Arista's pov
I didn't realize how much something could change without anything actually happening.
Nothing dramatic occurred that day. No shouting, no confrontation, no confession that flipped my life upside down. And yet, the air felt heavier, like everything was waiting—either for the wrong step to collapse or the right one to finally breathe.
Festival week had officially taken over the school. Corridors were louder, classrooms messier, teachers more tolerant than usual.
Posters hung crooked on walls, wires taped to the floor, students ran around clutching clipboards like their lives depended on it.
Chaos everywhere.
And somehow, in all that noise, I felt steady.
That scared me more than panic ever had.
I stood near the auditorium entrance, holding a stack of papers I'd already memorized, watching people move around like pieces on a board. Sana and Zoe argued over decorations. Meera was nowhere to be seen—probably hiding in the music room again. Advi waved at me from across the hall, eating later.
And then there was Kaelor.
He wasn't doing anything special. Just standing near the stage, talking to one of the volunteers, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed but alert. He looked like he belonged there—not because he wanted attention, but because the space seemed to adjust around him.
I hated that my eyes kept finding him.
I hated that my chest felt lighter whenever he was in my line of sight.
I forced myself to look away.
Why now?
After everything.
"Arista."
I turned before I even realized I wanted to.
Kaelor stood a few steps away, holding a folded sheet of paper. "The event coordinator wants your signature."
"Oh. Yeah." I reached for it, our fingers brushing for half a second.
It wasn't electric.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was warm.
That was worse.
Our eyes met—not intense, not awkward.
Just quiet.
"Are you okay?" he asked again, softer this time.
I nodded. "Yeah. I think I am."
He studied my face, like he was searching for cracks. I didn't look away.
"Good," he said finally. "You don't look like you're about to disappear today."
Something twisted in my chest.
"I don't plan to."
He nodded once, as if that answer settled something inside him, then turned back toward the stage.
And I stood there, wondering when exactly he had started feeling like someone I could lean on without falling apart.
I kept my distance afterward, or at least I told myself I did. But every time I moved, I was aware of him—where he stood, who he spoke to, the way his presence anchored the room without trying.
Later, while rehearsal dragged on and the auditorium lights dimmed and brightened again, I sat on the edge of the stage, feet dangling, listening to Mira complain behind me.
"This event is going to kill me."
"You love drama," Zoe replied.
"Not this kind."
I smiled faintly.
From where I sat, I could see Kaelor adjusting a mic stand, explaining something to a junior calmly, patiently. No arrogance. No show. Just quiet competence.
I remembered the way he'd held me when I couldn't breathe—not tight, not possessive. Just enough.
Safe.
That word echoed again, uninvited.
My throat tightened.
I gathered my things as evening settled in and the hall slowly emptied. My phone buzzed—Meera asking if I was okay.
Yeah. Just tired, I typed back.
It wasn't a lie.
Before I left, I glanced back once more.
Kaelor stood alone on the stage now, the lights low, shadows soft around him. He looked different like that. Smaller. Less untouchable.
Our eyes met across the empty hall.
He didn't smile.
Neither did I.
But we didn't look away.
And in that quiet moment, I realized something terrifying and beautiful at the same time.
Whatever this was between us—
It had already begun.
Even if neither of us dared to name it yet.