"She was the ripple on the surface of ocean, in the depths of which I rested in peace.....but she was starting to resonate in me"
The annual open dance competition wasn't really Aarav's scene. Crowded auditorium, loud music, overexcited undergrads — he usually had better things to do. But this time, his batchmates insisted on going, claiming it was their "last year tradition." Aarav went along, settling into a seat at the edge, as far away from the chaos as possible.
He wasn't paying attention — not until he heard her.
Aradhya wasn't on stage. She was in the audience, just a few rows ahead, bouncing in her seat like she had more energy than the dancers themselves. One of her friends had entered the competition, and Aradhya had taken it upon herself to be the loudest cheerleader in the hall.
"THAT'S RIGHT, PRIYA! SHOW THEM HOW IT'S DONE!" she hollered, cupping her hands around her mouth. "YES GIRL, OWN THE STAGE!"
People turned, laughing, some clapping along. Priya, the nervous contestant, visibly straightened under the encouragement. Aarav noticed how Aradhya didn't just cheer—she radiated belief, so much that it almost dragged the audience into it.
When Priya hit a difficult step, aradhya leapt up, punching the air. "SEE? I TOLD YOU SHE'S THE BEST! GET THAT TROPHY, PRIYA!"
Her other friends giggled, but Aarav also caught the way a few girls side-eyed their own boyfriends, as if silently asking, why don't you hype me up like that? One guy sitting two rows down muttered something defensive to his girlfriend, earning a sharp elbow in return.
Aradhya, oblivious, was on her feet by the finale, clapping wildly, laughing without restraint, her braid swinging as she yelled: "PRIYAAA! YOU LEGEND!"
The hall erupted in applause when Priya finished, but Aarav's eyes weren't on the stage. They lingered on aradhya—on the way she made someone else shine brighter just by being unapologetically loud, unpolished, and sincere.
For a man who lived by measured words and restrained gestures, her brand of shameless loyalty was… disarming.
He didn't clap. Not because he wasn't impressed, but because he realized, with a strange jolt, that he'd been smiling. Actually smiling. And that was not something he was supposed to do.
So he leaned back into the shadows of his seat, expression neutral again, eyes still fixed on her.
Aradhya Tripathi was chaos.
And yet, he couldn't look away.
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"Come on loosen up ice berg" she spoke utterly done with his cold shoulder.
She leaned forward punching him square on his shoulder making him stumble in shock at suddeness of her action.
"Woah woah, miss, what was that for" he remarked amused looking down with a smile at the women, half his size, man handling him.
"You think retorting to violence would help me loosen up huh" he retorted back pushing her back earning surprised giggles as she tried to keep her balance..... bringing a smile on his face only she could manage.
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When the competition first round ended and the crowd began buzzing with chatter, aradhya didn't waste a second. She practically launched herself through the throng of people and flung her arms around Priya the moment she stepped down from the stage.
"You were INSANE out there!" aradhya shouted, squeezing her so tightly that Priya let out a half-laugh, half-yelp.
Priya, still giddy with adrenaline, hugged her back with equal force — except she underestimated her own momentum. Aradhya stumbled backwards from the impact, nearly losing her balance. Instead of being embarrassed, she burst into a stream of giggles, clutching her stomach.
"Priyaaa! You're supposed to slay the stage, not me!" she managed between laughs.
The others around them chuckled, shaking their heads, but Aarav noticed how genuine it all was. No pretenses, no performance for anyone else's benefit. Just two friends, glowing in each other's happiness, collapsing into laughter like children.
Aradhya's braid had loosened, strands of hair falling into her face. She didn't push them back, didn't care how she looked in front of everyone. She just laughed louder, the sound spilling into the auditorium long after others had settled into polite claps and congratulations.
And somehow, watching her — flushed with joy, eyes crinkled, posture unguarded — felt louder to Aarav than the music had been all evening.
He didn't join the laughter. He just sat there, composed as ever, arms crossed, his gaze trained on her.
Because in that moment, he realized something unsettling:
Aradhya Tripathi wasn't just noticeable.
She was unforgettable.