

A few steps away, Ruhaan was far from serene. He was guilt-stricken, restless. Since yesterday’s mess, he had been trying to catch Shagun alone, but every attempt was intercepted always, always by someone. And if he had to place bets, it was probably Vivaan, the self-proclaimed chaos king, deliberately planting himself in Ruhaan’s path.

Finally, the group’s chatter lulled as they lingered near the temple stairs, debating where to head next. Ruhaan’s eyes scanned the steps, the crowd, the banks… and then he saw her.

Shagun sat near the riverside on a broad stone slab. Her sandals were neatly placed beside her. Her bare feet dipped into the cold water, toes making tiny ripples. She was fiddling with her Polaroid camera, the kind of aimless motion people did when their mind was far away. The breeze caught her hair, tossing a few strands across her face, but she didn’t tuck them away. She just sat there calm, unbothered, unreachable.

Ruhaan exhaled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking toward her, trying very hard to look casual.

“Yeh river pe baith ke tum kya Om Shanti Om ki Deepika Padukone ban rahi ho?” he called out, forcing a lopsided grin.

Shagun didn’t look up. “Kya hua, Shakshi nahi aayi aaj tumse milne?”

He sat down beside her, leaving a careful gap between them. “Vo? Aayi hai. Wahi… chuhe ko pareshaan kar rahi hai.”

Her eyes rolled, but her lips didn’t even twitch toward a smile. “Then you should be there only… yahan kya kar rahe ho?”

“Same reason as yours main Shahrukh Khan banne aaya hoon tumhare saath,” he said, voice softening. “I just… needed to talk to you.”

She trailed her fingers in the cold water, watching the ripples. “About what?”

“About yesterday. About… Shakshi.”

Shagun stayed silent, her face unreadable.

“I know tumhe bura laga hoga jo hua… but I swear it wasn’t like that,” he said, almost feeling guilt.

“It wasn’t,” she replied flatly. “I know.” Shagun finally turned her head toward him, sighing. “She’s your cousin, Ruhaan.”

“…Wait, what?”Ruhaan blinked, caught off guard.

Before he could process, a cheerful voice interrupted. “Hi, by the way,” Shakshi said from behind, folding her hands in greeting with a mischievous smile. “You must be Shagun. Ruhaan’s overthinking crush.” Shagun raised one eyebrow.

“SHAKSHI!” Ruhaan nearly choked.

“I’m just saying what I saw!” she laughed, holding up her hands like she was innocent.

Shagun stood, slinging her camera over her shoulder. “So… you both must be close then?”

“Close?” Shakshi snorted. “Arre yeh toh naukar hai mera. Mere saare kaam karta tha. Socha kal thoda iska sath de dein.”

Ruhaan groaned, avoiding Shagun’s eyes. “thoda muh band rakh leti…”

Shagun’s gaze sharpened. “And whose genius plan was this?”

Both pointed at each other instantly. “Iska!”

Shagun pinched the bridge of her nose then unexpectedly let out a small laugh. A real, if tired, laugh.

Ruhaan looked up, encouraged, but his tone turned serious. “Shagun, I know you were sad. I’m really sorry for that. I promise pakka main aage se aisi bakwaas harkat kabhi nahi karunga. Ganga Maiya ki kasam.”

She met his gaze, her voice even. “Kisne kaha I was sad?”

The air shifted. Sensing the sudden heaviness, Shakshi raised her hands again. “I guess I should leave. Chuha bula raha hai mujhe. Baad mein milte hain, Ruhaan, agar zinda bacha to.” She winked, patted his shoulder, and walked off.

Shagun turned back toward the river. The breeze tugged gently at her kurti. She looked calmer now, but not lighter.

Ruhaan hesitated before speaking again. “I thought you were angry yesterday. That’s why you ran off like “

“I wasn’t angry,” Shagun cut in softly. “Just… something about that scene reminded me of someone from before.”

She didn’t look at him. “It wasn’t about jealousy, Ruhaan. It was grief.”

He fell silent.

“I’m not scared of anyone breaking my heart,” she continued, her voice steady but distant. “Because I’ll never let someone close enough to even try. Not even you.”

His throat tightened. For once, he didn’t crack a joke, didn’t flash a smile. “I’m not asking to break in, Shagun. Just… maybe let me knock sometimes?”

She finally looked at him serious, unflinching. “I like someone else, Ruhaan. And I always will. I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s why you should stop here and… enjoy your life. and focus on your goals.”

The words landed like a thunderclap. His easy, mischievous posture collapsed into stillness. “You really like someone?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

“Who?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you soon.” she replies.

He swallowed hard. “Okay fine… I’ll stop if you want. But only if I get the assurance that he’s the best for you. Hope he loves you the way you love him.”

He tried to smile, but his eyes gave him away. Inside, it felt like something was sinking, dragging his heart down into the river. He stood and began walking up the stairs, leaving her sitting there, camera in hand, staring blankly at his retreating back.

He hadn’t even reached the top when he paused, turned, and forced a grin. “Ab akele kitni photos logi? Chalo, sabke saath lete hain.”

She could sense he was hurt. But she just nodded and followed him, her steps slow against the stone.

As they finally regrouped, Vivaan and Shakshi were already at each other’s throats over something as stupid as who spotted the flower shop first, Aman and Samaira were neck-deep in their “my portfolio is better than yours” debate, Aditi and Priya were lost in their own gossip session, and Ansh and Prateek were… well… basically just having a calm bro-talk while watching everyone else’s drama.

“Suno suno suno…” Ruhaan’s voice boomed out of nowhere like an excited tour guide. “Yahaan par bhi tum sab chugliya karne aaye ho kya? Photos kaun lega??”

The younger ones groaned in unison. “Nahi bhaiya… phir se nahi…” they sulked, already dreading his national-level photography obsession.

But to avoid triggering a full Ruhaan-lecture on “capturing memories,” they reluctantly posed. After the click-click session (which lasted far longer than promised), they set off to explore Triveni Ghat  the soft flower stalls lined with marigolds, the glowing Ganga river shimmering under the morning sun, the cool breeze carrying a faint fragrance of incense.

It felt like walking through heaven… until the quietness was interrupted by a rhythmic ching-ching of ghungroos. Drawn in like moths to a flame, they followed the sound to find a group of girls from tiny tots to graceful young women moving in sync to semi-classical music. An elderly guruji stood in front, occasionally clapping to correct a posture or step, her eyes sharp with decades of experience.

“Ohooo… kya mast kar rahe hain ye log,” Vivaan said, grinning.

“Mujhse toh ghooma bhi nahi jayega theek se,” Priya admitted, her eyes glued to the graceful spins.

“Try kare kya isko?” Shakshi suggested, already wiggling her eyebrows.

“Tum log pagal ho kya? Aise nahi hota… aise hota hai,” Prateek announced like some international choreographer only to break into the most useless, baseless steps anyone had ever seen. Aditi let out a small chuckle despite herself.

“Tu toh rehne hi de… aise hota hai!” Ruhaan countered, trying his own “version,” which was basically him twisting his ankle mid-step.

“Oyee Aditi… bata na yaar kaise karte hai? Tujhe toh aata hai na?” Shagun pleaded, clearly done watching the circus. Aditi’s smile froze. Her chest tightened.

“Haan Aditi, tu bata na… warna ye log toh kabada kar denge saare steps ka,” Prateek added, his tone overly casual but his eyes quietly hopeful.

“Ha ha ha… jaldi seekha Aditi… phir main in sabko bataunga” Vivaan chipped in, sensing the hidden mission.

Aditi’s throat felt dry. “Nahi… mujhe nahi aata,” she said, her voice softer than usual, fighting some invisible battle.

“Oh come on yaar Adu… try toh kar na,” Samaira urged, her voice warm, concerned.

Aditi shook her head. “Bhool gayi didi…” she whispered.

And before anyone could stop her, she turned and walked away, no, ran away from the music, the crowd, and the memories.

Ansh’s eyes followed her until she disappeared into the ghat’s narrow lane. He didn’t know the story, but the way her gaze had glistened like she was holding back a flood hit him harder than he expected. Something deep inside him twisted uncomfortably. She hadn’t just refused to dance… she’d refused a piece of herself. And that… broke him in a way he couldn’t explain.

Meanwhile, back at the group, vivaan muttered, “Aur main toh soch raha tha abhi Adu se Madhuri Dixit jaisa dance karwaunga…”

“Chup kar,” Samaira shot him a glare, her eyes still on the direction Aditi had gone. Even Aman who had been dragged here against his will fell silent for once.

The ghungroos kept ringing in the background. But for them, the fun had just… gone quiet

The Ganga’s water glimmered in the afternoon sun, curling around the stone steps in restless ripples. The rest of the group was still sitting in a circle near the temple courtyard, plotting chaotic ideas to make Aditi dance, when Ansh quietly excused himself.

He had noticed her slipping away earlier, thinking she might have gone to her parents, but when he scanned the ghats, he spotted her instead, sitting alone a few steps down. Her chin rested on her knees, shoes placed neatly aside, toes brushing the cool stone. She was absentmindedly dipping her fingers into the flowing water, watching the ripples spread, her gaze far away… as if she was somewhere between the past and the present.

Ansh stood there for a moment, weighing whether to disturb her. Then he stepped down, took off his shoes, and sat beside her leaving a respectful distance between them. The sound of the water filled the silence.

Aditi’s brows knit slightly as she felt someone’s presence. She turned her head just enough to see him.

“Aap yaha kyu aaye hain?” she asked softly, still tracing patterns in the water.

“Aise hi… bas mann kiya,” he said, tone casual but eyes steady on the river. She nodded, letting the silence settle again.

After a pause, he glanced sideways at her. “Waise… mujhe pata nahi tha ki tum dance bhi karti ho.”

“Kiya karti thi,” she corrected quietly. “Ab nahi karti.”

“Then maybe you should start again,” he said without the slightest hesitation.

She let out a faint breath half sigh, half laugh.”Not everything can be done just because you like it. Some things… they break. Even if they’re your favourite.” Her fingers swirled idly in the water, eyes fixed anywhere but on him.

Ansh leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “But breaking doesn’t mean you never touch it again. If you give up like that… you’ll lose the part of yourself that makes you who you are.”

“kya fark padta hai?” she murmured, a bitter chuckle slipping out. “Who even cares?”

He tilted his head, studying her profile for a long moment before speaking softly like he didn’t want the breeze to steal his words too soon.
“I do.”

She blinked, finally glancing at him in surprise. His expression was calm, but there was something unwavering in his eyes.

“I care,” Ansh said quietly, his gaze steady on the rippling water. “About what you lose, what you leave behind… and about the things that still mean something to you, even if you’ve buried them.”

Aditi’s lips parted slightly, as if to reply, but no words came.

He didn’t press. Instead, his voice softened further. “I’m not saying you have to start again right now… I’m just saying when you do feel ready, I’ll be there. If you stumble, if you stop halfway… I’ll still be there.”

The river’s murmur filled the pause between them, sunlight glinting off the water’s surface. Aditi glanced at him briefly before turning back to the stream, his words settling somewhere deep quiet, steady, and impossible to ignore.

As she was about to say something, his phone rang. She stopped mid-breath, her words dissolving in the air. Once the call ended, he looked at her, his voice calm too calm.

“To ab chalein?… Uncle aunty bula rahe hain tumhe.” He spoke casually, as if he wasn’t the same guy who had just, unknowingly, lifted the weight off her chest a few minutes ago.

Aditi simply nodded, slipping into her shoes. Ansh stood beside her, waiting without a word, his hands in his pockets, until she finished tying her laces. Side by side, they walked toward the elders.

They were immediately greeted with puzzled looks.

“Baaki sab kahan hai, Mammy?” ansh asked Kiran.

“Arre, vo sab toh kab ke hotel wapas chale gaye. Pata nahi kya jaldi machi thi unko,” Shweta replied.

“Hume chhod ke chale gaye saare?”Aditi’s tone carried a faint disbelief.

“Ab vo to wahi jaane… Vaise tum log unke saath kyu nahi the jab vo gaye?” Kriti asked, suspiciously narrowing her eyes.

Both Ansh and Aditi froze for a second wide-eyed, caught.

“Vo… mujhe thoda achha nahi lag raha tha to… hum bas paani ke paas baith gaye the. Vo log bohot shor kar rahe the,” Ansh lied smoothly, the words rolling off his tongue like he’d been rehearsing them forever.

Aditi stared at him in disbelief this was… effortless?

“Kyun? Kya hua? Tu theek to hai na?” Kiran asked in her motherly tone, stepping closer and placing her palm against his forehead.

“Haan maa, main theek hu. Vo Aditi ke paas medicine thi… le li maine. Now I’m fine.” He doubled down on the lie, weaving it even more convincingly.

Aditi just stood there, stunned not because he lied, but because he did it for her.

“Chalo, toh phir hume bhi chalna chahiye. Shaam ko campfire bhi toh hai,” Amit said, gesturing for everyone to move.

They began walking toward the hotel. After a while, they stepped into the lift.

The moment the doors began to close, more and more people squeezed in, eating away at whatever little space there was.

Aditi found herself pushed into a corner, her body stiffening. She kept her gaze low, shoulders hunched, trying not to make any contact but fate had other plans. Elbows brushed against her arms, a shoulder grazed hers, someone’s bag brushed against her hand. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening.

Ansh’s eyes flicked toward her. In the cramped, shifting space, he caught the flicker of discomfort in her face the kind most people would miss.

Without a second thought, he shrugged off his jacket. In one swift movement, he draped it over her front, shielding her hands and shoulders from view. Then, he stepped in front of her, taking up the space between her and the rest of the crowd. His hands planted on either side of her against the railing, creating a barrier. There was barely room to move, but he made sure absolutely sure that there was no physical contact between them.

The hum of the lift and the muffled chatter of strangers faded for her. All she could focus on was… this. The quiet, unspoken care in his actions. As if he already knew. As if he would take the brunt of anything before it could touch her.

Her eyes lifted to him. He didn’t look back his gaze stayed on the flickering lift numbers above the door but the tips of his ears were turning a faint shade of red.

“You know everything, right?” she whispered. Her voice was flat, but the weight behind it landed straight in his chest.

For a moment, his world stopped. His mind scrambled for words, for excuses, for a denial… but found nothing. He just looked into her eyes quietly, helplessly and in that silence, it was almost an admission.

The crowd thinned as the lift reached higher floors. He shifted away, slipping back into his usual posture. She took off his jacket and handed it back without a word.

When the doors slid open to their floor, they stepped out together. She walked ahead, then glanced back over her shoulder, her tone calm but laced with meaning. “Aage se jhooth mat boliyega… Head Boys don’t lie.”

And she walked away toward her room. He stood there in the corridor, her words echoing in his head, his heartbeat still somewhere in that lift. 

Aditi pushed open her room door, expecting to see Priya sprawled on the bed or at least samaira complaining about aman but it was all Empty.

Her brows drew together. She pulled out her phone and dialed Priya’s number. No response.

Across the hall, Ansh stepped out of his room at the same time, looking equally restless.
“They’re not in my room either,” he said flatly before she could ask.

Without another word, they both took it upon themselves to search checking every room allotted to their group, even peeking into washrooms and behind curtains. Calls went unanswered, and with every passing minute, Aditi’s annoyance grew.

Just as she was about to inform the elders, a hotel staff member passed with a laundry cart, muttering into his phone. “…kitne shaitan bachhe the saara kaam bigad diya mera… wasted half my morning…”

Aditi and Ansh exchanged a knowing glance.
“Where did they go?” Ansh asked, stepping forward. The man shrugged.”Upstairs… terrace, I think.”

They didn’t waste another second.The terrace door creaked openand the scene in front of them was straight out of a bizarre fever dream.

Samaira, hands on hips, was bossing Aman around like a drill sergeant.
“No, hips like this! You’re supposed to feel the beat, Mr. Zinda Statue!”

Vivaan sat cross-legged, eyes closed, tongue sticking slightly out, forming random mudras like he was summoning divine intervention. Priya and Shagun were trying to teach each other delicate hand sways, bursting into giggles every two seconds. Ruhaan and Prateek… were at war with gravity, attempting spins and landing on the floor every single time with dramatic groans.

Aditi and Ansh just stood there, shoulder to shoulder, wearing matching deadpan expressions, the kind that screamed We are too tired for this level of stupidity.

Then Vivaan spotted them. “Arey, aa gayi tu! Dekh, maine sikh liya yeh… YouTube se.” He proudly demonstrated an absurd hand mudra that looked like he was about to present invisible French fries to the universe.

Aditi stared, horrified. “Tune apni ungliyon ko fries samajh liya hai kya? Yeh kya bakwaas bana rakha hai?”

“Arey, par isme toh aise hi bola tha,” Vivaan sulked, shoving his phone at her, showing a tutorial titled Katakamukha Mudra for Beginners.

“Aise nahi hota hai,” Aditi said flatly.

“Tu rehne de. Tu khud toh bhool gayi hai. youtube se seekh lunga main.” Vivaan smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

Her attention shifted to Aman and Samaira, mid-argument over hip sways. “Aap dono itne zyada thumke kyu maar rahe ho?” she asked.

“Dekhna yaar Aditi,” Aman jumped in. “Yeh maan hi nahi rahi. Baar baar bol rahi hai aise karo, phir kar raha hoon toh chilla rahi hai.” he complaine about samaira’s scoldings.
“Haan toh jab aise ki jagah aise karoge toh bolungi hi na! Aarti toh utarungi nahi tumhari,” Samaira shot back, mimicking Aman’s awkward sway.

“Par aap dono hi galat kar rahe ho,” Aditi said, stepping in. “Nahi, yahi sahi tareeka hai. Mujhe pata hai. Tu chup reh,” Samaira declared dramatically.

Across the terrace, Prateek was shouting at Ruhaan. “Abe theek se ghoom na! Baar baar zameen se chipak kyu ja raha hai?” 

“Tujhe itna pata hai toh tu kar ke dikha na,” Ruhaan retorted, before wobbling into another failed spin.

Finally, Aditi raised her voice. “Aap sab log… karna kya chahte ho?” 

“Dikh nahi raha? Dance karna chahte hain!” Vivaan replied, fake-annoyed.

“Jo tu kar raha hai usse dance toh nahi hi bolenge,” she deadpanned.

“Accha? Tujhe bada pata hai dance ke baare mein?” Vivaan leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
Shagun jumped in sweetly, “Haan haan, pata toh hai isko… but bechari bhool gayi hai. Chhod, hum YouTube se seekh lenge.”

That got the reaction they wanted Aditi’s jaw tightened just a fraction.

“Haan, wahi toh bol raha hoon,” Vivaan piled on. “Khud ko toh pata nahi, humein sikhane aa rahi hai.”

“Mujhe pata hai,” she said sharply.

“Accha ji? Kar ke dikhaiyo zara,” Vivaan challenged, his grin widening.

Ansh had been quietly watching, the shift in Aditi’s body language so subtle that most people would’ve missed it but not him. Her shoulders had stiffened, her eyes flickering down, the tiniest flinch in her hand. He knew that look. He’d seen it before… and he knew exactly where it could take her straight back to the memories she’d fought so hard to bury.

The casual teasing between her and Vivaan had started harmless, but the words were beginning to dig deeper than they should. The tension was no longer playful,  it was brittle, sharp. Ansh’s jaw tightened. One more second and this could shatter her.

His voice cut through the air calm, but carrying a weight that made it impossible to ignore. “Vivaan… bas. Enough. Bohot ho gaya. Ab chup ho ja.”

There was no anger in his tone, only a quiet authority, the kind that didn’t need to be raised to be obeyed. It wasn’t a request. It was a line drawn one he wouldn’t let anyone cross, not when it came to her.

But Aditi’s voice cut through the noise. “Play. The. Music.”

Meanwhile, Priya and Shagun were in their own bubble, trying to master Abhinaya but stopping every five seconds to accuse the other of “lying with their face.”

She slipped off her shoes, stepping barefoot onto the cool marble floor. The last strands of chatter fizzled into silence. The faint hum of the city in the background faded into nothingness.

Aditi took one steadying breath, her fingers brushing the ends of her kurti as if grounding herself in the present. Then, with deliberate precision, she lifted her hands into the Pataka mudra. Her eyes softened, her posture straightened and something almost invisible shifted in the air.

The first beat from the speaker played. She moved.

Not rushed. Not hesitant. Each motion was deliberate a fluid string of grace and control. Her feet tapped in Tatta Adavu, the sharp yet gentle rhythm reverberating through the marble, anchoring her to the music. Her hands flowed between Tripataka and Ardhapataka, every shift in mudra crisp but warm, like brushstrokes in an ancient painting.

She spun lightly, the hem of her kurti fanning out, then dipped into a low bend that made the tiny ankle bells chime like distant wind chimes in a quiet temple. Rising again, she struck the floor in Kuditta Mettu, the sound ringing clear and strong before she turned in a perfect side Chakkar.

The terrace seemed to forget how to breathe.

Samaira’s glossy eyes glistened, her chest tight with a bittersweet ache. She had begged, teased, and hoped for this day the day her sister would dance again but seeing it happen felt almost unreal.

Prateek couldn’t stop grinning, his phone angled just right as if he were recording a piece of history. His hands shook slightly, not from the weight of the phone, but from the sheer excitement of witnessing something so personal.

Shagun and Priya exchanged a quiet, victorious glance. Vivaan smirked beside them, whispering, “Our plan worked,” but even he couldn’t hide the awe in his voice.

Ruhaan had gone still, his chin propped in his palms, eyes wide with unblinking reverence like he was witnessing divinity in motion.

And then there was Ansh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He just… watched.

He had seen Aditi laugh at jokes, roll her eyes at teasing, hide behind sarcasm, and build walls with silence. But this? This was different. There was no mask here. No defense. She wasn’t dancing to prove anything or to please anyone. She was simply… being.

Her eyes held a quiet determination, but there was light there too a light he hadn’t seen in a long time. The invisible chains that had kept her tied to her past seemed to loosen with each movement, each spin, each measured step.

It hit him all at once the way her smile, small but unshaken, made her look unburdened. The way the curve of her hands told stories older than all of them. The way her bare feet pressed against the marble, owning the space like she belonged here.

For the first time, she wasn’t fighting the memories. She was living in the present.

And in that moment, Ansh made a silent promise. That no matter what it took no matter what lines he had to cross or battles he had to fight he would make sure she never again felt the weight of the pain she had once carried. That this light in her eyes would never be extinguished again.

The music swelled, her movements slowed, and as the final beat echoed, she came to rest in Samapada, palms pressed together in Anjali.

As the final beat echoed, Aditi came to a graceful halt in Samapada, palms pressed together in Anjali. For a heartbeat, the air stilled. The silence wasn’t awkward it was full. Heavy with something no one wanted to break.

And then, applause erupted.

“Ohh ma goo turuuuu lobeee!” Vivaan yelled dramatically, earning a few groans but more laughs.
Priya and Shagun were already jumping on the spot, squealing before rushing over to pull Aditi into a hug.

“Bola tha na maine… jab Aditi nachegi na, toh koi pair bhi nahin hila payega!” Samaira announced proudly, pointing like she had just won a court case. She blew Aditi a theatrical flying kiss.

“Finally Aditi ka dance dekhne ko to mila,” Ruhaan said, pushing himself off the floor.

“Bhai, kya gajab ka nachti hai tu… autograph to de hi sakti hai,” Vivaan added, hand outstretched like a fan meeting his idol.

“Pehele sorry bol. Ab nahi bolega ki mujhe nahin pata dance ke baare mein,” Aditi said, arms crossed and brow raised.

“Theek hai meri maa… I’m sorry, bas khush?” Vivaan replied instantly, joining his hands and bowing low.

Aditi’s laugh bubbled out light, almost teasing. “Vo sab toh theek hai, par aap sab log achanak se aise kyun dance seekh rahe ho… kaunse reality show mein jaana hai?”

“Reality show mein kaun jaa raha hai?” Ruhaan grinned. “Hum toh bas tujhse dance karwana chahte the, toh matka li thodi kamar.”

The shift was almost imperceptible at first  Aditi’s laugh slowed, her smile froze in place, and then, it was gone. Her eyes moved across the group slowly, the sparkle replaced by something quieter… and colder.

Everyone, without exception, turned mentally on Ruhaan. Why. Would. You. Say. That. Shagun shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Samaira’s jaw tightened. Prateek’s phone dropped slightly in his hand. Even Vivaan, Priya, and Aman stopped smiling, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

Ruhaan’s own expression shifted from smug to alarmed as realization hit him square in the face.

Aditi’s gaze swept over each of them, her voice quiet but steady. “So you all already knew about it.”

She didn’t need to raise her voice; the weight behind the words was enough.

Samaira, Shagun, and Prateek didn’t even try to hide the guilt in their eyes they’d known from the start. But now she saw it in the faces of Vivaan, Priya, Aman… Ruhaan… and finally, Ansh. The warmth that had filled the terrace moments ago drained away, leaving behind something brittle.

“M… mera vo matlab nahi…” Ruhaan started, panic lacing his voice.

But Aditi cut in before he could explain. “Doesn’t matter what you meant. You all knew.”

**********************************

That’s all for this chapter…! ✨
I hope you enjoyed it…

Don’t forget to vote and drop your thoughts in the comments…

See you in the next chapter!

Till then, be healthy, stay safe, keep smiling, and always keep reading.

With love,
Prachi 💌

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I’D – pixiee_wrts

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