Episode1

The corridor buzzed with chatter, the noise of students echoing off the pale walls, but to Aarohi it all sounded distant, muted, as if she were trapped behind glass. Her steps slowed the moment she caught sight of him—Vivaan, walking just a few paces ahead.

He looked exactly the same as always—tall, with the careless kind of charm that drew people in without him even realizing it. His black hair fell slightly over his forehead, his laughter warm and unguarded. But what stopped her heart wasn’t just him.

It was the way his hand was clasped with someone else’s.

The girl beside him, Meera, leaned close as if the world belonged only to them. Her long hair swung as she laughed at something Vivaan whispered, and he—he smiled back, the kind of smile Aarohi had dreamed of, memorized in a hundred secret daydreams. Except it wasn’t hers. It never was.

Aarohi froze near the lockers, her breath caught halfway in her throat. It was such a simple, ordinary sight—a boy holding his girlfriend’s hand, walking together as if nothing else mattered. People around them probably thought they were cute. Sweet. Perfect.

But for her, it felt like someone had reached inside her chest and crushed everything she had been carefully hiding for a year.

Vivaan didn’t look back. Not even once. His fingers remained laced with Meera’s, their steps in sync, their voices fading as they walked farther down the hallway.

Aarohi bit her lip so hard it nearly bled. Her hands trembled around the strap of her bag. She tried to blink, to hold back the sting in her eyes, but it was no use—the tears came anyway, blurring her vision until all she could see was his retreating back.

It hurt. God, it hurt so much.

The laughter of her classmates faded. The sound of shoes squeaking on the floor disappeared. All that remained was the echo of his voice in her head, the way he had smiled when he once asked her for a pen, the way her heart had flipped when he had looked at her during class, the way she had convinced herself—foolishly—that maybe, maybe, one day, she could matter to him.

But dreams were cruel.

She turned suddenly, her legs moving before her mind caught up. She couldn’t stand there, couldn’t watch anymore. She clutched her bag to her chest as if it could hold her breaking heart together and ran.

Down the corridor. Past the classrooms. Past the people who stared at her, confused by her sudden flight. She didn’t care. She just needed to escape.

By the time she reached the gates of the school, her chest was burning, and her vision was still fogged with tears. The cool wind outside brushed her face, but it couldn’t soothe the storm inside her.

Her steps faltered, and she stumbled to a stop. The world spun. She pressed a trembling hand against the iron gate, leaning her forehead against the cold metal.

“I wish…” Her voice cracked, trembling as she spoke to no one but herself. “…I wish I had never met you a year ago.”

The words felt bitter on her tongue, heavy with regret.

“If I hadn’t…” Her shoulders shook. “…then I wouldn’t be standing here with this heartache.”

Her tears slipped freely now, tracing hot paths down her cheeks. She hated this feeling—this powerless, aching love that demanded nothing and received nothing. She hated how her heart still beat faster every time she heard his voice, how her gaze still searched for him in a crowd, how she still held on to tiny moments that meant nothing to him but everything to her.

She hated that, even while she was running away, even while she was falling apart, she couldn’t stop loving him.

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