DIYA'S POV
The morning air was crisp as Diya walked to class, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She'd spent an extra ten minutes getting ready—smoothing her hair, applying a touch of lip balm, perfecting the smile in the mirror. The one that didn't show the cracks. The one that said I'm fine so convincingly even she almost believed it.
When she rounded the corner and saw them—Maddy leaning against the courtyard wall, Harsh beside him, their friends laughing at some joke—her breath hitched. Just for a second. Then the mask slid into place.
"Hey, guys." Casual. Light. Unbroken.
Maddy's head snapped up at her voice. His eyes—those damn eyes that used to read her so easily—scanned her face like he was searching for something.
"Diya..." He stepped forward, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "Can we talk?"
Her fingers tightened around her notebook. Talk. About what? The way he'd humiliated her in front of everyone? The way he'd reduced months of love to "she won't stop hoping"? The way he'd looked at her yesterday like she was a stranger?
"After class," she said, already stepping around him. "I'll see you near the block."
She didn't wait for his response.
MADDY'S POV
The bench beneath him was cold, but he barely noticed.
Maddy tapped his foot restlessly, replaying the morning in his head—the way Diya had smiled at him. Smiled. Like he was just another classmate. Like the last three months hadn't happened.
When she finally approached, her steps were measured. Calm. Nothing like the Diya who used to bounce toward him, all wild energy and bright laughter.
"Hey." She sat beside him, but kept a careful distance. "What did you want to talk about?"
The words lodged in his throat. He'd practiced this—apologies, explanations, something—but now, faced with her quiet composure, it all sounded hollow.
"I'm sorry," he managed. "For shouting at you... in front of everyone."
A breeze ruffled her hair. She tucked it behind her ear, unfazed. "It's okay."
It's okay.
That was the worst part. The old Diya would've snapped. Would've cried. Would've fought. This Diya just... accepted it.
"How are you feeling?" he tried again, desperate to bridge the gap. "Health-wise, I mean."
"Same as always." She checked her watch. "I should get going. My roommate needs me."
And just like that, she stood.
"Bye, Maddy."
Not "talk later." Not "see you around."
Bye.
Like an ending.
HARSH'S POV
From his spot by the bike racks, Harsh watched the entire exchange.
He saw the way Maddy's shoulders slumped the second Diya walked away. Saw the way Diya's steps quickened once she was out of sight—like she couldn't get away fast enough.
He should've been satisfied. This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? For Diya to stop pining after someone who couldn't commit?
But the way she'd smiled today—polite, polished, dead-eyed—made his chest tighten.
This wasn't moving on.
This was giving up.