The next few days felt unreal.
Wherever Meera went, eyes followed. Not with mockery — worse — with approval.
Professors who had barely remembered her name now smiled when she answered. Her photography project was suddenly chosen for the campus exhibition. Even the dean, who had once scolded her for skipping a lecture, stopped her in the corridor to say, "Good work, Miss Joshi. You're finally focused."
She wanted to scream. Because she knew exactly who was behind it.
Aarav didn't need to shout or threaten. He didn't have to stand beside her. He just had to exist. His influence reached places she couldn't.
Every praise she received felt poisoned. Every compliment, a reminder of his invisible hand.
At lunch, Priya waved a flyer in front of her. "Guess what? Your photo's on the festival banner! It looks amazing!"
Meera froze. "What?"
Priya grinned. "The one of the rain-soaked courtyard? They said Aarav suggested your name when the council was shortlisting photographers. You're practically famous now."
Meera's throat went dry. "He—what?"
"Hey, don't sound so horrified!" Priya laughed. "He's helping your career. If someone like Malhotra supports you, why not take it?"
Because it isn't help, Meera thought. It's ownership.
That evening, she found him in the law library — the one place that still felt too quiet for lies. He sat by the window, sunlight slicing across his desk, highlighting the crisp lines of his blazer. He didn't look surprised when she approached.
"You need to stop this," she said flatly. "The professors. The council. My project. Stop pulling strings."
Aarav didn't look up from his book. "Why?"
"Because it's my work, not yours."
"It's still yours," he said softly. "I'm just ensuring it's valued properly."
"That's not value," she hissed. "That's control."
He finally lifted his gaze, calm as ever. "If the world ignores your worth, what's wrong with me reminding them?"
Her pulse spiked. "Because you're not letting me stand on my own!"
Aarav closed the book. "You're standing," he said quietly, "because I built the ground under your feet."
The words hit her like ice.
He wasn't boasting. He was stating it — like gravity, like truth.
That night, she scrolled through her messages, fingers trembling.
The student council had tagged her in a post. "Special thanks to Aarav Malhotra for recommending our featured photographer, Meera Joshi."
She stared at the screen until her vision blurred.
Every victory she had was painted with his shadow.
And the worst part was, she couldn't even tell anyone — because everyone around her thought he was helping.