She found him where she knew he'd be—leaning against the far end of the basketball court, hoodie drawn up, hands shoved in his pockets.
For a long moment, she just stood there, staring. The air between them was heavier than any gossip.
Finally, Aarav spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut sharper than a shout."Is it true?"
Her throat tightened. "Aarav—"
"Don't." His jaw flexed, eyes flashing. "Don't soften it. Just tell me. You and Riyan—was it all just… rumors?"
Her silence was answer enough.
It felt like the ground had been ripped from under him.He'd known—somewhere deep down, he'd known—but hearing nothing was worse than hearing yes.
"All this time," he said, the words breaking, "I stood by you. Watched you laugh with him. Fight with him. And I kept telling myself it was nothing. That you'd never…"
He trailed off, running a hand through his hair, the hurt spilling raw."You could've told me, Ananya. You could've told me before the whole campus did."
Tears burned her eyes."I didn't mean for it to happen," she whispered. "I didn't want to hurt you."
He laughed bitterly, the sound sharp. "But you did. You already have."
The words landed like stones.
"I—" she faltered, words crumbling. "Aarav, you're my friend. My—my safe place. I didn't want to lose that."
"Too late." His voice cracked, softer now, but crueler because of it. "You already did."
He couldn't look at her anymore.Because if he did, he'd break—completely.
So he turned away, walking off into the night, leaving her standing under the court lights, tears sliding down her cheeks, a hollow ache in his chest that felt like betrayal and love tangled into one.
Her hands trembled. Her heart felt split down the middle.Losing Aarav like this—feeling his disappointment, his heartbreak—was almost worse than the rumors.
And for the first time, she wondered if choosing Riyan meant she'd have to destroy everything else she'd ever had.