The first few days after the injury were strange in a way I couldn't quite put into words.
I couldn't practice. Had to sit on the bench calling out corrections while everyone else got to play. My ankle was wrapped tight, throbbing whenever I moved wrong, and the nurse had been very clear: stay off it for at least a week, or risk making it worse.
But the strangest part wasn't the forced rest. It was the attention.
Zara was there constantly. She'd show up between every single class to walk me to the next one, insisting on carrying my bag even when I protested. She'd bring snacks from the cafeteria—juice boxes, chips, chocolate bars I liked. "You're not allowed to move unnecessarily," she'd declare, shoving food at me. "I'm your designated servant until that ankle is fully functional again."
"Z, you really don't have to do all this—"
"Shut up and drink your juice. Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"I'm your doctor. Now drink."
That was Zara. Bossy, protective, and caring in equal measure. She'd spend entire lunch periods sitting with me, even when I'd tell her to go hang out with other people.
"I want to be here," she'd say simply. "Stop trying to get rid of me."
The whole team pitched in too. Aarush would always save me a seat on the bench during practice. Aisha brought extra ice packs wrapped in towels. Abeer kept up a steady stream of terrible jokes specifically designed to make me groan and laugh.
"What do you call a badminton player who just broke up with their girlfriend?" he asked one day.
"I don't know, Abeer."
"Single and ready to mingle... with shuttlecocks!"
"That was awful."
"Made you smile though."
He wasn't wrong.
And Vihaan... Vihaan tried to help too. At least at first.
The day after the injury, he showed up at the bench with a water bottle and a granola bar in hand, looking almost shy in a way that didn't quite fit his usual confident demeanor.
"Thought you might be hungry," he said, offering them to me. "You've been sitting here for like an hour without eating anything."
Something warm spread through my chest. He'd been paying attention.
"Thanks, I—"
"Anaya!" Vedant's voice called out from across the gym. He was jogging toward us, carrying what looked like an entire convenience store's worth of snacks in a plastic bag. "I brought provisions! I know you can't walk to the cafeteria easily, so I got—" He stopped when he saw Vihaan standing there. "Oh. Hey, Vihaan."
"Vedant." Vihaan's voice was carefully neutral.
"I got chips, chocolate, those weird juice boxes you mentioned liking once, and—" Vedant was already pulling items out of the bag, piling them onto the bench beside me. "Wait, do you have water? I should have brought water—"
"I brought water," Vihaan said quietly, still holding the bottle.
"Oh! Perfect. Great teamwork." Vedant grinned, completely oblivious to the tension radiating off Vihaan. "Anaya's well taken care of then."
"Yeah," Vihaan said. His jaw was tight. "She is."
I took the water bottle from Vihaan. "Thank you. Really. This is perfect."
He nodded, said nothing else, and walked back toward the others.
And that's when I started to notice the pattern. Started to see how every time Vihaan tried to help, Vedant would appear—ten seconds faster, twenty seconds more prepared, always just slightly ahead.
And every time it happened, Vihaan pulled back a little more.
---
The breaking point came during lunch period in the library.
Zara and I were studying—or pretending to study while actually just talking about nothing important—when Vedant showed up with his signature grin and a worn deck of cards.
"Thought you both might be bored," he said, already pulling out a chair. "Want to play?"
We ended up playing for the entire lunch period. The three of us crowded around the small library table, cards spread out between textbooks and notebooks we'd completely abandoned.
"That's not how this works!" Zara protested when Vedant suddenly declared that all red cards were now worth double points.
"It is now," Vedant said with completely unearned confidence. "New rule. I just invented it."
"You can't just invent rules!"
"I can and I did. Democracy has spoken."
"There are three of us! That's not democracy, that's a dictatorship!"
"A *benevolent* dictatorship. Very different."
I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt, nearly knocking over my carefully organized hand of cards.
"Anaya, tell him he can't just—" Zara was laughing too now, even as she protested.
"I mean, he kind of already did," I managed between laughs.
"Thank you! See, Anaya gets it."
"Anaya is enabling your chaos!"
"It's a gift."
At some point during the debate about whether kings could beat aces if you were holding them upside down (Vedant's logic made no sense but he defended it passionately), my hair fell forward into my face, completely blocking my view of my cards.
I was about to push it back when Vedant reached across the table and gently tucked it behind my ear, his fingers barely grazing my cheek.
"There," he said simply, already turning his attention back to his cards. "Couldn't see properly."
It was such a casual gesture. Thoughtless, almost. The kind of thing you'd do for any friend without thinking twice about it.
But when I glanced toward the library entrance—some instinct making me look up—I saw Vihaan standing there.
He'd clearly just arrived. His backpack was still on both shoulders. In his hands was a water bottle—the expensive kind from the vending machine that I'd mentioned liking once in passing conversation.
He was staring at us. At Vedant's hand, still hovering near my face. At the three of us crowded together, laughing, comfortable.
His jaw was locked tight. His eyes had gone cold in a way I'd never seen before.
Our eyes met across the library.
For just a second, I saw something flash across his face. Hurt, maybe. Or betrayal. Something raw and quickly buried.
Then his expression went completely blank.
He turned around and walked away without saying a single word.
The water bottle was still in his hand.
---
After that day, everything changed.
Vihaan didn't ignore me completely—that would have been too obvious. But he became distant. Cold. Profoundly professional in a way that felt deliberate.
During practices, he'd talk to everyone else. Joke with Aarush about his terrible serves. Compliment Aisha on her improved footwork. Give Abeer detailed advice on his defensive positioning.
But with me? Nothing.
Just clipped, impersonal instructions when absolutely necessary.
"Your stance is off. Adjust your back foot."
"Noted."
"Net play is sloppy. You're reaching too far."
"I'll work on it."
"Do."
No banter. No whispered observations. No lingering looks. It was like playing badminton with a stranger.
His text messages became equally sparse and cold.
Vihaan: Practice is at 4 tomorrow. Don't be late.
Me: I can't practice yet. Ankle still healing.
Vihaan: Right
That was the entire exchange. No "how's it feeling?" No "let me know when you're cleared." Just... right. Acknowledged and dismissed.
I told myself I didn't care. That if he wanted to be weird and moody about Vedant hanging around, that was his problem to deal with, not mine.
But it bothered me. More than I wanted to admit.
"He's barely speaking to me," I mentioned to Zara one afternoon. We were sitting in the bleachers watching practice, my ankle propped up on her lap with an ice pack.
She followed my gaze to where Vihaan was demonstrating proper form to the others, his movements sharp and controlled and almost aggressive.
"He's jealous," she said matter-of-factly.
"Jealous of what?"
"Vedant, obviously." She adjusted the ice pack on my ankle. "Have you seen how much time you two spend together? Vedant's here constantly. Always bringing you things, making you laugh—"
"He's just being a good friend—"
"I know that. You know that. But does Vihaan know that?" She gave me a pointed look.
During one practice session a few days later, I overheard Vihaan talking to Aarush near the equipment bench. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop—my water bottle was on that bench, and I'd been about to grab it—but I froze when I heard my name.
"How's Anaya's ankle doing?" Vihaan asked, his voice carefully casual. "Still pretty bad?"
He wasn't asking me. He was asking about me like I wasn't sitting twenty feet away.
"Why don't you just ask her yourself?" Aarush suggested, sounding genuinely confused. "She's right over there."
"I just need to know if she'll be ready for the tournament," Vihaan said, his tone flat. "She's my partner. We need to practice together before the finals."
My chest tightened.
Partner. Just a teammate. Just someone he needed to be functional enough to win with.
Nothing more than that.
---
One afternoon during free period, I was sitting outside under the large tree near the south entrance with Zara when someone dropped down onto the grass beside us with way too much enthusiasm.
Ayaan. A guy from the year below me who'd somehow become practically my little brother over the past year.
"Anaya! Zara!" He grinned at us. "How's the ankle treating you?"
"Better," I said. "Should be fully cleared for practice by next week."
"That's great! Really great." He had this weird expression on his face, like he was working up to something.
Zara noticed too. She gave me a look and made a show of stretching and standing up. "You know what, I just remembered I need to grab something from my locker. Be right back."
Once she was gone, Ayaan shifted awkwardly.
"So, uh, random question. What do you look for in people? Like, what qualities?"
Oh no.
"Ayaan. What's this really about?"
He crumbled immediately. "Okay, fine. Vedant's friends asked me to talk to you. He talks about you a lot. Uses this code name—'Sunshine.'"
Sunshine. That was actually sweet.
And inconvenient.
I thought about how easy it would be. How safe. How uncomplicated.
How I'd never lose sleep wondering what Vedant was thinking. Never feel my stomach twist when he texted. Never worry about red flags or warnings or patterns.
"Tell them I'm not interested. Vedant's great, but he's just a friend."
"Not even a little?"
"Not even a little," I said.
Because easy wasn't what I wanted.
After he left, Zara reappeared with absolutely perfect timing.
"So?" She sat down next to me. "What was that about?"
"Vedant likes me. Apparently uses a code name for me when talking to his friends. 'Sunshine.'"
"Oh, I already knew that," Zara said breezily. "It's incredibly obvious."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you're adorably oblivious about these things." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "But seriously, how do you feel about it?"
"I feel bad. He's such a genuinely good person. But there's just... nothing there for me. No spark."
"I know exactly what you mean." She studied my face carefully. "But there is that spark with someone else, isn't there?"
I didn't answer. Didn't trust my voice not to give away too much.
She knew anyway. Of course she knew. Zara always knew.
---
By the following week, my ankle was finally, officially cleared for light practice.
I started with basic drills. Nothing intense. Just footwork exercises, light volleys, getting my body used to the movements again.
The team was incredibly supportive. They cheered when I made good shots, even the easy ones. They offered encouragement when I missed, when my timing was off.
During my recovery period, Vihaan had essentially taken over leading the practices. And he was good at it—better than I'd ever been at the organizational aspects.
He'd demonstrate techniques with perfect form. He'd correct people's positioning with specific, actionable advice. He'd push everyone to improve without being cruel about it.
When he got to me during drills, his tone didn't change at all. Didn't soften or warm.
"Your footwork is still sloppy. You're favoring the injured ankle too much. You need to distribute your weight more evenly or you're just going to hurt yourself again."
"I'm trying—"
"Try harder. We have finals in less than a week and I need you functional."
Then he moved on to the next person without waiting for a response.
Zara caught the expression on my face and squeezed my hand supportively. "Ignore him. He's being an ass."
"He's not wrong, though. My footwork is off."
"Doesn't mean he has to be a jerk about it."
---
Tournament day arrived with perfect weather and overwhelming energy.
The gym was packed—courts set up, bleachers full, the noise level incredible. Excited chatter, nervous laughter, the constant sound of shuttlecocks being hit during warm-ups.
When Vedant's team played their semifinal match, Zara and I cheered obnoxiously loud from the stands.
"Come on, Vedant! You've got this!" Zara yelled.
"That serve was perfect!" I added.
Vedant looked up at us between points, his face breaking into a huge grin. He gave us an enthusiastic double thumbs up.
They won their match relatively easily. After their match ended, he jogged over to where we were sitting.
"Thanks for the moral support up there," he said, still catching his breath.
"You were genuinely amazing," I told him honestly.
"Thanks. That means a lot. Good luck in your match—you guys are going to absolutely destroy the competition."
Our semifinal match was scheduled next.
Vihaan and I stood at the edge of our designated court, rackets in hand, not looking at each other but somehow still intensely aware of each other's presence.
"Play smart," he said quietly, finally breaking the silence between us. Still not looking at me, but at least speaking directly to me for the first time in days. "Trust your training. Trust your instincts. We've got this."
It was the most he'd said directly to me in over a week.
"Right," I said, trying to match his professional tone. "Let's win this."
The match started.
Our opponents were genuinely, seriously good. They knew our strategies, had studied our playing styles, understood our usual patterns.
But Vihaan and I... despite everything that had happened between us off the court, on the court we just worked.
We moved together like we'd been partners for years. I'd shift forward to take the net, and he'd automatically cover the back. He'd set up a shot, and I'd be exactly where I needed to be to finish it.
The second game was significantly harder. The score stayed painfully close.
19-19.
We were tied. Championship point.
My heart was pounding so violently I thought everyone could hear it. My ankle was starting to ache but I pushed through.
The rally that followed was absolutely brutal.
Back and forth. Neither team willing to give even a centimeter. Every muscle in my body was screaming. My lungs were burning. But I kept moving, kept fighting.
Their front player sent a vicious smash toward the back. Vihaan was there—perfectly positioned. He sent it back over the net.
They managed to return it, but barely. Sent it toward the front court.
My turn.
I dove for it. Racket stretched out as far as my arm would physically reach.
My racket connected with the shuttlecock with the barest, lightest touch.
It floated over the net, dropped on their side, hit the ground just barely inside the boundary line.
Point. Game. Match.
The whistle blew.
We won.
The gym absolutely erupted into chaos.
I stood there for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened.
We actually won. We were going to finals.
Before my brain could fully catch up to reality, someone grabbed me from behind and lifted me completely off my feet.
Vedant. He'd apparently jumped down from wherever he'd been watching and was now spinning me around in circles, laughing with pure joy.
"You did it! That final point was absolutely insane!"
I was laughing breathlessly, maybe crying a little. "We won. Oh my god, we actually won."
When Vedant finally set me back down, he immediately turned and grabbed Vihaan next, lifting him up too.
For just the briefest moment—maybe a second, maybe less—Vihaan actually laughed. A real, genuine laugh.
But the instant Vedant set him back down, Vihaan's expression shuttered closed again. The warmth drained from his eyes. He took a deliberate step backward.
Then Zara tackled me with a hug. "That was absolutely insane!"
The whole team surrounded us. Everyone talking at once, celebrating together.
I looked around through the crowd for Vihaan.
He was standing off to the side, slightly apart from the celebration. Watching.
Our eyes met for just a second.
Then he turned and walked toward the locker rooms without a word to anyone.
---
I found him outside the locker rooms, leaning against the wall with his head tilted back, eyes closed.
"Vihaan."
He didn't open his eyes. "You should be celebrating with everyone else."
"You should be too. We won. Together."
"Yeah. We did." His voice was flat. "Great teamwork out there. Very professional."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at me. Really looked at me. And I saw it all there—hurt, anger, jealousy, frustration.
"Nothing. Forget it." He pushed off the wall, reaching for his racket. "I'm going home."
"No. You're not just leaving. Not like this." I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "What's going on with you? Why are you being like this?"
"Like what?"
"Cold. Distant. What am I supposed to be to you? Because I honestly can't tell anymore."
"You want me to talk to you?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Fine. Let's talk. Let's talk about how every time I try to help you, Vedant appears out of nowhere. Let's talk about how you spend every lunch period with him. Let's talk about how he touches your hair and carries your bag and brings you notes and snacks and apparently lifts you up and spins you around while I'm standing right there—"
"He was celebrating! We all were!"
"He lifted me for one second then immediately went back to you." Vihaan's jaw was so tight I thought it might crack. "And you know what the worst part is? You have no idea. You're completely oblivious to how he looks at you."
"So what if he likes me? I can't control that!"
"I know you didn't." His voice dropped lower, quieter, somehow more intense. "But do you like him back?"
The question hung between us in the empty hallway.
"No," I said honestly. "I don't. He's a friend. That's all he is to me. That's all he'll ever be."
Something shifted in Vihaan's expression. The anger didn't disappear completely, but it softened.
"Then why do you let him—" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Never mind. It's not my business. You can be friends with whoever you want."
"But it bothers you."
"Yeah. It bothers me." He met my eyes again. "Is that what you wanted to hear? That watching you with him makes me want to punch something?"
"Why does it bother you?" My voice came out quieter than I intended. "Why do you care so much?"
He stared at me for a long moment. I could see him fighting with himself, deciding something.
Then he took a step closer. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
"You really don't know?" His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. "You seriously have no idea?"
My breath caught. "Vihaan—"
"THERE YOU GUYS ARE!"
We both jumped apart like we'd been electrocuted.
Abeer was jogging down the hallway toward us, completely oblivious to what he'd just interrupted. "Everyone's looking for you! The principal wants to take a photo with all the finalists. Come on, hurry up!"
Vihaan stepped back, putting distance between us. The moment—whatever it had been—was gone. Shattered.
"Yeah. We're coming." His voice was back to that carefully controlled tone. Professional. Distant.
He grabbed his racket and walked past me without another word, following Abeer back toward the gym.
I stood there alone in the hallway, my heart still racing, my mind spinning, trying to process what had just almost happened.
What had he been about to say?
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur of photos and congratulations and planning for finals.
Vihaan was polite. Professional. Smiled for the cameras. Discussed strategy with the team. Acted like everything was completely normal.
But he didn't look at me. Not once. Not really.
By the time I got home that evening, my head was pounding.
My phone buzzed. A text from Vedant.
Vedant: Congratulations again! That final point was legendary. You're going to kill it in finals. 💪
I stared at the message. Sweet. Supportive. Everything you'd want from a good friend.
But it didn't make my heart race.
Another text. This time from Vihaan.
Vihaan: Practice tomorrow at 4. We need to work on endurance drills before finals. Don't be late.
Short. Professional. Impersonal.
But my heart was pounding just from seeing his name on my screen.
---
Two days later, the entire tournament group was buzzing with excitement about the celebration trip.
The teachers had organized an overnight beach trip as a reward for all the participants—not just the finalists, but everyone who'd competed. A chance to relax before finals consumed everyone's attention.
"Beach trip! Overnight!" Zara was practically singing as we packed our bags Friday evening. "I brought three different swimsuits because I couldn't decide which one looked better."
"It's just swimming, Z."
"Presentation matters!"
---
Saturday morning arrived bright and sunny.
We loaded onto buses—two large coaches. The moment we were on the road, the energy became chaotic. Music blasting, people singing, selfies everywhere.
I ended up sitting with Zara and Mina. Vedant was a few rows behind us. Vihaan had claimed a seat near the front, headphones firmly in place.
Halfway through the drive, Ayaan appeared in the aisle. "Anaya, hey! Want to switch seats with me?"
Ayaan, I'm already settled—"
"Please? Just for like, half the trip? I'll switch back later, I promise!"
I sighed, recognizing that look. He wasn't going to give up. "Fine. Where's your seat?"
His seat was next to Vedant.
I gathered my things and made my way back to where Vedant was sitting.
We talked easily for the rest of the drive. Conversation flowing naturally. He made me laugh. Multiple times.
I didn't notice Vihaan glancing back periodically through the gap between seats, his expression darkening each time he saw us laughing together.
---
The beach house was absolutely massive—sprawling building with huge windows facing the ocean, multiple bedrooms, a deck leading down to the sand.
Teachers quickly established ground rules. "No going in the water without a buddy system. Lights out is at 11 PM. And absolutely no boys in the girls' wing or vice versa. Understood?"
We divided into rooms and dumped our bags before immediately heading straight for the beach.
The water was absolutely perfect. Warm, clear, gentle waves. Most people ran straight in.
I stayed at the edge, letting the water lap at my feet.
"Not going in?" Vedant appeared beside me.
"I can't swim," I admitted.
"Really? Want me to teach you sometime?"
"Maybe later. I'm good just standing here for now."
Then Zara called out from where she was waist-deep in the water, "Anaya! Come on! At least wade in a little bit!"
"I'm perfectly fine here!"
"Don't be boring!"
Against my better judgment—and ignoring every self-preservation instinct I possessed—I waded in slowly. Just knee-deep at first, then a little deeper.
I was standing there, laughing at something Mina had just said, when a larger wave came seemingly out of nowhere.
It hit me hard. I immediately lost my footing.
And then the water was over my head.
Panic flooded my entire system instantly. I couldn't tell which way was up. My lungs started burning almost immediately. I thrashed desperately, trying to find the surface, find air, find anything solid.
My clothes were heavy, dragging me down. Everything was confusion and terror and the absolute certainty that I was drowning.
Then arms wrapped around me from behind. Strong. Sure. Pulling me up with complete confidence.
We broke the surface and I gasped, coughing, desperately gulping air.
"I got you. I got you." Vihaan's voice in my ear, steady and certain. "You're okay. I've got you."
He held me above the waves with one arm around my waist, already pulling me toward shore with powerful, efficient strokes. He didn't let go until we were completely out of the water and on the sand.
I collapsed immediately, still coughing violently, trying to clear my lungs and catch my breath.
"Are you okay?" His voice was urgent, genuinely worried. Not cold. Not distant. Actually, deeply concerned. His hand was on my back, steadying me. "Why would you go in that deep if you can't swim?"
I nodded weakly, still unable to form words, just trying to breathe normally again.
"That was incredibly stupid, Anaya. You could've drowned." His voice cracked. "When I saw you go under—"
His hands were shaking.
I'd never seen Vihaan's hands shake before.
He didn't finish the sentence. Just kept his hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles, his fingers trembling slightly against my skin.
"Didn't... mean to," I finally managed to gasp out between coughs. "Wave... hit me."
"I know. I saw." He was quiet for a moment. "Don't do that again. Please."
"Wasn't... planning on it."
People were gathering around us now. Zara looked absolutely terrified. Mina was apologizing profusely. Teachers were appearing, asking if they needed to call for medical attention.
"I'm fine," I kept insisting to everyone. "Just swallowed some water. I'm okay, really."
Through the crowd, I saw Vedant running toward us from the direction of the beach house. His face went completely pale when he saw me soaking wet and coughing, Vihaan's arm still protectively around my shoulders.
"What happened?" Vedant's voice was tight with concern. "Are you hurt?"
"She went under," Zara explained, her own voice still shaky. "Vihaan pulled her out."
Vedant's expression shifted into something pained—guilt and regret mixing with worry. "I should have been here. I'm so sorry, I was just inside for a minute—"
"It's fine, Vedant. Really." I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. It was my own fault."
But Vedant still looked stricken.
The teachers finally cleared everyone away. Vihaan helped me stand, his hand on my elbow steadying me.
"Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get you back to the house. You need to change."
He walked with me back toward the beach house, not letting go of my elbow even when I was steady on my feet.
At the entrance to the girls' wing, he finally stopped. Reluctantly let go.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked one more time.
"Yeah. Thanks to you." I met his eyes. "You saved my life."
"Of course I did." He said it simply, like there had never been any other option. "I told you. I'll always come for you, Anaya. Even when I'm being an idiot. Even when we're not talking. Always."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there dripping and confused and feeling things I definitely shouldn't be feeling.
---
That evening, after everyone had showered and changed, the teachers organized a bonfire on the beach.
We all sat in a large circle around the flames as the sun set over the ocean. Someone had brought a guitar and was playing soft music. People were talking, laughing, roasting marshmallows.
Vihaan sat directly across the fire from me. The flames cast moving shadows across his face. But when our eyes met over the fire, he didn't look away this time.
He held my gaze for a long moment, something unspoken passing between us.
After a while, he stood up and walked around the circle to where I was sitting.
"Can we talk?" he asked quietly. "Alone?"
I nodded, my heart suddenly beating faster.
We walked down the beach together, away from the bonfire and the noise of the group. The sound of waves filled the silence between us. The moon was bright enough to see by, reflecting off the water.
Finally, he stopped walking and turned to face me.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out firm and clear. "For being a complete jerk this past week. You didn't deserve that."
"You were kind of a jerk," I agreed, not letting him off easy.
"I know. I really, truly know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I kept trying to do things for you. Bring you things. But he was always there first. Even that stupid water bottle—" He stopped, looked at the water. "Never mind."
My chest tightened. He'd remembered. He'd been carrying it.
"Seeing you with Vedant all the time. The way he looks at you. The way you laugh with him. It got in my head and I handled it in literally the worst possible way."
"We're just friends. I told you that."
"I know that now. Ayaan told me what you said—that you're not interested in Vedant romantically." He looked at me, his expression vulnerable. "Is that actually true?"
"Yes. Completely true."
"Why not? He's obviously a good guy. He clearly cares about you."
"Because I don't feel that way about him," I said simply. "He's a great friend, but there's no spark there."
"And with me?" His voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the hope underneath. "Is there a spark?"
My breath caught in my throat. The question hung between us, heavy and important.
"Vihaan—"
"You don't have to answer right now if you're not ready," he interrupted quickly. "I just... I need you to know something first." He stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "I like you, Anaya. I know I should have been more obvious about it, but I thought my actions were speaking loudly enough. Apparently they weren't. So I'm saying it now, out loud, clearly: I like you. A lot. More than I've liked anyone in a very long time."
The moonlight made his eyes look almost silver. The ocean crashed behind us. My heart was doing something chaotic and unsteady in my chest.
"I want to take you to that café I mentioned," he continued. "I want to spend time with you that isn't about badminton or school or tournaments. I want to actually get to know you beyond the court. And I want you to get to know me too—the real me, not the version I show everyone else." He paused, vulnerability clear on his face. "I want a real chance here. That's all I'm asking for."
I wanted to say yes. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to just say yes, to let myself fall, to take the risk.
But Zara's voice echoed in my head. Her warnings about what she'd heard. About his past. About patterns.
"I need time," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "To think about this. About everything."
He nodded slowly, and though I could see the disappointment flash across his face, he didn't push. "Okay. That's fair. Take all the time you need."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For saving me today. From drowning."
"Of course." His expression softened. "I meant what I said earlier. I'll always come for you, Anaya. You need to know that. Even when I'm being an idiot and giving you the cold shoulder, I'll still always show up when you need me. That's not going to change."
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tight.
We walked back to the bonfire in silence, but it was a different kind of silence than before. Less heavy. More thoughtful. Filled with possibility and uncertainty in equal measure.
When we reached the group, he gestured for me to sit down first. And then, instead of going back to his spot across the fire, he sat down right next to me.
Not touching. Just... there. Close.
When his hand brushed against mine in the sand, he didn't pull away.
And neither did I.
And for a moment—just a moment—I let myself believe this could work.
That the cold shoulder had been a misunderstanding. That the jealousy was just insecurity. That the intensity was just passion.
For a moment, I let myself forget Zara's concerns.
That moment didn't last long.
---
Later that night, after lights out was called and everyone had reluctantly headed to their respective wings of the beach house, Zara climbed into my bed.
"Okay," she whispered in the darkness. "Spill everything. What did you two talk about on the beach?"
I told her. Everything. His apology. His confession. His request for a chance.
"And what did you say?" Zara asked when I finished.
"I said I need time to think."
"Good." She was quiet for a moment. "You know what I saw today? When he pulled you out of the water?"
"What?"
"Terror. Pure, genuine terror on his face. Like he thought he might lose you." Her voice was soft but serious. "That wasn't fake, Anaya. Whatever else is true about him, that fear was completely real."
"I know," I whispered back.
"But." Her tone shifted, becoming more cautious. "That doesn't cancel out everything else. Caring about someone doesn't mean you're good for them. Sometimes the people who hurt us the most are the ones who claim to care the deepest."
"What do you mean?"
She took a breath. "Remember how I mentioned my cousin goes to Riverside Academy? Vihaan's old school?"
My stomach tightened. "Yeah."
"I asked her more about him. Specifically." Zara shifted to face me in the dark. "She knows three girls who dated him. Three separate girls, Anaya. And they all tell the same story."
I didn't want to hear this. But I needed to.
"At first, he was amazing with all of them. Charming, attentive, made them feel like they were the only person in the world who mattered. Exactly like how he's been with you—the intense focus, making them feel special and seen."
My chest felt tight.
"But then things would shift. Gradually at first, then faster. He'd get possessive. Wouldn't want them hanging out with other guys—even just friends. He'd check their phones without asking. Demand to know where they were constantly. Get angry if they didn't respond to his messages immediately." She paused. "One girl said he showed up at her house uninvited at midnight because she didn't answer his call for two hours. She'd just been sleeping. Another said he'd get furious if she even talked to male classmates during group projects."
"Maybe she's exaggerating—"
"Three girls, Anaya. Three completely separate people who don't even know each other well, all telling the exact same story with the exact same details. That's not exaggeration. That's not coincidence. That's a pattern."
I stared at the ceiling, processing this. Remembering how he'd gotten cold when Vedant was around. How he'd been tracking every interaction, building resentment.
Warning signs. Red flags I'd been choosing not to see.
"What should I do?" I asked quietly.
"I can't tell you what to do. This is your choice, and I'll support you no matter what." Zara squeezed my hand in the darkness. "But please, please be careful. Don't ignore the warning signs just because you like him. Don't make excuses for behavior that scares you. And don't ever think you can change him or that you'll be the exception to the pattern. That's what all three of those girls thought too."
"But what if he has changed? What if that was who he used to be, but he's different now?"
"Then he'll prove it through his actions over time, not through pretty words and romantic gestures during the chase." Her voice was firm but loving. "Real change is sustained and consistent. It's not just being perfect while he's trying to win you over. It's how he acts six months from now when you're comfortable and he's not worried about losing you anymore. That's when you see who someone really is."
I didn't sleep much that night. Just lay there thinking about everything.
About how Vihaan made me feel—seen, wanted, special in a way I'd never experienced before.
About how he'd saved me today without hesitation, his face full of genuine terror at the thought of losing me.
But also about the coldness when he was jealous. The possessive undertones in his words. The way he'd shut me out completely for a week over something as simple as Vedant being a good friend.
The pattern Zara had described that sounded disturbingly familiar to warning signs I'd already witnessed in small doses.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Vihaan: You awake?
I stared at the message for a long moment before responding.
Me: Yeah. Can't sleep.
Vihaan: Me neither. Keep thinking about today.
Me: The tournament or the beach?
Vihaan: The beach. Seeing you go under. That was the scariest moment of my life.
Me: I'm okay now. Thanks to you.
Vihaan: I meant what I said earlier. All of it. This isn't a game for me.
Me: I know.
Vihaan: Still thinking? About what we talked about?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I could feel Zara's presence next to me in the dark, even though she'd fallen asleep.
Me: Yeah. Still thinking.
Vihaan: Take all the time you need. But I need you to know—I'm serious about this. About you. I'm not going anywhere.
That last line twisted in my stomach.
A promise.
Or a warning.
Me: Good night, Vihaan.
Vihaan: Night. Sleep well.
I put my phone down and stared at the ceiling some more.
Because that was the problem, wasn't it?
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that this time would be different, that he would be different.
But wanting something doesn't make it true.
And ignoring red flags because you like someone doesn't make them disappear.
It just means you'll be less prepared when they become impossible to ignore.
---
The next morning arrived too early, sunlight streaming through the windows of our room with aggressive brightness.
I'd maybe slept two hours total. Zara looked equally exhausted, her hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes.
"Morning," she mumbled, stretching. "Ready to face the awkwardness?"
"What awkwardness?"
She gave me a look. "You and Vihaan had a whole romantic beach confession last night. You're telling me it's not going to be weird seeing him at breakfast?"
She had a point.
We got dressed and headed down to the common area where the teachers had set up a breakfast buffet. The room was already packed with tournament participants, everyone grabbing food and claiming spots at the various tables scattered around.
I spotted Vihaan immediately. He was near the coffee station, talking to Aarush about something, looking frustratingly well-rested and put-together despite everything.
Our eyes met across the room.
For a second, neither of us moved. Just stood there, the entire previous night hanging heavy between us.
Then he smiled. Small, tentative, but genuine.
I managed a small smile back before quickly looking away, my face heating up.
"Oh, this is going to be painful to watch," Zara muttered beside me. "Come on, let's get food before I die of secondhand awkwardness."
We loaded up our plates and found seats at a table with Mina, Aisha, and a few other girls from our section. Safe. Neutral territory.
But of course, that didn't last long.
"Mind if we join you?" Vedant appeared with his tray, Ayaan right behind him.
"Sure!" Mina said cheerfully, gesturing to the empty chairs.
Vedant sat down directly across from me, immediately launching into an animated retelling of something funny that had happened in their room last night. He was his usual cheerful, oblivious self. Making jokes, telling stories, including everyone in the conversation.
I tried to focus on my food, tried to participate in the conversation, tried to act normal.
But I could feel eyes on me.
I glanced up. Vihaan was still near the coffee station, but he wasn't talking to Aarush anymore. He was watching our table. Watching Vedant laugh. Watching me sit directly across from him.
His expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. The way he was gripping his coffee cup just a little too tight.
Then Abeer called out to him, "Vihaan! You coming to sit or what?"
Vihaan blinked, breaking whatever trance he'd been in. "Yeah. Coming."
He grabbed his tray and headed toward a different table entirely. Sat with his back to us.
Zara caught my eye across the table, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. "See? Awkward."
I mouthed back, "Shut up."
She grinned and went back to her breakfast.
Vedant didn't notice any of it. He was too busy trying to convince Ayaan that pineapple absolutely belonged on pizza, a debate that was getting increasingly heated and ridiculous.
"It's a fruit! Fruit doesn't go on pizza!" Ayaan was saying, looking genuinely offended.
"Tomato is a fruit and it's literally the base of pizza!" Vedant countered.
"That's different!"
"How is that different?!"
Despite everything, I found myself laughing at their absurdity. It was impossible not to.
When I glanced back toward Vihaan's table, he was gone. His spot was empty, his tray already cleared.
His coffee cup still sat on the table. Half-full. Still steaming.
He'd left mid-drink just to get away from watching me with Vedant.
---
We loaded back onto the buses around mid-morning, heading back to school. The energy was more subdued than yesterday—everyone tired from staying up late, sun-drunk and lazy.
I ended up in my original seat with Zara and Mina again. Ayaan didn't try to orchestrate any seat switches this time.
Vihaan sat in the same spot as yesterday, near the front, headphones in.
But this time, when I caught him glancing back through the gap between seats, he didn't look away immediately. Just held my gaze for a long moment before finally turning back toward the window.
"Finals are tomorrow," Zara said quietly, linking her arm through mine. "You guys ready?"
"Ready as we'll ever be," I said, though I wasn't thinking about badminton at all.
Tomorrow was finals. The culmination of everything we'd been working toward.
Tomorrow, Vihaan and I would have to be partners again. Would have to work together, trust each other, move in sync despite everything that was now hanging between us.
Tomorrow, I'd have to pretend my heart wasn't doing complicated, confusing things every time he was near.
Tomorrow.
But for now, I closed my eyes and tried to rest, the motion of the bus lulling me into something close to sleep.
And when I dreamed, it was of drowning and being pulled back to shore by hands that felt both safe and dangerous at the same time.
In the dream, I couldn't tell if he was saving me.
Or making sure I couldn't swim away.
---
END OF CHAPTER 3
Finals are tomorrow—and so is a choice that might change everything.
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