The buzz started small — a laugh caught between classes, a lingering glance on set, a rumor passed in the hallway like a secret note.
By the third day, it wasn't a whisper anymore. It was an echo.
"Did you see Aarav and Rhea at the studio again?""They're always together these days…""Of course they are — he's totally into her."
The words slipped through the air like smoke — impossible to catch, impossible to stop.
The Echo Spreads
Rhea felt it first. The stares during lectures, the way conversations stopped when she entered a room. It didn't bother her at first — until it started to follow her everywhere.
When she stepped into the editing lab, even the hum of the computers couldn't drown out the murmurs.
Aarav was waiting there, papers in hand. "You okay? You look… tense."
She forced a smile. "Just tired. People have been talking."
He laughed, brushing it off. "Let them. We're making something worth talking about."
But Rhea's smile didn't reach her eyes.
Behind them, Kabir pretended to focus on his lines. He could hear everything — every cruel giggle, every careless assumption. He clenched his jaw.
He wanted to say something. Instead, he said nothing.
Behind Closed Doors
That evening, the three of them sat in the campus café, their favorite corner booth half-lit by neon signs.
Aarav, as always, was full of plans. "We've got momentum now. Next festival, we go bigger — more emotional depth, tighter script—"
"Maybe fewer rumors," Rhea interrupted softly.
He froze mid-sentence.
Kabir looked up from his coffee. "She's right, Aarav. People are talking."
"So what?" Aarav scoffed, leaning back. "We can't control gossip. We focus on work. Let them think what they want."
Rhea's gaze dropped to the table. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one they're whispering about."
Something in Aarav's tone shifted. "You think I don't care what they say about you?"
Kabir watched the tension spark between them like static. He wanted to cut in, to defuse it — but instead, he stayed silent again, his chest tightening with a familiar ache.
The Quiet Defender
The next morning, Kabir overheard two seniors near the sound room.
"She's only getting attention because Aarav writes for her.""Yeah, poor Kabir's just tagging along."
The words hit like a punch.
Kabir stepped forward before he could think. "Say that again."
The guys blinked. "Whoa, chill, man. It's just a joke."
"Then keep it that way," Kabir said, voice low, eyes steady. "Because she earned every bit of it. And he did too."
They backed off. But as Kabir walked away, he realized his hands were shaking.
He didn't know what hurt more — hearing them insult Rhea or knowing that part of what they said wasn't wrong.
Between Lines Unspoken
That evening, Rhea found him in the rehearsal hall, alone, reciting lines under his breath.
"You practicing again?" she asked softly.
He looked up, startled, then smiled. "Always."
Rhea sat beside him on the wooden floor, cross-legged. "I heard what you did today. Thank you."
Kabir shrugged, trying to play it off. "You'd have done the same for me."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe. But still… thanks."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was heavy, filled with things neither dared to say.
Her hand brushed his as she adjusted her script. He froze. So did she.
Their eyes met — a heartbeat too long. Then she looked away.
"I should go," she murmured, standing quickly. "Aarav's waiting to discuss tomorrow's scene."
And just like that, the distance between them became something real.
When the Lights Fade
That night, Kabir walked past the film studio. Through the glass, he saw them — Rhea and Aarav — arguing, laughing, creating. The kind of connection that didn't need words.
He wanted to walk in. Instead, he turned away.
Outside, rain began to fall — soft at first, then steady, drenching the empty courtyard.
Kabir stood there until the world blurred. If being their shadow keeps them shining, he thought, then maybe that's where I belong.