The morning after the darkroom felt almost too normal.The sunlight fell clean through the window; the air smelled of coffee and paper; the campus hummed with routine. For once, there was no whisper when she entered class — no new photo, no fresh rumor. The silence was almost unnerving.
Priya chatted beside her, flipping through notes. "So," she said casually, "are you going to thank him for helping last night?"
Meera didn't look up. "Helping? You mean standing there pretending to?"
Priya smiled softly. "You can hate him all you want, but he does things for you no one else bothers to."
Meera sighed. "That's not help. That's control dressed up as kindness."
But deep down, she hated how true Priya's first sentence felt.
Later, as she walked past the law faculty on her way to the studio, a flicker of color caught her eye — laughter.A girl stood beside Aarav near the entrance steps, holding a file against her chest. She was tall, polished, and stunning in the unbothered way only certain people can be. Aarav said something; the girl laughed — that light, confident sound that carried across the courtyard.
Meera stopped before she realized she had.
Aarav glanced up at that exact moment, eyes locking with hers. He didn't look guilty. Didn't even look surprised. He just… watched. And for the first time, he didn't follow her gaze or move toward her.
He smiled — a faint, polite curve of acknowledgment — and turned back to the girl.
It shouldn't have mattered.It shouldn't.
But her chest tightened anyway.
At the studio, she slammed her bag onto the desk hard enough to make Priya look up. "He's talking to some law intern," she blurted out.
Priya blinked. "And?"
"And he was smiling."
Priya tilted her head. "You do realize that's what humans do, right?"
Meera shot her a glare. "You don't understand. He's never—" she broke off, realizing how it sounded. "He doesn't just smile like that."
Priya's eyes softened with amusement. "Wow. You really are in deep, aren't you?"
Meera stiffened. "No. I just don't trust him. He's probably planning something."
"Like making a friend?"
"Like using her to get something."
"Or maybe," Priya said gently, "you're jealous."
Meera froze. "I'm not—"
But the words fell apart halfway. She wasn't supposed to care who Aarav spoke to. She wasn't supposed to feel her stomach twist at the sight of another girl laughing with him.
She hated the thought that maybe Priya was right.
That evening, she lingered longer in the studio than she needed to, packing slowly, pretending to review her photos. The lights had begun to dim when footsteps entered the room behind her. She didn't turn.
"I heard you saw me today," Aarav's voice said softly.
"I wasn't spying," she replied, forcing her tone steady.
"I didn't say you were."
She turned sharply. "Who was she?"
He raised an eyebrow. "A colleague. The dean asked me to assist her in a case review."
"Of course he did."
He studied her, expression calm, voice gentler than usual. "You sound upset."
"I'm not."
"You're lying."
"I'm not!" she snapped, slamming a photo print onto the table. "Why do you always assume you know what I'm feeling?"
"Because you always react before you think," he said quietly.
She glared. "Maybe I wouldn't if you weren't always everywhere."
He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, like someone crossing into a storm on purpose. "You saw me with someone else, and it bothered you."
"It didn't."
"It did."
"Stop—"
"It did," he said again, softer this time.
His proximity was a pulse, a quiet hum that filled the space. Meera's breath hitched as his hand brushed the edge of the desk beside hers, not touching her, but close enough to feel it.
"You hate how much space I take up in your life," he murmured. "But what happens when I give some of it to someone else?"
Her jaw clenched. "You think this is a game?"
He shook his head. "No. It's a fact." He leaned in slightly, voice a whisper against her ear. "You care."
Meera turned away, voice shaking. "You're twisting things again."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe, for the first time, you're being honest."
She wanted to deny it.To scream, to shove him away.But all she could manage was a trembling, whispered truth:
"Maybe I hate that you're right."
Aarav's expression softened for the briefest second. Then he stepped back, eyes holding hers with quiet satisfaction — not mockery, not victory. Just… knowing.
"Then we understand each other better than you think," he said, and left.
The door closed with the softest click.
Meera stood alone, heart racing, hating herself for every feeling she couldn't name.