Ayan sat in his room, uniform crisp yet unbearably heavy. His posture sagged, knee bouncing restlessly, breath shallow. His thumb flicked at the phone—unlock, lock, repeat.
On the black screen, his reflection stared back: pale skin, tight lips, eyes swollen from tears.
At the top of the screen—one name.
Aarav.
The message he couldn't send pressed against his chest. Words weren't enough. He needed to say it in person.
With a shaky exhale, he shut his eyes, gripping the phone. Memory pulled him into the soft glow of Rawat's house, its quiet comfort.
When he looked again, his gaze caught the balcony door—slightly ajar, waiting. And suddenly, he was back on that first night. Aarav stood there in his mind: poised, patient, calm. A presence that never demanded. Just steady. Just there.
...
[The university—Administrative building]
The air smelled of old paper and fresh ink—the inescapable scent of administrative offices.
Ayan stood before the counter, fingers tightening around the file. Arun, at his side, caught the flicker of hesitation but said nothing.
It should have been routine—just signatures and a stamp. Yet the weight of the transfer made every step heavy.
The office staff handed them a file. "Get the signature of your HOD, and by next month your credit will be approved for transfer."
Ayan took the file. It was really going to happen.
Arun rested a steady hand on Ayan's shoulder.
"Let's go."
Ayan nodded, gathering the papers with careful precision. Together, they turned for the door.
The latch clicked shut behind them—
And a voice called out.
"Ayan?"
Both froze.
Familiar. Unexpected. A tether neither had braced for.
A few steps away stood Abhi and Vihan. Curiosity flickered across their faces before something sharper took hold.
Arun's eyes found Abhi's. Relieved yet uncertain. An entire conversation in a glance.
Meanwhile, Vihan's gaze locked on Ayan. "You haven't been in class. What are you doing here?"
Ayan's grip tightened on the file. "Finalizing some documents…"
He didn't want them to find out about his transfer—not until he explained it to Aarav.
But Vihan's eyes dropped to the folder—realization striking.
"Transfer application?"
A pause.
Abhi's expression darkened. "Transfer?" His voice was low, almost disbelieving. "…You're leaving?"
The silence stretched, thick with truth unspoken.
Ayan's throat worked, but no words came. His grip on the file whitened his knuckles.
For a moment, Arun's steady presence lingered like a shield—then he shifted, his hand firm on Ayan's back.
A push toward honesty.
Ayan drew a breath, the weight of their gazes pressing in. His lips parted, the truth finally demanding voice—
...
[ Senior wing ]
The senior wing stretched endlessly, corridors buzzing with low chatter. Yet Abhi and Vihan moved fast, their steps urgent, heavy with the weight they carried.
Inside a classroom, Karan sat by the window. His eyes were fixed on the lecturer, but his mind was elsewhere.
Beside him, Aarav sat slumped, shadows beneath his eyes. Exhaustion clung to him—not just fatigue, but something deeper.
Karan had noticed, tried to reach him. Aarav never responded.
Then—
A shadow fell across the window.
Karan felt it before he saw it. He turned sharply.
Abhi and Vihan stood outside, expressions tight, urgency barely restrained. Unease tightened Karan's chest. He straightened.
"What happened?" His voice was steady, but strained.
Abhi didn't meet his gaze. Instead, he looked at Aarav. "Brother… Ayan is leaving soon."
The classroom fell silent.
Aarav's breath caught. The words pierced through his numbness. His grip on the pen faltered, ink smudging his fingers.
Karan froze too—but only for a heartbeat. Then he shoved his books into his bag, grabbed Aarav's, and slung them over his shoulder.
Aarav didn't move. Couldn't.
Karan reached out, curling his hand around Aarav's wrist, firm and unyielding. Aarav let himself be pulled up and guided through the back door.
...
Outside, the world blurred. The cold iron bench grounded him only slightly as he sank down, fingers digging into his knees, breaths shallow, deliberate.
But pain slipped through anyway, raw and relentless.
Karan leaned against the railing. His voice, when it came, was low but unshakable.
"Aarav… love is a treasure. Once you possess it, you mustn't lose it." A beat. "Stop him."
The words lingered.
Vihan shifted uneasily. "Senior… what if Papa finds out?"
Karan's gaze cut to him, sharp. "And can you bear to see your brother like this?"
The question silenced him.
Abhi and Vihan turned instinctively toward Aarav. He sat hunched, a shadow of himself—quiet, breaking in ways neither of them had seen.
Abhi stepped closer, voice steady. "Brother… let's face it."
Aarav lifted his gaze at last. His eyes were rimmed with turmoil, but when they met Abhi's—something flickered. A spark. Small. Desperate. Alive.
Vihan broke the silence. "I'll come too."
Abhi's head snapped toward him. "No. We can't risk you."
Vihan stiffened, ready to argue—but before he could, Karan held him back, firm and final.
"I will be backing them if anything happens."
...
[Later—Singh's Mansion ]
The Singh mansion loomed ahead, its towering gates guarded by men trained to keep out trouble. And trouble was exactly what Abhi and Aarav looked like as they strode forward—unflinching, eyes locked on the heavy doors beyond.
"Abhi, you can't go in—Mr. Singh is still—" one guard stammered.
"We are here to meet him." Aarav's voice cut sharp as steel. "Let us pass."
The guards hesitated. Aarav's calm, dangerous tone left no room for debate.
"Please move, Uncle," Abhi said, more like an order.
The guards didn't move fast enough. But they still shoved past them.
...
They entered the lavish hall, which thickened with tension and shock. Guards followed them in. The servants around gathered in a circle.
"What's the meaning of this?" The voice was cold, commanding. "Who let them enter?"
It was Mr. Singh, standing at the center, unreadable.
Across from him, Mr. Raj frowned, watching with shock and sharp threat.
Aarav's voice rang out, urgent. "Where is Ayan?"
Hurried footsteps answered.
At the top of the staircase, Arun and Ayan appeared. Their eyes widened at the scene below. They caught Abhi's reckless stance, Aarav's fury—they knew this wouldn't end quietly.
Arun's brows knit, his gaze locking on Abhi in silent demand for an answer.
Ayan's fingers tightened around the railing, his breath caught in his throat.
Aarav's gaze found him, unwavering. "…If you've truly decided to go, I won't stop you. Just… don't let me believe I was the only one who ever wished for us."
Ayan froze, chest tightening as Aarav's raw desperation cut deeper than anything he'd feared.
Mr. Singh's jaw clenched, gaze flicking between them, his patience fraying.
"Throw them out…" A brief pause.
"Call their father, and ask him to take his sons back, or he'll never find them again."
Aarav's jaw clenched. His voice was quiet but defiant. "I love him… and I won't leave without an answer…"
The guards were ready to step in.
"Stop…" Mr. Raj intervened. "Master, calm down…"
The hall stilled. Everything paused.
"Senior…"
Ayan's voice cracked as he descended, Arun shadowing him with concern. At the bottom, he turned to his father.
"Papa… let them go, please."
Abhi caught the flicker in Mr. Singh's eyes—the faintest hesitation beneath the hardness.
Ayan faced Aarav again, voice breaking. "Just go back, Senior. Please…"
Aarav moved toward him. "But—"
Ayan stepped back. His eyes glistened. He bowed his head, holding back his tears.
The plea cut like a blade. Aarav froze, the weight of it sinking in—Ayan was afraid. He couldn't grasp what Ayan was thinking, but it hurt.
Slowly, painfully, Aarav stepped back. Then he walked out.
Abhi followed him. Silently.
The moment they vanished, Ayan's knees buckled. He collapsed to the stairs, tears spilling unchecked.
Arun dropped beside him, gripping his shoulders, grounding him.
Ayan's lips trembled with the confession he could no longer cage. "I'm sorry, Brother… but I love Senior Aarav."
His breath hitched, voice breaking. "I never tried to make sense of it… I only know that with him… I feel alive."
Mr. Singh froze. Shock flashed, anger followed—yet beneath it, a flicker of raw hurt, quickly buried.
Mr. Raj's gaze dropped, unreadable. The servants lowered their heads, too afraid to breathe.
And in the center of it all, Ayan wept, the truth hanging in the vast hall, fragile yet immovable.