The literary fest had ended by late afternoon, the school gradually emptying as students left with medals, certificates, and stories to tell. The golden sunlight filtered through the gulmohar trees, casting long shadows on the school corridors.
Karthik waited by the cycle stand, his bag slung over one shoulder. His thoughts lingered on Ananya's poem—every line had echoed with a vulnerability he hadn't expected her to share with the world.
But she had.
And he'd been proud.
"Ready to go?" came a soft voice behind him.
He turned. Ananya was there, hair tied in a loose ponytail, the breeze catching a few strands around her face. She wasn't wearing her usual confident smile. Instead, her expression was calm… open.
"Yeah," he said, pushing his cycle alongside hers. "Want to walk for a bit instead of riding?"
She nodded without hesitation.
They walked side by side, wheels creaking gently beside them. The streets were quiet, the occasional honk or temple bell breaking the silence. A few kids played cricket in a nearby alley, but for the most part, it was just the two of them.
"You didn't tell me you were writing that poem," Karthik said after a while.
Ananya shrugged. "I wasn't sure I'd actually perform it. I wrote it at midnight, after that late phone call with you."
Karthik remembered that night clearly. She'd seemed a little off, quieter than usual. He had stayed on the call longer than expected, just… listening.
"I meant it," he said softly. "You don't have to shine all the time. I like the storm in you too."
She stopped walking. He turned, confused, and saw her looking at him with something unreadable in her eyes.
"Do you… really see me, Karthik?"
He blinked. "Of course I do."
"Not just as a 'girl who's different' or someone who's breaking through your darkness," she said, voice low. "But me. Ananya. The mess, the pressure, the dreams I don't say out loud?"
He swallowed. "I'm trying to. I want to. Every day."
That seemed to soften her. She looked away, taking a deep breath.
"I've spent so much of my life performing, you know?" she said. "At home. At school. For relatives, for classmates, for strangers. But on that stage… for once, I wasn't acting."
"And it was beautiful," he said quietly.
Their eyes met again, and something unspoken hung between them—hope, maybe. Or a fragile kind of trust, still growing.
"Come on," she said suddenly, nudging his arm. "Race you to the corner."
He smirked. "Oh, it's on."
They dropped their cycles on the grass and took off running, laughing like kids, like all the burdens they carried had lifted for just a moment.
At the corner, breathless and panting, Karthik reached out and high-fived her. But their hands lingered a little longer than necessary.
Neither of them pulled away.
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Chapter 101