Episode3

The first few days of college slipped by in a blur of classes, new routines, and endless introductions. For Aarohi, each day felt like a delicate balancing act—stay invisible, stay safe, don’t cross paths with Vivaan.

She managed well, or so she thought. She stuck to her three friends, spoke only when necessary, and avoided the clusters of students that always seemed to form around him. If he was a sun that drew people in with his warmth, then she was content to be a shadow, keeping her distance.

But fate had other plans.

It began on a Tuesday morning, when their professor announced, “For your first internal assessment, you’ll be divided into groups of four. Each group must prepare a presentation on assigned topics. The project will account for thirty percent of your grade.”

Groans and chatter filled the room instantly.

“Thirty percent?” Anika whispered dramatically to Aarohi. “This is our funeral.”

The professor ignored the complaints and began reading out names, pairing students together. Aarohi waited, hoping she and her friends would land in the same group. It would make everything easier—safer.

But when the list reached her, her heart dropped.

“Group Five: Aarohi Sharma, Vivaan Malhotra, Raghav Mehta, Sneha Patel.”

Her blood ran cold.

Her friends glanced at her, sympathy written on their faces. Pooja mouthed good luck before turning back to her own group.

Aarohi swallowed hard. She could feel Vivaan’s presence across the room, though she didn’t dare look up. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk, nails digging into the wood. Of all people… why him?

The professor dismissed the class, telling them to gather with their groups. Reluctantly, Aarohi stood, making her way to the far corner where Raghav and Sneha were already waiting. Vivaan joined them last, sliding into the chair with casual ease, his notebook in hand. He offered a quick nod but said nothing.

Raghav leaned forward, his tone low and skeptical. “Let’s be realistic. We should count this as a group of three.”

Aarohi blinked. “What do you mean?”

Sneha sighed, flipping her pen between her fingers. “He means Vivaan won’t help us. Haven’t you heard?”

Her eyes flicked toward Vivaan before lowering again. “He never participates in group work. He just does the minimum. If he actually worked, the project would be amazing—his grades are always top—but he doesn’t. He doesn’t care.”

Aarohi stiffened. She risked a glance at Vivaan. He sat quietly, expression unreadable, as if their words didn’t touch him at all. He tapped his pen absently against his notebook, gaze fixed on some invisible point.

Raghav muttered, “If we’re stuck with him, we need someone to convince him. Otherwise, we’re doomed.”

Sneha’s gaze shifted to Aarohi. “You should do it.”

Aarohi’s eyes widened. “Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re quiet, you don’t fight with anyone, and…” Sneha hesitated. “You’re probably the only one he won’t ignore.”

Aarohi’s stomach twisted. She wanted to protest, wanted to insist there was no way she could convince Vivaan of anything. Talking to him at all was enough to make her pulse stutter. And yet, both Raghav and Sneha looked at her as if she were their only hope.

“How… how can I do that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Raghav leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Look, it’s simple. Just talk to him. If he agrees, this project will be the best in class. If not… we’re finished.”

Before she could reply, Sneha lowered her voice further, her eyes flicking toward Vivaan again. “Do you even know why he’s like this?”

Aarohi shook her head, curious despite herself.

Sneha’s tone softened. “Back before he came here, he was in a relationship. From what I heard, he loved her a lot. But she cheated on him. It broke him. After that, he became different—less open with girls, more guarded. He still talks, but not like before.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with a sadness Aarohi hadn’t expected. She stared at her hands, tracing invisible patterns on the table.

So Vivaan wasn’t just the carefree extrovert she had imagined. Behind his smile, behind his easy laughter, there was a story—a wound. A betrayal.

Her chest ached at the thought. She had no right to feel anything about his past, and yet… she did.

Raghav cleared his throat, bringing her back. “So? Will you do it? You’re the only one who can.”

Aarohi’s lips parted, but no words came out. She wanted to say no, to retreat into her safe corner of invisibility. But the weight of her group’s expectations pressed against her. This wasn’t just about her anymore.

Finally, she nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll… try.”

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The rest of the day blurred past her. She barely registered the lectures, her mind too busy circling around the task now hanging over her head. Convince Vivaan. The thought alone made her palms sweat.

By the time classes ended, her friends caught up with her.

“How’s your group?” Ritika asked casually.

Aarohi forced a thin smile. “It’s… fine.”

Anika frowned. “Wait—you’re with him, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Yes.”

Pooja whistled softly. “Wow. That’s… interesting.”

Aarohi quickly shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a project.”

But inside, it didn’t feel like just a project. It felt like a storm waiting to break.

That evening, as she sat at her desk staring at her notes, her thoughts kept drifting back to him. To his introduction a week ago, to the way he had smiled so effortlessly, to the story she had just heard about his heartbreak.

She wondered what it must have been like—for someone so full of light to be betrayed like that. Did it explain the quiet moments she sometimes caught in him, the way his gaze seemed distant when he thought no one was watching?

She sighed, dropping her pen.

“How am I supposed to talk to him?” she whispered into the empty room.

Her reflection in the window stared back at her—uncertain, small, and trembling with emotions she wished she didn’t have.

But whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she would have to try.

And maybe—just maybe—this was how fate was forcing their paths to cross.

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