Avyansh's POV
I knew something had changed the second I saw them leave together. Siddhartha's hand almost touching hers. Eyana's eyes fixed forward, like she wasn't walking away from me but towards something—someone—else.
That should've been me.
It was me.
But somehow, in the chaos, I lost her.
No—Siddhartha took her.
He'd warned me once.
I still remember that night. Two months ago. I was pacing outside the library, phone clutched in my hand, waiting for Eyana to call back after a fight. And Siddhartha—annoyingly calm Siddhartha—had leaned against the pillar beside me, arms crossed.
"You know," he said, not looking at me, "if you keep playing with her like that, one day she won't come back."
I rolled my eyes. "You don't know anything about us."
He smiled—cool, knowing. "Maybe not. But I know her. And when she walks away for good... I'll be the one she runs to."
It didn't hit me then.
It hit me now.
And the worst part? He wasn't wrong.
Because when she looked at him today, there was a softness I hadn't seen in months. Not since the day she wore that maroon kurta and whispered that I was her 'almost home'.
I clenched my jaw.
He couldn't have her.
Not him.
Not after everything.
If Siddhartha thought this was love, he clearly didn't know the rules. Love isn't something you earn with patience. It's something you fight for. Even if it means getting dirty.
Even if it means becoming the villain in someone else's story.
Eyana's POV
It should've felt easier, walking away from Avyansh.
But the truth was—I still looked for him in the quietest parts of my day. In songs that reminded me of stolen moments. In the corner of my mind where I kept his voice, his scent, his chaos.
But Siddhartha... he was different.
He brought calm to my hurricane. Steady hands, a patient smile. And when I was with him, I didn't have to survive. I could breathe.
So why did I feel like I was betraying something?
Maybe I wasn't ready to let go.
Maybe I was in love with a version of Avyansh that didn't exist anymore.
Or maybe... love isn't about letting go or holding on.
Maybe it's about choosing.
And I didn't know who I was choosing yet.
Siddhartha's POV
I saw the way she looked at him.
She didn't smile, didn't speak.
But she felt.
I could see it in the way her breath caught when his name was mentioned, in the silence she held when she should've moved on.
She wasn't mine.
Not yet.
But I wasn't backing down.
Because I loved her. The real her. Not the perfect girl Avyansh put on a pedestal and then shattered.
I loved her messy thoughts, her chai obsession, her quiet heartbreak.
I saw her—and that meant something.
So when I passed by Avyansh in the hallway the next day, I didn't flinch. I just looked him in the eye.
"She deserves better," I said quietly. "And I plan to be that."
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "That's the thing with deserving," he replied. "It's not about who's better. It's about who gets there first."
And in that moment, I knew—
He wasn't done with her.
And neither was I.
Scene Cut – A Game Begins
The auditorium door clicked shut as Avyansh slipped inside, watching from the shadows.
On stage, Eyana was rehearsing for the upcoming cultural fest with Siddhartha. Their laughter, soft and easy, echoed through the space.
Avyansh narrowed his eyes.
He'd lost her once by standing still.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
And if Siddhartha thought love was a fair game...
He was about to learn that jealousy plays dirt
Tejal's POV
There are things people don't say out loud. But you feel them—like heat rising before a wildfire.
That's what it felt like, watching Eyana these days.
Like she was standing in the eye of something dangerous.
I saw her today after practice, curled against the corridor wall, Siddhartha beside her—his bag between them, like a quiet promise not to cross boundaries she wasn't ready for. He was talking, she was nodding—but her smile didn't reach her eyes. Not the way it used to when she was with him.
Avyansh.
Even his name felt sharp now.
He walked past them without looking. Head high, jaw tight, pretending he didn't see them. But I saw the flick of his fingers, the clenched fist. I knew that kind of anger. The kind that isn't rage—it's fear dressed up like pride.
"What are we watching?" Jhanvi whispered beside me, notebook in hand.
I didn't answer at first. Because what were we watching?
A love story? A heartbreak? Or a war?
"She loves them both," I finally said. "But in different languages."
Jhanvi blinked. "And who speaks hers?"
I didn't know.
Because Eyana with Siddhartha was healing. But Eyana with Avyansh? That was history.
And history... never dies quietly.
Eyana's POV
Tejal doesn't ask anymore.
She just watches me, like she already knows the war going on in my chest.
Because yes—I loved Avyansh.
Even after the silences, the confusion, the broken things he never apologized for. I loved him like a first language, something I never had to translate to understand.
But Siddhartha...
He was becoming the dictionary I didn't know I needed. With him, there were no games. No waiting three hours for a reply. No questioning my worth.
Still, every time Avyansh brushed past me—his scent a flash of old monsoon memories—my heart stuttered. And I hated that it did.
I hated that part of me still looked for him in rooms he wasn't in.
"Do you think," I asked Tejal that night as we sat on her terrace, "you can love two people at the same time?"
She looked at me like she wanted to lie. But she didn't.
"I think," she said slowly, "you can be in love with one, and haunted by the other."
Avyansh's POV (Late Night)
Her last message was left on read.
He knew it would get to her.
He knew Siddhartha wouldn't play it this way—wouldn't push and pull. But Avyansh wasn't trying to win fair anymore.
He was just trying to win her back.
Even if it meant becoming the version of himself he swore he'd left behind.
Because she was his.
Before Siddhartha.
Before the change.
Before the world knew.
Morning Assembly Hall – Friday, 9:27 a.m.
Eyana's POV
There's something cruel about excitement when your heart is tired.
The entire class buzzed with energy. Even the usually sleepy benches at the back were awake, heads up, phones tucked away in anticipation.
I sat between Tejal and Meghana, trying to mimic their enthusiasm. I smiled when Tejal elbowed me, but my fingers stayed curled around the pen I wasn't writing with.
Because I already knew what was coming.
And somehow, I already knew who it would come with.
"Everyone," Ms. Saxena said, stepping up with a clipboard that instantly quieted the room. "Next week, we'll be heading out for our long-awaited field trip to Kasauli. A full-day trek, campfire night, and outdoor learning experience—team-based and compulsory."
The word compulsory echoed louder than intended. Groans. Cheers. Whispers.
"But," she continued, voice sharp, "we'll be working in pairs for the trek segments. You'll be assessed on coordination, cooperation, and observation. Teams are final, no swapping. This isn't a picnic—it's a school program. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," the class replied in unison.
I didn't. My voice had gotten lost somewhere between my ribs.
Because two seats down, Siddhartha sat up straighter, like something good was about to happen. And across the room, Avyansh was spinning his pen slowly between his fingers—expression unreadable, except for the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Ms. Saxena began reading names.
"Team 1: Kian and Jhanvi. Team 2: Meghana and Aarav..."
The tension was rising like a tide. Tejal's hand gripped my sleeve.
"Please," I whispered, "just let me be paired with Tejal or literally anyone who doesn't make my heart malfunction."
"Team 4..." Ms. Saxena looked up. Her eyes met mine for a half-second too long.
"Eyana ... and Avyansh."
A pause.
Not even dramatic. Just quiet.
Too quiet.
My lungs forgot how to breathe.
The class didn't erupt. No one said anything. But I knew people were thinking. Imagining. Assuming.
And Siddhartha?
I didn't dare look at him.
Tejal muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "God really is playing spin the bottle with your life."
Avyansh didn't react. Not visibly. Just leaned back in his chair, pen still spinning, gaze now locked on me.
It wasn't triumph.
It was possession.
Like he'd just been handed a key he hadn't even asked for—because he already believed the lock was his.
School Courtyard – That afternoon, 2:18 p.m.
Eyana's POV
The bell rang, but the air didn't move.
Not when I stepped outside. Not when the corridor emptied. Not when the weight of his presence found me near the old almond tree, exactly where we had once laughed over cold chai and misplaced notebooks.
Siddhartha stood there.
Like he'd been waiting—not for someone, but for me.
"You weren't going to say anything, were you?" he asked.
I didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. "About what?"
His jaw clenched.
"You and Avyansh. Trek partners."
"It's not a big deal."
His eyes burned through that lie instantly.
"It's not a big deal," he repeated, slower this time. "Right. Because walking beside someone who's already taken half your heart for granted sounds fun now?"
That struck deeper than I expected.
I looked away, the concrete suddenly more fascinating than his anger.
"I didn't choose it, Siddhartha," I whispered.
"But you didn't resist it either."
That hurt.
I wanted to scream at him—What did you want me to do? Fight the teacher? Demand a new partner like it was some rom-com rebellion?
But I didn't.
Because this wasn't a movie. It was a mess.
And maybe the scariest part was... a part of me didn't want to change it.
Not when it came to Avyansh. Not when there were still fragments of us I hadn't let go of.
Siddhartha stepped closer, voice lower. Not soft—just raw.
"He told me you'd always choose him."
My head snapped up.
"What?"
"Avyansh. A week ago. He said it straight to my face—that no matter what I felt for you, it didn't matter. Because at the end of the day, you'd still go running back to him."
Silence.
Not wind. Not birds. Not even my pulse made a sound.
"He's wrong," I said, barely.
But Siddhartha didn't smile.
"You sure?" he asked.
And I wasn't.
Not entirely.
Bus Journey to Kasauli – Monday Morning, 7:04 a.m.
The engine rumbled, and the bus lurched forward, a tired machine dragging thirty-two souls toward the misty hills of Kasauli.
Laughter echoed from the back.
Snacks rustled. Music leaked from earbuds. Teachers chatted softly at the front, checking attendance.
But somewhere in the center aisle, three teenagers sat too still for comfort.
Eyana, near the window, eyes locked on the highway trees that blurred like unfinished thoughts.
Avyansh, beside her, a casual slouch hiding the glint of victory in his gaze. One leg stretched out, one hand playing with the zipper of his jacket. His body was relaxed, but his silence buzzed with claim.
Siddhartha, two rows behind them, directly in line. Watching.
Not obviously. Just enough. A flicker of glance every few minutes. A tension in his shoulders that said something was unraveling, and he didn't know how to stop it.
Eyana didn't turn around.
She felt him, though.
Every heartbeat behind her.
Every unsaid word between them.
And every memory stitched into the silence they now shared.
Avyansh leaned in, voice low. "You nervous about the trek?"
"No," she said.
He smirked. "You lie prettier than you love."
She turned her head slightly, finally meeting his gaze.
"What makes you think I ever loved you?"
His smile didn't falter.
"What makes you think I ever stopped?"
Behind them, Siddhartha looked out the window.
But his fists, clenched in his lap, said more than his silence ever could.
The School Trip – Hillside Camp, Kasauli
Eyana's POV
"I swear if he's paired with me, I'm jumping off the cliff," I whispered under my breath, tightening the straps of my backpack as the teacher read out the team names.
Tejal snorted. "Relax. Worst-case scenario, you'll just murder him with a trekking stick."
But my gut twisted.
And then it happened.
"Team 4: Eyana Sharma... Avyansh Roy."
The silence in my chest was louder than the announcement.
I didn't look at him. I didn't have to. I could feel his presence—smug, static-heavy—like thunder before a storm. And when I finally did glance his way, he was already looking at me.
No smirk. No apology.
Just that unreadable expression he wore when he was trying too hard to act like he didn't care.
But his eyes?
They burned.
Avyansh's POV
Perfect.
That's what I told myself when our names were read together.
Exactly what I needed.
An entire afternoon alone with her.
To remind her what we had.
To make sure Siddhartha knew what he never would.
But when I caught her looking at me, something tugged in my chest—and not the good kind.
Because she didn't look excited. Or nervous.
She looked tired.
And suddenly, I hated myself for the part I played in that.
The trek began with easy silence.
Her eyes were on the trail. Mine were on her.
She walked like she was trying to outrun something.
"Still hate me?" I finally asked, hands in pockets.
She didn't even glance back. "Did I say that?"
"No," I said. "But you don't have to."
A pause. Sharp wind. The smell of eucalyptus and old resentment between us.
"You hurt me," she said flatly. "That's all there is."
I should've said sorry.
But instead, I did what I always did—hide behind ego.
"I didn't mean to," I said. "But if he's what you want now, I hope he can handle the mess I left behind."
She stopped walking.
Turned to me, eyes wide—furious.
"You don't get to say that, Avyansh."
Her voice cracked like ice.
"I'm not a war between boys. I'm not a consequence of your jealousy."
And that hit harder than I expected.
Because for once—I didn't know what to say.
Eyana's POV
We walked in silence for the next half-hour.
Until I tripped on a loose stone. Not dramatically. Just enough to jolt.
He caught me by reflex.
And for a moment, just a single flicker of time—
His arms were around me again.
The way they used to be.
Safe. Stupidly safe.
Our eyes met. Mine—confused. His—familiar.
But then I stepped back.
And he let go.
Avyansh's POV
She smells like ginger chai and goodbye.
And I hated that I still remembered.
I hated Siddhartha more for being gentle with her when I had been reckless.
But the truth?
I hated myself most of all.
So when Siddhartha caught up with us near the hilltop checkpoint—smiling like he belonged—I did what I shouldn't have.
I pulled her wrist.
Just lightly. Just enough for Siddhartha to see.
"Careful," I said lowly. "Wouldn't want you to get lost."
She yanked her hand back like I burned her.
And maybe I had.
But at least Siddhartha knew.
She was mine once.
And a part of her still hadn't walked away.
Siddhartha's POV
I arrived late. But I saw everything.
The wrist grab. Her flinch. His smirk.
This wasn't about love anymore.
It was about power.
And I wasn't going to let Avyansh win that game.
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