Notice

The party had ended, but Prince hadn’t returned to normal.

Something lingered—subtle, unsettling.

It wasn’t Khushi’s laughter or the chaos of spilled drinks. It was the quiet presence he hadn’t expected to remember.

Mansi.

She hadn’t demanded attention. Hadn’t tried to impress. Yet when Prince closed his eyes, it was her calm smile that returned, steady amid noise.

For the first time, he noticed.

Prince remembered something from weeks ago.

He had called Arushi for notes—nothing more.

Barely five minutes later, his phone rang again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Khushi’s voice was sharp, offended.

Prince blinked. “Call you? It was just about—”

“So you can call her,” she interrupted, “but not me?”

“It wasn’t personal,” he tried to explain.

Khushi scoffed. “Next time, think before you dial.”

The next day, Arushi stopped talking to him.

Instead, Khushi sent Mansi.

“Go help Prince,” she said lightly. “You’re good at explaining things.”

Mansi didn’t question it.

Prince still remembered how she stood there—hands folded, eyes lowered, voice steady.

“This part is wrong,” she said, pointing. “If you change the logic, it’ll work.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Anything else?”

“No.”

She nodded and left.

No smile.

No hesitation.

No interest.

At the time, Prince hadn’t cared.

Now, it echoed.

The day after the party, Prince found himself searching for her—online, through mutuals, through fragments of information he’d never cared about before.

Someone casually mentioned, “Her birthday’s next month.”

Prince smiled.

When he saw her near the staircase, reading, he stopped.

“Mansi.”

She looked up, startled. “Yes?”

“You’re born in September,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“I looked it up.”

She laughed nervously. “I never told you.”

“I know.”

“Did Khushi say something?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, stepping just a little closer. “I wanted to know you.”

Her breath paused—not from romance, but surprise.

“Oh,” she whispered.

For the first time, Prince saw color bloom on her cheeks.

From a distance, Khushi watched.

And noticed.

Khushi noticed how Prince’s eyes followed Mansi now.

How he asked about her.

How he waited when she spoke.

Something twisted inside her.

That evening, she leaned closer to Prince.

“You know,” she said casually, “Mansi’s not as simple as she looks.”

Prince frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She pretends to be innocent,” Khushi sighed, “but she’s actually very clever. She talks behind people’s backs.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” Prince said.

Khushi shrugged. “I didn’t want to say anything. She’s my friend after all.”

The seed was planted.

Lunch the next day was loud.

Khushi and Mansi opened their tiffins.

Same vegetable.

Different worlds.

Khushi’s food glistened with oil, rich and aromatic.

Prince smiled. “This smells incredible.”

“My mom believes food should taste good, not just be healthy,” Khushi said proudly.

Mansi opened hers quietly—plain, light, simple.

Prince tasted Khushi’s first. “Amazing.”

Then he took a bite from Mansi’s.

She watched him closely.

“So?” she asked softly.

“It’s good,” he said.

Her eyes lit up.

“Bring more tomorrow,” he added, smiling.

She nodded, heart warming.

Later, when Prince and Khushi walked alone, she laughed.

“You didn’t actually like her food, did you?”

Prince made a face. “Honestly? I felt sick.”

Khushi laughed louder. “I knew it.”

“She keeps trying to feed me,” he added jokingly.

Khushi smiled—not amused, but satisfied. “She’s desperate for attention.”

Prince didn’t correct her.

The next day, Mansi brought extra food.

“You said you liked it,” she said shyly.

Prince smiled and accepted it.

That night, Khushi whispered, “See? She’s trying to trap you.”

Prince laughed.

Khushi smiled.

Mansi stayed silent.

Khushi’s stories grew sharper.

“She’s jealous of me,” Khushi told Prince one day.

“She pretends to be sweet, but she talks badly about everyone.”

“She wants what I have.”

Prince listened. Slowly. Doubt forming where curiosity once lived.

Yet when he spoke to Mansi, she never once spoke badly of Khushi.

Not once.

“Khushi’s confident,” Mansi said when asked. “She knows what she wants.”

“That’s it?” Prince asked.

She smiled. “That’s enough.”

Khushi watched the gap close.

And decided to destroy it.

Mansi didn’t fight back.

She never defended herself loudly.

Never accused.

Never explained.

She simply remained herself.

And sometimes, that is the most dangerous thing of all.

Because lies grow fast.

But silence—

Silence waits.

If you want, next chapters can explore:

Khushi’s lies reaching a breaking point Prince choosing Khushi over Mansi Mansi falling quietly, deeply The moment friendship turns into betrayal

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