The lights dimmed.
The air in the college auditorium was thick with anticipation — a hundred whispering voices, the smell of popcorn and perfume, the hum of the projector starting to roll.
Rhea's hands trembled as she clutched the edge of her seat. It's just a student film, she told herself. Just five minutes. Just us.
But her heartbeat didn't listen.
Beside her, Aarav leaned forward, eyes sharp with pride and anxiety all at once. His jaw flexed — the director in him already scanning for flaws before the first frame appeared.
And a few seats away, Kabir sat still, almost too still, his fingers tapping against his knee in silent rhythm. He wasn't watching the screen yet. He was watching them.
The Screen Comes Alive
The opening scene glowed to life — their world unfolding on the silver canvas. Rhea's camera angles. Aarav's words. Kabir's voice-over, deep and steady, carrying emotion no script could capture.
The audience quieted.
Every moment of chaos, laughter, and exhaustion came back — late-night editing in dorm rooms, the rain-soaked shoot, the near fights, the endless retakes.
When Rhea's shot appeared — the close-up she almost deleted — Aarav whispered, "Perfect."
Rhea turned to look at him, but he was already lost in the film. The flickering light played across his face, and for a second, she saw what he would become — a man married to stories, to dreams larger than life.
Kabir's chest tightened as he caught that look between them. He forced a smile, even though it felt like applause before heartbreak.
The Applause That Changed Everything
The final frame froze — their names fading across the screen.
For a moment, silence. Then — thunder.
Applause erupted, wild and genuine. The audience stood, cheering, whistling, shouting their names.
Aarav exhaled for the first time in minutes, running a hand through his hair, a grin spreading across his face.
Rhea turned to him, laughing through tears. "We did it."
He laughed too, pulling her into a sudden, breathless hug. Cameras flashed; someone in the crowd shouted, "The dream team!"
Kabir stood behind them, clapping with the rest, his smile soft but distant. When Rhea turned and pulled him into the embrace, he finally allowed himself to feel it — the warmth, the belonging, the promise they once made.
Make it big together.
After the Applause
The crowd didn't stop talking about the film. Professors praised the storytelling; students quoted lines from memory. Aarav was already surrounded by faculty, shaking hands, receiving congratulations.
Rhea slipped away from the noise for a moment, stepping out into the cool night air behind the auditorium. The campus glittered with fairy lights, a leftover from the festival.
Kabir followed, two cups of cold coffee in hand. "For the star editor."
She smiled, taking it. "For the star actor."
He shrugged. "Supporting actor, technically."
"Still my favorite," she said without thinking.
Kabir froze. The words hit harder than she knew. He wanted to say something — You're my favorite too — but the sound of Aarav calling her name from behind stopped him.
Dreamers Under the Lights
Aarav jogged over, breathless with excitement. "Rhea! You won't believe it — the festival coordinator loved our film. He's sending it to a national student showcase!"
Rhea gasped. "Wait—are you serious?"
Kabir felt his heart drop and lift all at once. National. That word changed everything.
Aarav's grin was unstoppable. "We're going to Mumbai."
Rhea's laughter rang out like fireworks. She turned to Kabir, eyes wide with disbelief. "We're actually doing it."
Kabir smiled — not for himself, but for her. "Yeah," he whispered. "We're really doing it."
The Night Before Tomorrow
Later that night, when the celebrations had quieted and everyone drifted back to their rooms, Kabir stayed behind in the empty auditorium.
The projector light still flickered faintly, replaying the last frame of their film — "A story about three dreamers who refused to give up."
He sank into a seat in the back row.
Maybe this was what love looked like — clapping for someone else's victory, even when your heart ached in the silence.
He whispered to the empty seats, "As long as we're together, that's enough."
But even as he said it, a quiet fear curled in his chest — the fear that someday, success would choose only one of them.