The rain hadn't stopped all night. By the time Tina and Ishaan reached the courtyard, puddles glimmered like black mirrors under the streetlights. She clutched her jacket tighter, not against the cold, but against the unease curling through her chest. The sticky note felt like it was still burning her palm even though Ishaan had pocketed it.
"Who sent this?" His voice was low, controlled, but edged with anger. "Was it Dev? Or Riya?"
"Does it matter?" Tina said, keeping her eyes on the slick pavement. "This isn't new for me. Just a rerun of an old movie."
"Yeah, well, I don't like the script," Ishaan muttered.
Something about his tone made her stop walking. "You can't fight shadows, Ishaan. They'll just slip through your fingers."
"Maybe. But I can stand between them and you." He turned to face her, rain dripping from his hair. "Tina, I don't know what they did back then, but I can see what it's still doing to you now. And I—"
"Don't." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the rain. She didn't need his pity. She didn't want his concern to turn into something she couldn't handle. Not when her past was clawing its way back into the present.
Ishaan didn't back down. "Fine. I won't say it. But I'll be here. Whether you want me to or not."
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to the space between them—the sound of rain, their breaths mingling in the mist, the weight of things unspoken. Tina forced herself to look away. If she looked too long, she'd start wanting to believe him. And wanting was dangerous.
---
The next day, the hackathon venue buzzed like an overcharged circuit. The large innovation hall was filled with students, laptops open, coffee cups stacked like ammunition. Tina and Ishaan found their workstation near the far corner. Mira, cheerful as always, waved them over.
"Ready to wipe the floor with these amateurs?" Mira grinned, already plugging in her device.
Tina's lips curved in a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her focus slid toward the far end of the hall, where Dev and Riya were stationed with another team. Dev's smirk was still as lazy as ever, like a reflex. Riya, with her perfect posture and glossy hair, didn't even glance in Tina's direction. That somehow stung more than any insult.
"Forget them," Ishaan murmured, noticing her gaze. "They don't deserve headspace rent."
"I know," Tina replied softly, fingers flying over her keyboard. "But I can't code away memories."
"Maybe not. But you can build something stronger than them." He nudged her lightly. "Besides, our prototype's already miles ahead."
Her lips twitched. "Confidence suits you."
"Only because I'm standing next to someone who makes me look smarter."
She rolled her eyes, but her heart wasn't as steady as she wanted it to be.
---
By evening, the tension between teams had reached its peak. Everyone was running on caffeine, adrenaline, and the silent pressure of looming deadlines. Tina's encryption module was flawless—every test returned perfect results. Ishaan's user interface sparkled with clean efficiency. Even Mira's last-minute debugging had turned into genius strokes.
But then Riya made her move.
During a networking break, Riya sauntered over, Dev trailing behind her like an unspoken shadow. "Well, well," she said, eyeing Tina's setup. "Still hiding behind code? At least you've upgraded from being the girl who cried in school hallways."
Tina's hands froze on the keyboard. Her nails dug into her palm. Don't react. Don't give her the satisfaction.
Ishaan, however, wasn't as restrained. "Do you have a problem, or are you just bored?"
Riya's smile sharpened. "Relax, hero. I'm just… reminiscing."
"Funny," Tina said, finally meeting Riya's eyes. "I don't remember you coding anything worth remembering."
The look on Riya's face was worth a thousand unsent letters from her past self.
---
That night, when the hackathon paused for a few hours of rest, Tina couldn't sleep. Her mind was too loud—buzzing with memories, with the sting of Riya's words, with the warmth of Ishaan's defense.
She stepped out of the dorm for air and found Ishaan sitting on the steps, a coffee in hand. "You don't sleep either?" she asked.
"Not when there's rain and unfinished conversations," he said without looking up.
She sat beside him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Why do you care?" she asked finally, her voice low. "Why do you keep showing up for me?"
He turned to her then, and his gaze was steady. "Because someone should have. Back then. And now, I want to."
Her throat tightened. For the first time in years, someone's words felt like they were stitching something broken, not tearing it apart.
The rain softened, but inside her, something new was waking up. Something she wasn't ready to name yet.
To be continued...