Chapter 11 – The Festival Dance
They dance together during college fest.
The campus didn't look like itself anymore.
Strings of golden lights wrapped around trees. Colorful fabric banners fluttered from balconies. Music testing echoed across the grounds as volunteers rushed around with clipboards and nervous energy.
The annual college cultural fest had officially begun.
And Meera stood in front of her mirror for the third time in twenty minutes.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself.
She wasn't even performing.
She had signed up for stage coordination — which meant running around backstage, fixing mic issues, guiding performers.
Yet her heart beat like she was the one about to step under the spotlight.
Because tonight, Aarav would be there.
Not just there.
With her.
She chose a deep blue lehenga — simple but elegant. Not too loud. Not too plain. Silver earrings. Hair half tied, the rest falling softly down her shoulders.
When she stepped onto campus, everything felt alive.
Music pulsed through the air. Students laughed louder than usual. Seniors pretended to be more confident than they were.
And near the main stage—
She saw him.
Aarav stood near the sound console, sleeves rolled up, helping one of the tech volunteers. He wore a black kurta — simple, clean, effortless.
Her breath caught.
He looked up.
And froze.
For a moment, the noise faded.
The lights blurred.
It was just the two of them standing across a crowded ground.
His eyes moved slowly, almost unconsciously — from her hair… to her earrings… to the soft fall of blue fabric.
He swallowed.
She walked toward him, pretending she wasn't aware of how intensely he was looking.
"You're staring," she said softly.
"I'm trying not to."
"That's not working."
"No."
A faint smile curved on her lips.
"You clean up well," she teased.
"You don't look real," he replied.
Her heart skipped.
"That's dramatic."
"I'm serious."
The honesty in his voice made her cheeks warm.
Before she could reply, someone called her name.
"Meera! We need you backstage!"
She nodded quickly.
"Duty calls."
He stepped slightly closer.
"Don't disappear."
"I won't."
She hesitated for a second.
"Stay."
"I'm not going anywhere."
And he meant it.
The evening moved quickly.
Performances began.
Dance groups.
Singing competitions.
Comedy skits.
From backstage, Meera caught glimpses of the crowd. Every now and then, she searched for him.
And every time—
He was already looking at her.
Not casually.
Not distractedly.
But like he was making sure she was still there.
During a small break between performances, she slipped out to the side of the stage to breathe.
The night air was cooler now. Music hummed in the background.
"You look tired."
She turned.
Aarav stood behind her, hands in his pockets.
"I am," she admitted. "This is more chaotic than I thought."
"You've been running around all evening."
"Occupational hazard."
He stepped closer.
The lights from the stage flickered across his face.
"You haven't watched anything properly," he said.
"I've been busy."
He studied her quietly.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"Just come."
She hesitated.
"I can't just leave—"
"For five minutes," he insisted gently. "No one will notice."
She looked back toward the stage.
Then at him.
"Five minutes."
He nodded once.
He led her through the side of the ground, away from the main crowd. Not far — just near the quieter area where fairy lights hung low from tree branches.
The music from the stage softened into a distant rhythm.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
"Because you haven't enjoyed your own festival."
She smiled faintly.
"I'm enjoying it."
"You're working."
"And you're not?"
"I volunteered for tech. I get to stand in one place."
She laughed softly.
Lucky.
A slow romantic song began playing from the stage speakers — a couple's dance performance.
The melody floated through the night air.
Aarav glanced toward the stage.
Then back at her.
"Dance with me."
Her eyes widened.
"Here?"
"Why not?"
"There's no dance floor."
He looked down at the grass.
"This works."
She shook her head, smiling nervously.
"I don't know how."
"Neither do I."
"That's not reassuring."
He extended his hand anyway.
"Trust me."
Her heart pounded.
She stared at his hand for a second.
Then slowly—
She placed hers in it.
Warm.
Steady.
He gently pulled her a little closer.
Not too close.
Just enough to close the distance between strangers.
"I might step on your foot," she warned.
"I'll survive."
He placed one hand lightly at her waist.
Her breath caught.
She rested her free hand on his shoulder.
The music drifted softly.
They began moving — awkward at first.
Small steps.
Careful shifts.
Nervous laughter.
"This is embarrassing," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Because I can feel my heartbeat in my ears."
He smiled faintly.
"I can feel mine too."
They found a rhythm slowly.
Nothing fancy.
Just swaying gently under the soft glow of fairy lights.
Students laughed in the distance.
The stage lights flickered across the sky.
But here—
It felt quieter.
Slower.
"Remember the bus stop?" he murmured.
She smiled.
"Of course."
"You were scared of thunder."
"I was not."
"You were."
She rolled her eyes.
"And now?"
"Now you're dancing in the middle of a college fest."
"With someone who gets jealous too easily."
He huffed softly.
"I'm working on that."
She smiled.
"I know."
Silence wrapped around them.
Comfortable.
Intimate.
"Meera?" he whispered.
"Yes?"
"If someone asked me when this started… I wouldn't know what to say."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Why?"
"Because I didn't notice when liking you became needing you."
Her steps faltered slightly.
Her heart skipped painfully.
"That's a big word," she said softly.
"I know."
He didn't look away.
"And I don't mean it in a dramatic way."
"Then how?"
"In the way that my day feels incomplete if I don't talk to you."
Her throat tightened.
"I feel that too," she admitted.
The music softened into a slower note.
He gently pulled her a little closer.
Not possessive.
Not demanding.
Just closer.
Her breath mixed with his.
"Are we falling?" she asked quietly.
He thought for a second.
"I think we already are."
She swallowed.
"And we didn't even notice."
He shook his head faintly.
"No."
They kept swaying gently.
Her head tilted slightly.
For a brief second—
She rested it against his shoulder.
He froze.
Then relaxed.
His chin brushed lightly against her hair.
The world felt far away.
"Five minutes," she whispered.
"It's been more."
"Oh."
"Do you want to go back?"
She hesitated.
Then softly—
"Not yet."
His fingers tightened slightly around her hand.
As if afraid she might disappear.
On stage, applause erupted for the dance performance.
But here—
They were still in their own quiet one.
"Promise me something," he murmured.
"What?"
"If this ever gets hard… we don't walk away without talking."
Her chest tightened.
"Okay."
"Promise."
"I promise."
He nodded slightly.
"Good."
The song ended.
Reality slowly returned.
She stepped back gently.
The distance felt colder immediately.
"We should go," she said.
"Yeah."
But neither moved for a second.
Then she smiled.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For making me enjoy my own festival."
He smiled back.
"Thank you for dancing with someone who doesn't know how."
She laughed softly.
"You're not that bad."
"Liar."
They began walking back toward the stage lights.
The noise grew louder again.
The crowd thicker.
But something had changed.
They weren't just two classmates anymore.
They weren't just figuring things out.
They were falling.
Slowly.
Without noticing when it started.
And for the first time—
Neither of them was trying to stop it.