Aviyukt's POV:

A months had passed.

But some moments don't fade with time-they just learn how to stay quiet.

No matter how busy I kept myself-with exams, revision notes, mock tests-my mind always drifted back to that rainy evening. Vedika sitting on the roadside. Crying. Shaking. Refusing to look up.

I still didn't know why she was crying.

And that scared me.

Was she hurt?

Did someone say something to her?

Did someone touch her?

Or did she just fall... and break in a way that didn't show on skin?

The not knowing was worse than any answer.

I wanted to ask her-but I didn't.

Some stories aren't meant to be forced out of people.

Privacy mattered. Her silence mattered.

Exams were near. Reality pulled me back.

"Aviyukt," my mother's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and dramatic as always. "Where is your father? Call him right now. I'm starving. Tonight it was his turn."

I sighed and grabbed my phone.

"Mom, you had lunch at four."

"That was a snack," she argued. "I need real food."

I dialed Dad.

"Dad, where are you? I'm hungry."

"What?" his confused voice came from the other side. "Isn't your mother at home?"

I looked at Mom. She cracked a mischievous smile and nodded exaggeratedly.

"Yes, Dad," I said seriously. "She's hungry too. Please come home. We really want biryani. It's your duty tonight."

There was a pause.

Then laughter.

"You both are exactly the same," Dad said. "Fine. I'm coming. Don't start a food war without me."

I hung up.

Mom clapped her hands like a child. "Good. Now tell me-what are your plans after school life? And are you excited about college life?"

I leaned back on the couch. "Honestly? I'm not excited about leaving school."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'll miss someone," I said quietly.

Her smile softened. She didn't push. She never did.

I hesitated, then added, "Mom... I've been thinking about business. I want to run an automobile company someday. Not just selling cars-innovating them. Sustainability. Design. Indian manufacturing."

Her eyes lit up. "That's my boy."

Before she could say more, Dad walked in, rolled up his sleeves, and headed straight to the kitchen.

"Move," he said dramatically. "The lawyer is cooking today."

Mom scoffed. "Last time you burned the rice."

"That was experimental cuisine."

I laughed as they bickered-Dad cooking, Mom stealing spices, both blaming each other. It was chaos. Warm, loud, loving chaos.

Mom-the doctor who looked more like my sister than my mother.

Dad-the calm lawyer who had fought the world for her.

Their inter-caste marriage had scandalized everyone. She was Christian. He wasn't.

She got pregnant at eighteen.

They were judged, whispered about, doubted.

But here they were-laughing over biryani, stealing bites, arguing over salt.

A happy family.

A safe home.

And for a moment, I wondered-

Did Vedika have this kind of warmth?

The thought tightened something in my chest.

I didn't know her story.

But I knew one thing.

If she ever cried again, I hoped the world would be kinder to her than it had been that day in the rain.

***

Dinner stretched longer than usual-not because of food, but because my father loved talking when he was in a good mood.

"So," he said, leaning back, wiping his hands. "You mentioned business earlier. Tell me properly."

I straightened a little. This wasn't a joke anymore.

"I want to start with automobiles," I said. "Not luxury cars-practical ones. Affordable. Efficient. Indian-made."

Dad nodded. "Good start."

"And then... slowly," I continued, thinking aloud, "I want to build small businesses. Furniture-simple, durable, student-friendly. Food packaging for students-healthy meals, not junk. Women's health companies. General healthcare startups."

Mom smiled proudly. "That's ambitious."

"I don't want one giant company," I said. "I want many small ones. Businesses that solve real problems. Things I actually care about."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "That's rare at your age."

"There's more," I added sheepishly. "I like aviation too. Renting aircrafts. Maybe manufacturing someday. Not immediately-but eventually."

There was silence.

Then Dad laughed. "Okay, stop. Before you buy the moon too."

Mom chuckled. "Let the boy dream."

Dad looked at me thoughtfully. "Alright. Enough business talk. What about your love life?"

I froze.

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Why not?" he asked casually. "At eighteen, your mother and I already had you."

I groaned. "Dad, do you want me to get someone pregnant and bring her home?"

Mom choked on her water. "Aviyukt!"

Dad burst out laughing. "No, no! I'm not saying that. I'm saying-at least love someone."

I hesitated. Then quietly said,

"I like someone."

Both of them leaned in instantly.

"But I won't approach her," I added quickly. "She's my junior. She has her own life, her own future. She needs to focus."

Dad blinked. "Oh my God."

Mom smiled softly. "You kids are unpredictable."

I smirked and changed the topic. "Dad, if you love Mom so much, why do I not have a sibling?"

He stared at me. "What?"

"You heard me."

He grinned mischievously. "If you want a sibling, just say it. We're still young-both thirty-six. We can give you one."

"NO," I said immediately. "Absolutely not."

Dad shrugged. "I have plenty of stamina."

Mom smacked his arm. "Liar. This man fainted on a bench while I was in labor."

"That was strategic rest."

They started laughing-and then Dad kissed Mom's forehead.

"Mom. Dad. Please," I groaned. "Stop."

Dad looked at me, smiling. "If we had stopped that day, you wouldn't exist."

Mom added softly, "And we wouldn't trade you for anything."

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled.

***

My phone buzzed just as I lay staring at the ceiling.

Veyom calling.

I sighed and picked up.

"What?"

"Wow," Veyom said immediately. "Such warmth. Such affection. Truly blessed to be your best friend."

"Say what you want to say," I muttered.

There was a pause. Then, more carefully than usual, he said, "So... I heard something."

I closed my eyes. "What?"

"Varun," he said. "Apparently, he's planning to propose to Vedika at the farewell."

Silence.

Something inside me went still.

"Oh," I finally said.

That was all.

Veyom noticed immediately. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That one-word thing," he said. "It's scary."

I let out a slow breath. "Okay. So... what do you think she'll say?"

There it was. The question I didn't want to ask.

Veyom hummed dramatically. "Hmm. Possibilities."

"Veyom."

"Fine," he sighed. "If she says yes-she has a boyfriend."

My chest tightened.

"And if she says no?" I asked quietly.

"Then she doesn't," he replied easily. "Either way, life goes on."

"You're too calm about this."

"That's because," he said proudly, "I am not in love."

I scoffed. "Helpful."

He laughed. "Relax. Look, if she says yes and you're heartbroken-don't worry. I'll buy the drinks."

"I don't drink."

"I know," he said cheerfully. "I'll drink. You can cry."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

"And listen," he added, softer now. "Even if she dates him... it doesn't mean she gets married tomorrow."

"Why are you saying that?" I asked.

"Because," he said, "you look like the kind of guy who thinks one answer decides everything."

I said nothing.

He continued, lighter again, "And who knows? Maybe Varun is just bluffing. Or maybe he chickens out. Or maybe Vedika scares him."

"She doesn't scare people," I said automatically.

"Oh, she does," Veyom replied. "Just not loudly."

I closed my eyes.

"Aviyukt," he said gently, "whatever happens... don't regret staying silent forever."

"I'm not planning to say anything," I admitted.

"Figures," he sighed. "Head Boy in school, mute in love."

"Good night, Veyom."

"Good night, tragic hero," he laughed.

"And hey-keep your heart intact till farewell. After that, it's free damage."

The call ended.

The room felt quieter than before.

I stared at my phone, then at the ceiling again.

Maybe she would say yes.

Maybe she wouldn't.

Either way-

I would still care.

And that, somehow, felt like the most dangerous part.

Vedika's POV:

The school felt louder than usual.

Everywhere I looked, someone was arguing about something-music, lights, flowers, banners. It was almost time for the 12th grade farewell, and somehow the entire school had turned into a battlefield.

I was standing near the corridor when I spotted Ritika, hands on her hips, wearing a bright yellow hairband like she was ready for war.

And then there was our senior, Veyom.

"What is that thing on your head?" he said, squinting at her.

"Looks like a warning sign."

Ritika gasped dramatically. "Excuse me? Don't tell me what to wear. Focus on the decorations instead of judging my fashion."

"I am focused," Veyom said. "That's why I'm saying-blue balloons."

She pointed at him like a prosecutor.

"No. Red balloons. Farewell is romantic."

"Romantic?" he scoffed. "This is a school function, not a breakup party."

They were now standing in the middle of the hall, arguing like sworn enemies.

"I already told the juniors-blue side is ours!" Veyom declared.

Ritika shot back, "I already told the seniors-red side is final!"

Students from ninth class were leaving for their picnic tour, laughing and waving, while tenth graders were busy arranging chairs for their farewell too.

And here we were-arguing over balloon colors like the fate of the universe depended on it.

"Why are you both shouting?" I asked, stepping between them.

They ignored me completely.

"I swear," Ritika said, "if you put blue balloons, I'll remove them myself."

"And I'll put them back," Veyom replied. "Again. And again."

I tried to separate them, placing a hand out-

And suddenly Veyom said casually,

"Relax, bhabi."

Everything froze.

I blinked. "What?"

Ritika's mouth dropped open.

I felt my ears burn. "Not bhabi," he said quickly. "Barbie. I mean barbie."

Veyom stared. Then burst out laughing.

"Please, Accept Correction."

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

They both walked away still arguing, shouting about balloons like sworn rivals, and I stood there wondering how my life had become this weird.

Ritika came back five minutes later, shaking her head.

"What kind of guy is he?" she muttered. "So annoying."

Then she paused, looked in the direction Veyom had gone, and smirked.

"...But wow. Look at his face. Not even handsome. Not good height too."

I rolled my eyes. "Focus on the decorations."

She laughed and went back to work.

A little later, Varun came up to me. He looked nervous.

"Vedika," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I... I want to tell you something. On farewell day."

Before I could ask anything, he smiled awkwardly and walked away.

Ritika practically jumped on me.

"Oh my God. OH MY GOD. He's going to propose, isn't he?"

"No way," I said immediately. "No. Not him. Definitely not."

She grinned. "Okay, okay. Just be ready."

The day felt long after that.

Since Dad was on a business trip, it was just Mom and me at home. Exams were near, tuition was supposed to happen-but I found out it was a holiday.

So I went home early.

When I reached our house, the door was open.

That was strange.

I stepped inside.

And I froze

The house was crowded.

Too crowded.

My buas, my grandmother, relatives who usually didn't even remember our birthdays-they were all sitting in our living room, wiping fake tears from their eyes.

My mother was serving them tea with shaking hands.

That's when I knew something was wrong.

They never came to our house.

They never cared.

So why today?

I stepped inside slowly.

My mother saw me and immediately walked toward me. She pulled me into a tight hug, her body trembling.

"Vedika..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Your father... he has pancreatic cancer."

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

"What?"

My ears buzzed. My head spun.

"He's on a trip," I said blankly. "He was fine when he left."

My mother shook her head.

"He is coming back today. He wasn't feeling well. The reports came this morning."

My legs felt weak.

Cancer.

Pancreatic cancer.

Before I could even process it, my grandmother started beating her chest dramatically.

"She never fed him properly!" she cried loudly, pointing straight at my mother.

"That woman destroyed my son. Poor food, poor care-this is why he is suffering!"

My bua immediately joined in.

"Oh God, my poor brother. Look what he endured."

My chaachu and chaachi sat silently, but their eyes were full of judgment-like they had already decided who was guilty.

I snapped.

"What the hell?What are you even saying?" I shouted."It's not my mom's fault! Cancer doesn't happen because of food!"

My bua turned toward my mother sharply."Reenu, didn't you teach your daughter how to talk to elders? Look at her tone. So mannerless."

I clenched my fists.

More relatives arrived. More sympathy.

More drama.

Then the door opened.

My father walked in.

He looked tired. Irritated. Weak-but still the same man who controlled the room with his presence.

The abusive man I had grown up fearing.

Everyone suddenly went silent.

He sat down heavily and spoke, his voice rough. "The doctor says surgery is needed. As soon as possible."

That's when the real conversation began.

Money.

I learned things that day I shouldn't have had to.

My bua had taken money from my father when she bought her house.

My chaachu had taken money for his wedding and gold jewelry.

Now, when my father needed help?

They suddenly had none.

Excuses started pouring in.

My mother tried to explain calmly. Tried to reason.

That's when my father lost it." Reenu, you were right? I did everything." he snapped. "When I needed support, none of you is here."

Instead of helping, they turned on my mother.

"She provoked him."

"She controlled him."

"She ruined his health."

My grandmother looked at me sharply.

"And this girl-talking back like this. She learned it from her mother."

I was burning inside.

Anger. Helplessness. Hatred.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something.

But my mother held my hand tightly and whispered,"Don't say anything. Let them leave."

They asked me to go to my room.

Later, from behind the closed door, I heard my mother fighting back alone, defending herself when I wasn't there.

After four exhausting hours, they finally left.

The house fell silent.

Just my father, my mother, and me.

And then it hit me.

Moksh wasn't home.

He was at maasi's house.

If he were here, at least I wouldn't feel so alone. I was in my room, but I could hear everything.

"You dare talk to me like that?" my father yelled.

"You think I owe you respect? I gave you everything! Money, clothes-everything! And look at you, talking back like I am the villain!"

I could hear my mother crying, trying to reason."I did nothing to you! Why are you shouting at us? Why are you blaming everything on me?"

I heard skin hit skin.

A slap.

Then another. I ran out of my room.

"STOP!" I screamed."Don't you dare hit my mother!" I shouted, standing in front of her.

"Your health isn't even okay. Stop this!"

"I paid for your studies!" he roared. "I paid for every uniform, every book, every little thing you ever had! And this is how you repay me? By talking like a spoiled brat?"

I clenched my fists. I couldn't breathe.

"I... I won't let you hit my mother!" I screamed, running out of my room.

"Stop it! She is not your enemy!"

He turned, his eyes wild, and threw his slipper at me. It hit my cheek. Hard. Pain shot through me.

"My mother and sister were right!" he shouted.

"You never taught her manners! Look at how she talks back! I gave her everything and this is how she thanks me!"

I couldn't hold it anymore. I burst into tears.

"You're pathetic! You think giving me money makes you a father? You think that makes you good? You are nothing!"

My mother stepped forward, trying to shield me.

"Vedika... please... go to your room!" she begged.

"I WON'T!" I yelled. "You can't just let him hit you like this!"

She screamed at me, louder than I had ever heard.

"VEDIKA! GO TO YOUR ROOM. RIGHT NOW!"

I ran, shaking, back into my room. My heart was pounding. My cheek hurt where the slipper hit.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock. My mother came in. Her eyes were red, face pale.

"Ma... why don't you leave him? Why do you stay?" I cried.

"Why do you let him do this to you? To us?" She sighed, sitting down beside me, pulling me close.

"Vedika... you don't understand," she said, voice breaking.

"I have no education, no money. If I leave him, I have nothing. Nothing to survive on. Your father... your father spent everything on himself, on his siblings... even alimony wouldn't save us."

I felt a flash of anger.

"Then why should I give my exams? Why should I study? If he's paying for everything, let him! I won't do it!"

Her grip tightened on my arm.

"What? What the fuck are you doing, Vedika?" she said, harshly, almost screaming.

"Why wouldn't you give your exams? You think life is about just surviving? You think just because I stay with him, you can give up?"

I shook my head, tears streaming.

"But Ma... he controls everything! I'm tired of it! I don't want to live like this!"

She pressed her forehead against mine.

"No! You don't understand! That's why I want you to study. That's why I am forcing you. Because if you don't... you will end up like me. You will marry a man just like him. You will suffer, starve, and cry like I do every day!"

Her words hit me harder than any slap, harder than anything my father had ever done.

"I want you to be independent, Vedika. I want you to have choices. You will give your exams. You will not waste your life like I did. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my body trembling. I couldn't speak. I wanted to scream, to run, to hit something-but I couldn't.

I silently wished that my mother had been wrong, but she isn't. She is right, and that's why she is surviving. That was more painful than anything.

This was her way of protecting me. And it hurt. More than anything else.

Third-Person POV:

The farewell decorations sparkled under the hall lights, balloons swaying gently, ribbons fluttering with every whisper of excitement. Everyone was waiting-students, teachers, and friends-all eagerly anticipating Vedika's arrival.

Varun shifted impatiently near the stage, glancing at the entrance every few seconds. He had rehearsed his words, the proposal he had planned, the moment he had imagined a hundred times. But Vedika hadn't appeared yet.

Veyom leaned against the side wall, eyes following the entrance. "Bro... you look like someone just told you your life's about to end," he said, nudging Aviyukt.

"I'm serious," Aviyukt muttered, his hands tightening around the mic stand. "What if she says yes to Varun?"

Veyom laughed, half-amused, half-concerned. "Then you cry in the corner like a good Head Boy, I buy the drinks later. Problem solved."

"It's not that simple," Aviyukt said, voice low. "I've... I've been preparing something for her. A performance. Something she'll understand-something only for her. But... she hasn't even shown up yet."

Veyom raised an eyebrow. "You're singing? For her? Bro... this is either going to make you look like a genius or a complete idiot."

"I don't care," Aviyukt said, more firmly. "I just... I need her to know. Even if she never says anything."

Veyom smirked, shaking his head. "Man, you're ridiculous. But okay. Just... don't screw it up. And if she walks in now, don't let her see you panic."

Aviyukt closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his breath. "I won't. She'll understand. Somehow, she'll understand."

Veyom nudged him one last time. "Good luck, bro. Don't get cold feet. The world's watching, but your heart... it's the only thing that matters."

The farewell hall buzzed with excitement. Everyone was waiting for Vedika to arrive. Varun, standing near the front, scanned the crowd nervously.

"Ritika," he finally asked, unable to hide his confusion, "why hasn't your friend come yet?"

Ritika's eyes glistened, pain seeping through her calm facade. "Her father... he has pancreatic cancer. She couldn't come today," she said softly, her voice breaking slightly.

Varun froze. Across the hall, Veyom and Aviyukt heard every word. Their excitement dimmed, replaced with concern. Veyom muttered under his breath, "Man... that's... rough."

He glanced at Aviyukt. "So... what are you going to do now?"

Aviyukt's jaw tightened. His hands wrapped around the mic stand. "Doesn't matter if she comes or not. I'm going to sing. Today, I decide. She'll know... somehow."

The room fell quiet as Aviyukt stepped onto the stage. He took a deep breath and let his heart pour into every note. It was his own song-original, raw, and full of unspoken emotions. Every line, every chord, carried a message meant for Vedika alone, even if no one else could understand it.

The audience was captivated. Students whispered to each other about how different, how touching it was. No one had ever performed like this before. It wasn't just music-it was truth, longing, and confession all in one.

Vedika didn't appear that day. Varun's planned confession remained unspoken. Aviyukt's love, quietly and indirectly, reached her in a way words could not.

After that farewell, life shifted. Paths diverged. Vedika's absence marked the end of that chapter. Varun and Aviyukt, despite their feelings, had their own journeys to follow. The connection that night remained unspoken, unresolved, and forever poignant.

They went on their separate paths, never returning to that moment-or each other-in the same way again.