The dorm felt unusually quiet that evening.
Haniya sat on her bed, knees pulled close to her chest, staring at nothing in particular. Everything had been said—too much, maybe—but the weight of it all hadn't lifted yet. Truth didn't heal instantly. Sometimes it only made the ache clearer.
Aarav hadn't left her side. He sat on the floor near her bed, back against the wall, scrolling mindlessly on his phone without really seeing anything. His presence was calm, grounding, but his mind was elsewhere.
Across the city, Reyansh watched the video again.
The clip wasn't long—barely twenty seconds. Haniya trying to pull her hand back. His grip tightening in frustration. His words sharp and final: "Do whatever you want. Now you're nothing to me."
Reyansh slammed his phone down.
"That's not what I meant," he muttered to himself. Anger flickered in his eyes—not at Haniya alone, but at himself. He knew how that scene looked. He knew how easily people twisted stories. And worse—he knew Haniya would never explain herself to the world.
His phone rang.
Ayaan.
Reyansh hesitated, then answered. "What?"
"You saw it?" Ayaan asked.
"Yes," Reyansh replied coldly. "And I'm guessing you've seen more than that."
Ayaan sighed. "She told the truth today. About everything."
Reyansh closed his eyes briefly. "So she chose him."
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them.
"She was always going to," Ayaan continued quietly. "We just refused to see it."
Reyansh clenched his jaw. "I was trying to protect her."
"And ended up hurting her," Ayaan said. "Same as me."
Another pause.
"My sister wants to come to India," Ayaan added.
Reyansh's eyes snapped open. "Aira?"
"She thinks Aarav belongs to her," Ayaan said bitterly. "I tried explaining. She won't listen."
Reyansh exhaled slowly. "This is going to explode."
"Already is," Ayaan replied.
Back at the dorm, there was a soft knock on Haniya's door.
Vivaan peeked in first. "Uh… can we come?"
Haniya nodded weakly.
Vivaan, Harsh, and Kashvi entered quietly, none of their usual noise or teasing. Kashvi sat beside Haniya and gently took her hand.
"You okay?" Kashvi asked.
Haniya gave a small smile. "Not really. But I will be."
Harsh scratched the back of his neck. "That video's messed up. People are saying stuff online."
Vivaan added quickly, "But we shut down anyone talking nonsense in the group chats."
Haniya looked at them, eyes soft. "Thank you."
Aarav finally stood up. "She doesn't need to worry about rumors. She needs rest."
Vivaan nodded. "Coach's already angry."
Almost on cue, Aarav's phone buzzed.
Coach.
Aarav stepped out into the corridor to take the call.
Coach's voice was sharp. "What is happening with Haniya? First performance drop, now rumors?"
"She's under pressure," Aarav replied evenly. "Not distracted."
"Pressure doesn't excuse attitude," Coach snapped. "She walked out on me."
"She was hurt," Aarav said. "And you crossed a line."
Coach scoffed. "She's changing. Fame, arrogance—"
"That's enough," Aarav cut in, voice firm. "You don't know her."
There was a stunned silence on the other end.
"I'll talk to her father," Coach finally said.
"Good," Aarav replied. "Because he trusts her."
He ended the call and stood still for a moment, fists clenched.
Inside, Haniya's phone rang again.
Unknown number.
She didn't pick it up.
A few seconds later, it stopped.
Then a message popped up.
Aira: Hi Haniya. We need to talk.
Haniya's fingers trembled as she locked the screen.
Aarav came back in and immediately noticed her expression. "What happened?"
"She's here," Haniya said quietly. "Aira."
His face darkened slightly. "I know."
Kashvi frowned. "Who's Aira?"
Aarav replied before Haniya could. "Ayaan's sister."
"And trouble," Harsh muttered.
Haniya lay back against the pillow, exhaustion finally claiming her. "I don't want to fight anyone anymore."
Aarav sat beside her and brushed her hair back gently. "You don't have to. I'll handle it."
She looked at him, eyes filled with both fear and trust. "Promise?"
"I promise," he said softly.
Outside, the night grew deeper.
Reyansh stood on his balcony, phone in hand, typing and deleting the same message over and over.
I'm sorry.
He never sent it.
Some apologies needed time.
And some storms needed to break before the air could finally clear.