Ayaan couldn't focus the rest of the day.
Not in class.
Not while Rohan rambled about football.
Not even when Naina stole his chips and made a scene about it.

His mind was stuck in one loop.
Her wrist.
Her pulse under his fingers.
The way her eyes had widened, like he'd seen too much.

"Bhai tu sun bhi raha hai?" Rohan snapped his fingers in front of him.

Ayaan blinked. "Huh?"

"Main 20 minute se goal ke baare mein bol raha hu, aur tujhe hawa ka direction bhi pata nahi."

Naina plopped beside them. "Goal ka direction? yaha toh bas tu hi gol haii toh tere muh par maardu football!"

Rohan scowled. Ayaan just shook his head. He laughed but his thoughts whispered something else entirely:

"I should've let go... but God, the way her pulse beat against mine, like it was playing my song—I don't ever want to forget that. "I didn't let go because I can't. Not of her. Not ever."

His pen tapped against the desk restlessly. He caught himself sketching random music notes in the margin of his notebook, his handwriting messier than usual.
It wasn't a song yet, but the rhythm in his head belonged to her heartbeat.

***

The notice board was suddenly glowing with colors — big, flashy letters screamed:

"ANNUAL CULTURAL FEST – Sign Ups Open!"

Students crowded around, buzzing with excitement.

Rohan squinted at the poster. "Arre yeh kya circus laga rakha hai? Singing, drama, debate, fashion show... matlab torture ka buffet."

Before Aziza could turn away, Naina clasped her hands dramatically.
"GUYSSSS. Hum sign up kar rahe hain."

Aziza blinked. "Excuse me? Hum matlab?"

"Hum matlab tum, main, Rohan aur Ayaan." Naina grinned like a villain.

Rohan choked. "Main? Stage pe? Public ke saamne? Are you mad, Naina? Main toh dialogue bolne se pehle hi faint ho jaunga."

Naina flicked her hair. "Tu sirf background ka ped ban jana. Easy."

"Ped?!" Rohan gasped. "Main ped banne se better hai ghar pe so jaun!"

Aziza crossed her arms. "Naina, mujhe yeh sab nahi karna. I'm not interested."

"Exactly!" Naina smirked. "Issi liye toh tujhe karna hai. Tum boring ho, Aziza. Thoda spice chahiye life mein."

The words stung. A flashback of a cruel whisper from years ago rang in her ears — "Tum boring ho, Aziza. Nobody wants to sit with you."
Her chest tightened, but she stayed silent.

Meanwhile, Ayaan, who had been leaning against the wall, headphones around his neck, muttered, "Count me out."

Naina turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Tum toh bilkul hi nahi bach sakte, mister silent-guitar-boy. Tum perform karoge. Bas."

Ayaan looked up, startled. "Main? No chance."

"Chance nahi, order hai." Naina folded her arms. "Tumhe main stage pe kheench ke le jaungi agar tumne na kaha toh."

Rohan added with fake enthusiasm, "Haan Ayaan, please kar na. Main toh waise bhi ped banne wala hoon. At least tu kuch toh interesting karega."

Ayaan shot him a death glare.

Aziza, watching all this, expected him to argue back. But he didn't. His jaw clenched, his eyes dropped. Almost like... he was hiding something.

***

NEXT DAY IN COLLEGE 

The classroom buzzed with chaos as Naina stood in the middle, arms folded like a dictator.
"Okay, sab log dhyaan se suno," she clapped dramatically, "talent fest aa raha hai and hum chaaron ko perform karna hi hoga. Koi excuse nahi chalega."

Rohan groaned, slumping into his chair. "Mere bas ka kuch nahi hai yaar. Main toh audience ko bas bore karunga."

"Shut up, Rohan!" Naina shot back. "Tu bhi karega. Pehle decide karte hain kaun kya karega."

Her sharp gaze fell on Aziza. "Tu toh dance karegi, done!"

Aziza froze. "What?"

"Classical, obviously," Naina said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "We've all seen how good you are. Matlab tu toh aag laga degi stage pe."

Aziza's throat tightened. Her fingers clutched the corner of her dupatta, knuckles pale.
"Main... main nahi kar sakti."

Rohan sat up, surprised. "Arrey kyun? You're amazing at it, Azizaa!"

Ayaan, who had been quietly strumming his guitar at the back, finally looked up. His eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary. He noticed the way her smile didn't reach her eyes, the way she blinked too fast like she was holding something back.

"Main dance nahi karungi," Aziza said firmly, though her voice wavered. "Please, bas... nahi."

For a second, the room fell silent. Naina opened her mouth to argue again but stopped when she saw the flicker of hurt cross Aziza's face. Rohan frowned, confused, and Ayaan just strummed his guitar softly, gaze still fixed on her.

Naina sighed and threw her hands up. "Fine! If not dance, then... kuch aur. Storytelling maybe? Tu bolti achha hai, .Stage pe jaake ek kahani suna de."

Aziza blinked, startled. "Storytelling?"

"Haan!" Naina grinned, already convinced of her own idea. "Apni kahaniyaan, ya koi purani. Tere expressions ke saath, audience ko pakka bandhe rakhegi."

Aziza hesitated, chewing her lip, but this time there wasn't that same heaviness in her eyes. "Kaisi kahani" she murmured.

"Koi bhi likh tu kitna acha likhti haii meri personal poet!"

"Mujhe toh bas ek story yad hai"

"kaunsi?" Naina asked curiously

"Birju aur seema burger kha rahe the jab ekdum se ganji chudail aajati hai..." Aziza started and the whole group burst into laughter.

"Arey bhenn hurrrrr" Naina said in between her laughs.

"Haan par tu kar storytelling, No excuses!" 

Ayaan strummed one last chord, quiet but steady. "Storytelling suits you," he said simply, eyes meeting hers for a second before flicking away.

Aziza looked down, hiding the small, reluctant smile that tugged at her lips. " Okay maybe..."

"Aziza ka ho gaya—storytelling. Next, Mr. Rockstar ki baari." She pointed straight at Ayaan.

Ayaan, still tuning his guitar strings lazily, raised a brow. "Meri baari? Main toh bas background music dunga."

"Background music?!" Naina's eyes widened like she'd just heard blasphemy. "You're Ayaan Malhotra. Tum sirf strum karke chup baith jaoge? No way. Tumhe gaana padega."

Ayaan chuckled, shaking his head. "Naina, mujhe gaane ka shauk nahin hai. I play, that's it."

"I've rarely heard you sing I'm sure tu gaata hai par mujhe tujhpr shak h"

"Naina, pagal hai kya? shak hai kya hota h mujhe nhi aata gaana vanaa" he tilted his head at her with a soft smirk, "—tu toh waise bhi gaati hai na. Bas wahi kar le. Sorted."

The way he said it wasn't mocking, just simple like stating a truth he'd always known.
Naina blinked. "Main?"

"Haan. Tu gaati hai. Aur acha gaati hai. Bas wahi karna." His voice was calm, almost gentle in its certainty.

For a second, Naina actually went quiet. Then, of course, she recovered with a huff. "Haan toh fine! Main gaungi. Par mai solo gaaungi toh tu bas guitarr play krle" She twirled like a diva.

Rohan sprawled across the beanbag, arms behind his head, acting like the entire "fest practice" didn't concern him.

"Arre tu kya karega?" Naina finally asked, turning toward him with her bossy eyebrow raise.

"Main?" Rohan sat up dramatically, "Main crowd cheer karunga. Sabko support karna bhi ek talent hota hai, samjhi?"

Naina narrowed her eyes. "Rohan..."

He put both hands up in surrender. "Sach bol raha hoon! Mujhe koi talent nahi aata. Na gaana, na bajana, na dance, na poetry. Main kya hi karun?"

Aziza tilted her head, about to say something, but stopped.

Rohan, still pretending to yawn, stretched his arms and said,
"Dekho, main stage pe na nikalta hoon... kyunki main jab bhi spotlight mein aata hoon, log talent ke bajaye flaws count karte hain. Aur clap kabhi kissi ne mere liye kiya nhi"

He grinned immediately after, adding in a sing-song tone,
"Isliye main apne flaws ko full-time comedy bana deta hoon."

everyone laughed, taking it as his usual nautanki.

But Naina's smile froze for a second. That one line echoed in her mind 'log flaws count karte hain... Kabhi kissi ne mere liye clap nhi kiya'
She looked at him, wanting to ask if he really meant it—but Rohan had already flopped back onto the beanbag, making funny faces to cover up the heaviness.

_______________________________________________________________________________

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