By morning, the rain had stopped—but the world had found new weather to talk about.
It started with a ping.Then another.Then dozens, swelling into a storm of notifications that lit up Meera's phone screen like fireflies.
At first she thought it was the usual—messages from friends, exhibit praise, reposted photos from the opening night. But then she saw the words:
"Golden boy caught at midnight."#AaravAndMeera #TangledLove #ArtScandal"Student Leader's secret romance exposed!"
The thumbnail froze her blood.It was them.In the gallery.Kissing.
The video wasn't clear—blurry, grainy, shaky—but there was no mistaking it. The soft lighting, the way her hand trembled against his collar, the way he leaned in. Someone had recorded them through the glass.
By afternoon, it was everywhere.
In the cafeteria, eyes followed her like flashlights. Whispers folded in her wake.
"That's her.""Didn't know she was with him.""No wonder she got the main slot at the exhibit.""He used his position to—"
She stopped listening. The words were dull blades, hitting the same spot until it went numb.
Priya found her, storming in with fury burning behind her glasses. "Meera! Did you see what's happening? They posted it everywhere! Who recorded it? Was it a volunteer?"
Meera shook her head, throat tight. "I don't know."
"Do you know what they're saying?" Priya's voice cracked. "They think you used him to climb up, or that he used you to look like a hero. They think everything you've done—your photos, your awards—was because of him."
"I didn't—" Meera started, then stopped. The words felt useless.
Priya's anger softened into fear. "You need to report this. To the board. Or at least—block them. Do something."
"I can't even breathe, Priya."
That night, her dorm room was filled with the dull glow of her phone screen, the video on loop. It played like a dream turned inside out. What had been fragile and private now lived in thousands of phones, dissected by strangers.
There was a knock on the door. Once. Calm. Familiar.
She hesitated before opening it. Aarav stood there, looking composed, almost too composed. His shirt was rumpled, his eyes unreadable.
"I came as soon as I saw it," he said quietly.
"You saw yourself," she snapped. "Of course you did."
He ignored the edge in her voice. "You need to turn off your phone."
"Why?"
"Because people don't deserve your explanations."
"I don't need your instructions right now."
"Then what do you need?" he asked, stepping closer. "To panic? To let them decide what we are?"
"We are nothing," she hissed. "You kissed me, Aarav. I didn't plan it. And now it's everywhere."
He exhaled, jaw tight. "You think I wanted this?"
"I don't know what you want anymore!" she shouted. "Do you? Do you even understand how much you control everything—how much space you take up—how people see me because of you?"
Aarav looked at her for a long moment, the calm in his eyes beginning to crack. "I didn't leak it," he said softly. "But I will fix it."
"By what—buying it off? Threatening someone?"
He didn't answer.
"Oh my God, you're serious." She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. "You'll make it worse."
He reached out suddenly, catching her wrist—not roughly, but firm. "Look at me."
She met his gaze.
"I won't let them destroy you," he said, voice low, almost pleading. "Not for this. Not for me."
Tears stung behind her eyes. "You don't get to protect me after you're the reason I need protecting."
He let go instantly. The absence of his touch burned worse.
"I'll handle it," he said finally. "You don't have to say anything."
"I don't want silence to speak for me," she whispered. "But maybe that's all I have left."
By the next morning, the university had issued a formal notice: An inquiry will be conducted into the alleged misconduct of students Aarav Malhotra and Meera Joshi.
The comments under the post split the internet in half—#ProtectMeera vs. #JusticeForAarav.
People who had cheered her talent now doubted it.People who had envied him now pitied him.And neither of them could stop it.
Aarav didn't show up that day. The campus felt wrong without his shadow.
Meera sat under the same tree where they'd first met months ago, staring at her reflection in her camera lens — a girl whose silence had been turned into someone else's story.
Her phone buzzed once more.
Aarav: Don't come to the hearing. I'll fix it.
She stared at the message for a long time before deleting it.
Fixing things was what broke them in the first place.