31

Aryan woke up the next morning with a strange mix of relief and unease swirling in his chest. He felt lighter—like a weight had been lifted after finally telling Tara everything—but there was also this lingering uncertainty. They hadn't talked about what came next. Where they stood now. Whether they were anything at all.

But he decided, in that moment, that none of it mattered. He didn't care about his own feelings right now. He would do whatever Tara wanted. If she asked him to stay away, he would. If she needed time, he'd give it. If she needed him there, he'd be there without question.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he got up and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, trying to drown out the anxiety sitting heavy on his chest. Once he was done, he towel-dried his hair and changed into a simple black t-shirt and jeans.

He checked his phone. A few missed calls from home. He hesitated but finally pressed call back. His dad picked up almost immediately.

"Hello? Aryan?"

"Yeah, Dad. I... I talked to Tara."

There was a pause. A cautious kind of hope laced in his father's voice. "And... what did she say?"

Aryan leaned against his desk, staring at the floor. "She's angry... and hurt. But... I told her everything."

Behind his dad, he caught a glimpse of his mom. She was sitting in the background, her face softer than he'd seen in a long time. Her eyes held something that almost looked like guilt.

"Aryan..." she started, her voice tentative. "Whatever I did... it was for you. For the family. Please... try to understand."

He clenched his jaw, his heart tightening. He cut her off before she could say more.

"Yeah, Mom. I know. Everything you do is always for the family." His voice was flat, sharp.

His dad looked uncomfortable, sensing the tension. Before either of them could say more, Aryan exhaled. "I have to go, Dad. Bye."

He ended the call without waiting for a response, his chest heavy with the unresolved anger he still carried toward his mom. Some wounds, he knew, would take longer to heal.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he grabbed his bag and left his room.

Downstairs, he spotted Aakash and Rohan chatting near the reception area. The moment they saw him, they fell quiet. Their eyes scanned him cautiously.

"You okay?" Aakash asked, his tone careful.

Aryan gave a small nod. "Yeah... let's go to class."

Neither pushed him for more. They simply fell into step beside him as they headed out.

Meanwhile, across the corridor, Tara woke up with a tightness in her chest. Yesterday's conversation with Aryan replayed in her mind like a loop she couldn't shut off. She had cried. She had slapped him. She had hugged him. And yet... she had no idea what any of it meant.

Where did they stand now? Did they just move past it all? Could they?

She dragged herself to the shower, hoping the water would clear her mind. It didn't. Instead, her thoughts shifted to Aryan's mother—the woman who had wanted her out of Aryan's life so badly she had gone to such lengths to separate them. And from what Aryan had said last night, he still didn't talk to her. That meant... things were still broken.

She still hates me.

That thought sat like a stone in her stomach. She realized, then, that even if Aryan and she found their way back to each other... it would never be simple. His family would always come in between. And maybe, just maybe... they were never meant to work out.

By the time she stepped out of the shower and got dressed, her heart had settled on one thing—distance. Staying away from Aryan was probably for the best. For both of them.

With that decision weighing on her heart, she grabbed her bag and left for class.

When she arrived, her eyes naturally scanned the room. And then—there he was.

Aryan.

He was already seated, talking quietly to Aakash and Rohan. As if sensing her, his gaze lifted—and their eyes met.

For a brief second, the whole world paused.

Neither smiled. Neither looked away immediately.

But then Tara, with a small breath, forced herself to break the eye contact. She turned and found her seat.

Aryan's chest ached as he watched her sit down, but he didn't push it. He had already decided—whatever she needed, he would follow.

After class, the group naturally gravitated toward each other, deciding to grab lunch together. It had been a while since all of them had hung out like this—Tara, Aisha, Aria, Aryan, Rohan, Aakash, and Karan—all in the same space, pretending things were normal.

Except they weren't.

The laughter, the jokes, the casual teasing—it was all there. But the unspoken tension between Tara and Aryan hung in the air, so thick that everyone noticed it. No one said anything, but they exchanged knowing glances. Tara sat next to Aisha, Aryan across from her, and neither acknowledged the other directly.

Aisha kept Tara engaged in conversation, and Rohan tried to distract Aryan, but there were moments—brief ones—when their eyes met. When Tara laughed at something, Aryan caught himself staring. When Aryan ran a hand through his hair in frustration, Tara noticed. They weren't strangers, but they weren't the same either.

And for some reason, that hurt more than anything.

Eventually, the group dispersed, and Tara found herself walking toward the lift with Aryan. Just the two of them, heading to their studio floor. The silence between them was suffocating. She could feel his presence, feel the weight of all the things left unsaid.

As they stepped onto their floor, Aryan finally broke the silence.

"Tara..." he hesitated, his voice careful. "Where do we stand?"

She stilled for a moment before slowly turning to face him. She hadn't been expecting that question, not now, not when she was trying so hard to keep her walls up.

"I..." She struggled, unsure of what to say, how to say it. But then, something inside her pushed her to be honest. "Aryan, I know whatever happened... it wasn't because you wanted it. I know that now."

His chest rose and fell, his heart clinging onto those words, hoping for something more.

"But..." She let out a breath, looking away. "Your mom hates me, Aryan. And that's going to split us up later too. So why start something that already has an expiry date?"

Aryan felt like the ground beneath him had crumbled. His heart clenched at her words, at the finality in her voice.

But he kept his face neutral. He couldn't break in front of her. Not now.

"So... you're saying we shouldn't even try?" His voice was quieter now, almost fragile.

Tara didn't answer.

Aryan took a step closer, his fingers lightly grazing her face, his touch hesitant, like he was afraid she'd pull away. "Tara... do you feel anything for me?"

She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter what she felt.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Aryan," she whispered. "We need to move away from each other."

Aryan's throat tightened. He searched her eyes, looking for something—anything—that told him she didn't mean it.

But she just stepped back, her voice softer now. "Take care."

And with that, she turned and walked into her studio, shutting the door behind her.

Aryan stood there, frozen, his hands clenched into fists as silent tears rolled down his face.

💜