The Annual Cultural Fest at Higher Value University wasn't just an event — it was the event.
For one day, the strict academic atmosphere transformed into a riot of colors, music, and laughter. Lights draped across buildings. Food stalls from every corner of India. Performances, games, and outfits that had people doing triple takes.
Dorm 7C was buzzing.
"Do I look like a walking bruise?" Preesha asked, standing in front of the mirror.
Krisha spun from her seat — and promptly dropped her eyeliner.
"No," she said, stunned. "You look like... the main character."
Preesha's deep blue saree flowed like water, with silver embroidery glinting under the dorm lights. Her hair was braided, her kajal sharp, her expression calm — but nervous.
"You think he'll notice?" she asked softly.
Krisha smiled. "If he doesn't, we're sending him to the emergency room. You look gorgeous."
"You're one to talk," Preesha said, eyes widening as Krisha stepped into the room fully dressed.
Krisha's pastel yellow saree was soft, dreamy, almost ethereal. She'd left her hair open, curled gently at the ends. The golden jhumkas she wore shimmered as she moved.
"I look like a mango lassi," Krisha muttered.
"You look like heartbreak," Preesha said. "For someone who isn't supposed to like Abhishek."
Krisha turned away. "Shut up and help me with the pleats."
Outside, the university campus was glowing.
The crowd was massive, and right at the center — Abhishek stood with a few of his law friends, dressed in a crisp black kurta with silver buttons.
He looked... dangerous.
And the second Krisha stepped onto campus, he saw her.
The world slowed.
Her pastel yellow saree swayed with each step. Her smile — bright, awkward, shy — knocked the wind out of him.
"She's here," he muttered.
Next to him, Shaurya (wearing a fire-red kurta, of course) smirked. "You gonna talk to her or just stare until the moon falls out of the sky?"
Abhishek didn't answer.
Chaitanya arrived a little late, medical coat long gone, wearing a charcoal grey kurta. His usual serious expression cracked just a little when he spotted Preesha near the library steps, adjusting her pallu.
He walked over, trying to seem casual.
"Hey," he said.
Preesha looked up and froze.
"Hey," she replied, cheeks instantly warming.
"Blue suits you," he said.
Preesha laughed. "That's dangerously close to flirting, Dr. Chaitanya."
"Noted," he said with a smirk. "I'll scale back to professional compliments."
She grinned. "Please don't."
They stood like that for a while. Not touching. Not talking too much.
But everything was there.
Unspoken. Slow. Safe.
Meanwhile, Krisha was near the food stalls, sipping on rose milk and trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
She failed.
Abhishek walked up slowly, clearing his throat.
"You look—" he stopped. "You look..."
"If you say like a banana, I'm throwing this at you."
He smiled. "I was going to say... stunning."
She blinked.
"Oh."
He stepped closer. "Can we talk?"
"I thought we already did. When we were locked in a room together."
"That was panic. This is choice."
Krisha stared at him.
Before she could respond, a group of students walked by — including Anish, who stopped in his tracks.
He saw Krisha and Abhishek standing close.
And his face fell.
"You guys look good," Anish said, voice strained.
Krisha smiled awkwardly. "Hey."
Abhishek just nodded. "Anish."
Anish gave a small, forced smile. "See you around."
As he walked away, Abhishek turned to Krisha. "He still likes you."
"I know," she said quietly. "And that's why I can't say anything... yet."
Abhishek didn't push.
He just looked at her, the lights of the fest reflecting in his eyes.
"You danced at last year's fest, didn't you?"
Krisha raised an eyebrow. "Stalked me, did you?"
He shrugged. "Maybe."
She grinned. "Maybe I'll dance again this year."
And with that, she walked away.
He stared after her, both proud and ruined.
Later that night, the dance floor lit up.
Students filled the center stage, and music boomed across campus.
Krisha, laughing with Preesha, let herself get pulled into a circle of girls dancing to "Ghagra".
From across the crowd, Abhishek watched.
Shaurya nudged him. "Are you really not going to join?"
"I don't dance," Abhishek said.
But even as he said it, he couldn't take his eyes off her.
She looked like starlight in motion — bright, untouchable, burning.
Preesha, standing near the drinks counter, sipped on lemon soda while Chaitanya stood beside her, silently watching the stage.
"You're not going to ask me to dance, are you?" she teased.
He smiled. "Would you say yes?"
She looked at him. "I don't know. Maybe next fest."
He nodded. "I'll wait."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.
As the fest reached its peak, Krisha finally spotted Abhishek again, standing just beyond the lights, staring at her like she was the only person in the world.
She walked toward him slowly.
And in a moment that neither of them fully understood yet, he held out his hand.
She didn't take it.
But she didn't walk away either.
Because something was building — and when it finally broke...
They wouldn't be able to ignore it anymore.