Riverline College had a very specific talent.
It could turn normal people into performances.
By the third day, posters were everywhere.
🎤 FRESHER FUSION FEST — Auditions Open
🎠Music | Dance | Drama | Media | Fashion | Anchoring
The campus buzzed like a charging phone.
"WE HAVE TO DO THIS," Pihu declared, nearly tripping over a cable wire. "This is literally our destiny arc."
Meher was already scanning the fashion club stall. "I didn't come to Mumbai to sit quietly in lectures."
Nandini adjusted her bag strap. "I didn't come to perform."
They all turned to Ananya.
She hadn't planned on anything either.
But something inside her… stirred.
"I might try anchoring," she said, surprising herself.
Three faces.
Three reactions.
Pihu: "YES. YOU HAVE MAIN CHARACTER VOICE."
Meher: "Hmm. That actually suits you."
Nandini: "I think… people would listen."
Ananya looked at the sign-up sheet.
Her name hovered in her mind before it touched the pen.
Then she wrote it.
Ananya Verma — Anchoring / Media.
She stepped back.
And felt… seen by herself.
Auditions were scheduled for the evening.
Which meant the entire day was chaos.
Girls practicing in washrooms. Boys beatboxing near staircases. Seniors walking like judges.
Room 407 turned into a rehearsal studio.
Pihu danced dramatically and fell twice.
Meher tried outfits instead of lines.
Nandini read quietly from her book, pretending not to care.
Ananya stood near the window, phone in hand, notes open.
Just speak. Be real. Don't perform.
She didn't want to copy anyone.
She wanted to sound like herself.
The auditorium was packed.
Lights. Noise. Names being called.
Ananya sat between Meher and Nandini, knees bouncing slightly.
"You're shaking," Meher whispered.
"I'm not," Ananya lied.
Kabir stood near the side aisle, helping manage the event.
Their eyes met briefly.
He lifted his coffee cup in a small salute.
It oddly helped.
"Aarush Khanna!" someone announced.
The crowd clapped.
Aarush walked on stage like it belonged to him.
He sang. He joked. He smiled.
The girls around Ananya whispered his name like it was already famous.
Meher leaned back. "He knows he's charming."
"Yes," Nandini said softly. "And that's dangerous."
Then a volunteer called, "Ananya Verma."
Her stomach dropped.
This was her name.
Her turn.
She walked onto the stage.
The lights hit her face.
The audience blurred.
The mic felt heavier than it should.
She took one breath.
And then she didn't perform.
She spoke.
"Hi… I'm Ananya. And I don't really have a script."
A small ripple of interest.
"I study Mass Media because I'm fascinated by people. We post what we want others to see. We hide what we think makes us weak. But I think… our most powerful stories are the ones we almost don't tell."
The hall quieted.
"So if I ever get to stand on this stage again, I won't bring perfection. I'll bring honesty. Because in a city like Mumbai… being real is the bravest thing you can be."
She paused.
"Thank you."
For half a second, there was silence.
Then claps.
Not loud.
Not crazy.
But real.
As she walked off stage, her hands were shaking.
But her chest felt steady.
Kabir caught her near the aisle.
"That wasn't anchoring," he said.
"That was connection."
Ananya smiled.
So did he.
Results were put up that night.
A small crowd formed.
Names were circled. Pictures clicked.
Pihu screamed when she saw her name under "Event Volunteers."
Meher's name shone under "Fashion & Styling."
Nandini was shocked to find herself selected for "Content & Script."
Ananya looked.
And there it was.
Ananya Verma — Official Anchor (Freshers Fest)
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then Pihu hugged her.
Then Meher did.
Then even Nandini.
"You're going to be noticed now," Meher said.
Ananya looked at the list again.
Maybe.
But what scared her more…
was that she didn't want to hide anymore.
That night, lying on her bed, she opened her notes app and typed:
I don't want to be impressive. I want to be true.
Outside, Mumbai rushed on.
Inside, something in her had quietly chosen a direction.
And she didn't know yet…
that this was the first step into becoming
the girl everyone would notice.