Vedant's POV
The room smelled like samosas and old socks.
Aryan was lying upside down on the bed, scrolling through memes.
Nihal was sketching something on the back of a script.
Mudit was trying to balance a pencil on his nose.
And I was sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling like it might give me answers.
"She looked at you like you were the last page of a book," Aryan said suddenly.
I blinked. "Who?"
"Arohi," he replied, not even looking up. "After your monologue. She didn't clap. She didn't breathe. She just… looked."
Mudit snorted. "That's her version of a standing ovation."
Nihal glanced up. "You okay, Vedant?"
I hesitated.
Then I said it.
"I think I love her."
Silence.
Aryan sat up.
Mudit dropped the pencil.
Nihal stopped sketching.
"You think?" Aryan asked.
"I know," I said. "I just didn't mean to."
Mudit grinned. "That's the best kind."
Nihal leaned forward. "What is it about her?"
I exhaled slowly.
"She's different. She doesn't fill silence—she listens to it. She doesn't rush to fix things—she lets them breathe. And when I speak, she doesn't just hear me. She sees me."
Aryan nodded, serious now. "She makes you want to be honest."
"She makes me want to be better," I said. "Not for her. For me."
But then I paused.
And the fear crept in.
"I'm scared," I admitted.
Mudit raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"
"Of loving her," I said. "Of what it might do to me. I've spent years keeping things in—controlling what I feel, what I show. And now she's in my head, in my chest, in every line I speak. I don't know how to hold it."
Nihal's voice was quiet. "You don't have to hold it alone."
"I'm scared she'll see too much," I continued. "That she'll see the parts I've kept hidden even from myself. And I don't know if I'm ready for that."
Aryan leaned back. "You don't fall in love when you're ready. You fall when you're real."
I looked at them—all of them.
These boys who'd seen me at my worst, teased me at my weirdest, and now sat with me in this moment that felt too big for words.
"She's going to change me," I said quietly.
Mudit grinned. "Good. You needed it."
And as the fan spun above us, and the city hummed outside, I let myself feel it.
The ache.
The hope.
The terrifying joy of loving someone who makes you want to speak.
Even when you're afraid of what the words might reveal.