The final day of the debate.
The corridors buzzed louder than usual, filled with students rushing around in neatly ironed uniforms and rehearsed lines repeating under their breath. It wasn't just a school event today—it felt like something bigger. Maybe because it was.
For me, it wasn't just about debating in front of everyone. It was about proving I wasn't the girl everyone thought I was. Not my classmates. Not the teachers. Not even my parents.
I stood in front of the mirror in the girl's washroom, my cue cards trembling slightly in my hands.
"You've got this," I whispered to myself.
Outside, I could already hear Tejal and Jhanvi calling my name.
"Eyana! Are you alive or should we start mourning now?" Tejal joked.
I stepped out, giving them a half-smile. "Very funny. You guys ready?"
"Born ready," Veeryansh said dramatically, adjusting his tie.
"Let's destroy the other team," Atharva added, fist-bumping Avyansh.
And speaking of him...
He caught my eye with a quiet smile. "You look confident," he said, walking beside me.
"I'm pretending well, then."
He chuckled. "Don't pretend. Just be the you I saw prepping for this all week. She's unstoppable."
Something about the way he said it gave me a small wave of calm
Auditorium – Later that Morning
Rows of students filled the audience, teachers sat with evaluation sheets, and the mic stood waiting at the center of the stage like a spotlight daring someone to choke.
Our team was called last.
I could feel my heart beating in my throat when Avyansh leaned in from behind me and whispered, "I'll go first. You follow me. We've got this, okay?"
I nodded.
He walked to the mic, calm and composed like it was just another conversation. His opening lines were sharp and clear, each word hitting like it belonged. The crowd was silent—but in a good way. They were listening.
Then it was my turn.
I stood under the lights, trying not to shake. But the moment I spoke, something clicked. My voice was steady. The words I had written felt like they mattered. I wasn't just reciting. I was speaking—for the first time, really speaking.
We talked about love, how it changes from generation to generation. How it's more than just romance. It's resilience, understanding, the unspoken support you find even in silence.
Each teammate played their part. Tejal's punchlines. Jhanvi's stats. Veeryansh's energy. Atharva's poise.
We were a team. For once, I belonged.
After the Debate
The crowd applauded. Judges nodded. And though we didn't know the results yet—something felt complete.
Outside the auditorium, Avyansh walked up to me, brushing his knuckle gently against my arm.
"You were brilliant," he said softly.
"So were you."
"I'm proud of you, Eyana. Like... genuinely."
I smiled, really smiled. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you, pigass."
He laughed. "We're back to insults, huh?"
"Always."
As we stood there surrounded by our friends, laughing, teasing, and riding the high of the moment—I realized something.
I wasn't just someone's teammate. Or someone's daughter. Or someone trying to prove herself anymore.
I was me.
And I was finally learning how to be okay with that.
Results Announcement Scene
The auditorium buzzed with low murmurs. Everyone was back in their seats, now slightly more fidgety, some chewing pens, others tapping feet. We'd done our part. Now it was in the hands of the judges.
I sat between Tejal and Avyansh, my leg bouncing under the desk. My cue cards were still clutched in my hand though I no longer needed them. They were like a comfort object now—proof that I'd made it this far.
"I feel like I'm about to throw up," Jhanvi whispered beside me.
"Do it on Atharva," Tejal grinned. "He deserves it for making us all practice at 7 a.m. yesterday."
"Totally worth it," Atharva replied smugly.
We laughed—nervously. The moment was real now. Principal Ma'am walked up to the mic, smiling politely, holding a folded paper.
Here we go.
"Thank you all for your wonderful participation in today's interschool debate," she began. "Each team brought something unique to the stage, and the level of preparation was commendable."
My heartbeat echoed in my ears. My palms were sweaty. Avyansh subtly tapped his fingers twice on the desk, the rhythm steady. A signal. Breathe.
"The results were not easy to decide," one of the judges added, taking over. "But after much discussion, we're ready to announce the winning team of this year's debate."
We held our breath.
"And the first place goes to..."
A pause. A dramatic, over-the-top pause.
"Northvale High – Team B!"
For a moment, I didn't move.
Then—screams. Cheers. Our team literally jumped to their feet. Jhanvi shrieked. Tejal hugged me like a lifeline. Atharva and Veeryansh fist-bumped so hard it echoed.
"We did it!" someone yelled—I think it was Avyansh.
I blinked fast, tears threatening to form. Not the bad kind, but the kind that made my heart feel like it could finally breathe. We won.
As we stepped up to the stage to receive our certificate and trophy, I caught a glimpse of the audience. Even the students who once rolled their eyes at me were clapping. Some even cheering.
And then, as I turned slightly to my right, I saw Avyansh glance at me, a soft look in his eyes.
"I told you," he mouthed.
I smiled back, whispering, "Thank you."
Because somehow, along with my team, this moment was ours too.
From the side of the auditorium, Samiksha ma'am stood frozen, arms crossed, her jaw tight. Her eyes followed us as we walked across the stage, the trophy gleaming like the truth she didn't want to face.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
She had counted on our failure—nudged us with doubt, mocked our teamwork, tried to pair students strategically to sabotage progress. And yet, here we were, beaming on stage, holding proof of our victory.
Her smile was tight, forced. She clapped exactly three times, slowly, before turning to whisper something to the teacher beside her. Her eyes didn't meet mine.
And just like that, I knew: she didn't win.
We did.
Atharva called us and said guys let's celebrate today at the café.
Celebration at La Vie Café
The trophy sat proudly at the center of the café table, glinting under the warm café lights like it was just as excited to be there with us.
"Dude, I swear this trophy is going to be our child now," Atharva declared, cradling it like a baby.
"Please don't name it," Tejal rolled her eyes. "I beg you."
"Too late. I already did. Meet—Sir Win-a-lot," he grinned.
Laughter erupted around the table. The tension of the debate was officially gone, replaced by hot fries, cold frappes, and victory-fueled chaos.
"Guys, we actually did it," Jhanvi said in disbelief, sipping from her Oreo shake. "I mean, I thought we'd pass out before speaking, but we killed it!"
"Killed it?" Veeryansh smirked. "We massacred the stage."
Eyana chuckled, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup, still caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. She looked up just as Avyansh slid into the seat beside her.
"Not bad for a team built from chaos," he said, nudging her shoulder.
"Not bad at all," she smiled. "I mean, you still talk too much, but you're a decent partner."
"Oh? That's how it is?" he raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.
"Yup," she grinned. "But thanks—for everything."
The playful tension softened for a second. No more anger, no more walls. Just... peace.
"Let's take a selfie!" Tejal announced suddenly, pulling out her phone and cutting through the soft silence like a true chaos queen. "This moment needs to be posted everywhere."
Everyone squeezed in, Avyansh's arm brushing against Eyana's as they leaned close. Tejal held the phone up. "Okay, say 'we beat the system!'"
"WE BEAT THE SYSTEM!" they all shouted, the click of the camera sealing the memory forever.
As the group settled back, fries disappearing again and drinks being slurped noisily, Eyana leaned back in her chair. The sounds of her friends laughing, arguing, teasing—it all felt like the warmest background music.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was just surviving.
She was living.
The laughter from La Vie Café still echoed in Eyana's ears as she stepped out into the night air. The group had parted ways, full bellies and fuller hearts, but her feet didn't take her straight home. Somehow, she ended up on the rooftop of the old library behind the café — the spot she'd once shown Avyansh by accident.
To her surprise, he was already there.
Leaning against the railing, eyes lifted to the sky like he was searching for answers in the stars. The moonlight hit his face just right, softening all the sharpness in him.
She walked over silently, taking her place beside him.
He glanced sideways. "You always end up here when something's heavy on your mind."
"You remember that?" she asked, surprised.
"I remember more than you think," he said quietly.
They stood in silence for a while. The night wasn't cold, but the breeze carried just enough of a chill to make her fold her arms. Not for warmth. For comfort.
"You were amazing today," he finally said.
"So were you," she replied. "Though you still get too dramatic on stage."
"I'm a performer at heart," he shrugged with a small smile. "But I meant it—everything we said up there. About love...about how people misunderstand it."
Eyana nodded slowly. "Felt like we weren't just debating. We were saying everything we never got to say before."
Avyansh looked down for a moment, then back at her. "Hey... about the things I said that day—"
She cut him off with a soft voice. "You already apologized, Avyansh. And I forgave you."
"But I still think about it," he admitted. "Because when I looked at you today—up there, confident and fearless—I felt proud. And guilty. All at once. You didn't deserve any of that from me."
A small pause.
Eyana looked at him, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a soft breath.
"Do you know why I forgave you?"
He shook his head.
"Because you were the first person to hurt me who actually came back... and meant it when they said sorry."
For a moment, nothing was said. Just the stars, the wind, the faint sound of the city breathing below.
Then Avyansh leaned a little closer. "If I promise to never hurt you again... will you promise to keep debating with me?"
Eyana laughed softly. "I can't promise I won't argue with you."
"I wouldn't want you to."
They shared a look — not loud, not obvious, but something delicate and forming. Something honest.
And as she rested her head gently against his shoulder, Avyansh smiled, letting the silence stretch.
For the first time in a long time, neither of them felt alone.
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