Campfire Night – Hilltop Campsite
The fire cracked in the middle of a circle of teens who were mostly laughing, some humming softly to a guitar being played out of tune. Teachers were further off, distracted. The stars hung close tonight—as if they wanted to watch what was about to unfold.
Eyana sat between Meghana and Siddhartha, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of chai that didn't warm her nearly enough. Her gaze kept drifting, no matter how hard she resisted, to the boy sitting across the fire.
Avyansh.
He wasn't laughing.
He was watching her.
Not just watching—staring.
And not at Siddhartha. At her.
As if she was the fire.
Siddhartha's fingers brushed against hers, subtle, a question without words.
She didn't flinch, but she didn't respond either.
And Avyansh noticed.
He stood abruptly. Walked over. "Hey, Eyana. You forgot your bottle back at the tents. Want me to grab it?"
Before she could answer, Siddhartha stood too. "She's fine, man. We're good here."
The tension sparked, a flicker behind both boys' eyes.
"Funny," Avyansh said coolly, "because I didn't ask you."
Eyana's throat dried.
"Enough," she said sharply. "Both of you. What is this?"
But neither of them was listening anymore.
"I told you," Siddhartha muttered, his voice low, burning. "Back in February—I told you she's not yours."
"Oh?" Avyansh stepped closer. "You think sweet poems and chai dates make you worthy of her?"
"I never claimed to own her," Siddhartha replied. "But I treat her like she matters."
"And I don't?" Avyansh snapped.
Eyana stood up, between them. "Stop it. I'm not a prize for you to fight over!"
They froze.
Even the fire seemed to hush.
And she walked off.
She didn't look back.
Later That Night – Tents Area, Girls' Side
The wind had settled. Only the rustling of leaves and the faint hum of crickets kept the silence company. Most of the students were tucked away in their tents.
Eyana walked slowly along the gravel path, the moonlight brushing her shoulders bare. The navy-blue dress she wore hugged her softly—delicate fabric swaying around her legs. It wasn't meant for anyone. And yet...
She felt him before she saw him.
His presence came like a breath on her neck, like a memory that hadn't quite let go.
And then—
A hand wrapped around her waist.
She let out a quiet gasp as Avyansh pulled her gently toward him, her back against his chest.
"Still wearing blue," he murmured near her ear.
She froze, breath stuck somewhere between her ribs.
His voice—low, unreadable—slipped under her skin like it had done a hundred times before.
"Why do you still do this to me, Eyana?" he whispered. "Why do I still want to stay every time you walk away?"
She turned slowly in his hold, and now she was facing him.
His eyes weren't angry anymore. They were heavy. Burning. Holding questions she didn't know how to answer.
"I didn't ask for this," she said, her voice a hush.
"But you didn't stop it either," he replied, eyes flickering to her lips.
She parted her lips to speak—something, anything—but her words faltered when his hand slid up to cradle the side of her face.
And she almost leaned in.
Almost.
Her lashes fluttered.
Her heart screamed.
Her fingers gripped the fabric of his hoodie.
She was seconds away from surrendering—when—
Laughter.
Tejal and Jhanvi's voices echoed down the path, coming closer.
Eyana blinked, heart racing.
Reality snapped back.
She stepped away. Quickly. Fixing her hair, pulling her dress higher on her shoulder.
Avyansh didn't move. He just looked at her.
"I should go," she whispered, her voice now barely hers.
"You always do," he murmured, not with anger—but with something sadder.
She turned and walked toward her tent, her pulse still frantic, her lips still tingling from a kiss that hadn't happened.
Tejal's voice called, "Eyana? You there?"
"Yeah," she called back, steadying herself. "Just needed some air."
But her thoughts didn't settle that night.
Not with the ghost of his hand still lingering on her waist.
Mornings and Motions
The air smelled of dew and pine. The camp was slowly waking up—zippers unzipping, kettles hissing, and yawns stretching into the chilled morning. But Avyansh had been awake long before any of that.
He sat on the edge of a wooden bench near the lake, elbows on his knees, his hoodie pulled over his head.
He hadn't slept.
He could still feel the softness of her waist beneath his hand, the way her breath hitched when he leaned in.
The way she almost let go.
And then—how fast she vanished again.
Why did he always lose her just when he thought he had her?
His jaw clenched.
She had melted in his arms last night. He knew it. She didn't deny it.
But something kept pulling her back—pulling her away from him.
And he didn't even need to guess who it was.
Siddhartha.
He ran a hand through his hair.
This wasn't about rivalry anymore. It was about the one girl he'd never been able to walk away from—and how she was slipping again.
Scene: Breakfast Campfire
Tejal sulked beside Jhanvi, both of them poking their plates with wooden spoons instead of eating. Their half-burnt aloo parathas sat abandoned.
"They should've been here, yaar," Jhanvi muttered, her voice soft. "Veeryansh would've loved this forest trek."
Tejal nodded. "And Atharva said he'd bring that Bluetooth speaker. This trip is so dull without them."
"They'll never choose a school trip over a state tournament," Jhanvi said dramatically.
Both sighed together. Their moods matched the gray fog still hovering between the trees.
From a distance, Eyana watched them, smiling slightly. Tejal and Jhanvi's theatrics had a charm of their own. But she couldn't deny a selfish part of her also missed them. Especially Veeryansh's teasing and Atharva's off-tune singing that somehow still made everyone laugh.
She turned back toward the trail—only to freeze.
Two boys stood there.
One was pulling off a navy backpack and the other flicked his sunglasses onto his head, smirking like he owned the woods.
"Miss us?" Veeryansh called out.
Jhanvi gasped.
"NO. WAY."
"Veeryansh!" Tejal practically shrieked, bolting from her seat. Jhanvi was right behind her.
Atharva caught Jhanvi in a hug mid-run, spinning her slightly. "Told you state tournaments don't last forever."
Veeryansh grinned. "We drove all night. Coach let us off this morning after our event ended early."
Eyana's eyes widened. "You guys—what?"
Veeryansh walked up to her and gave her a soft nudge. "Told you I'd crash this trip somehow."
She laughed, still stunned. "You're insane."
"Correction—we are," Atharva added, throwing an arm around both Tejal and Jhanvi who were still squealing like they'd won the lottery.
Avyansh stood a little apart, watching the reunion. He waited till the hugs died down before nodding for the boys to follow him a little away from the group.
They moved toward a quieter slope behind the tents.
Scene: Avyansh and the Boys – Private Talk
Veeryansh leaned against a tree. "What's up? You look like you've swallowed a storm."
Atharva raised a brow. "Is this about Siddhartha? Or... her?"
Avyansh rubbed his face. "Both."
"Damn," Veeryansh muttered. "How bad?"
"She's slipping," Avyansh said, voice low. "Last night, I got her to stay. For a moment, I thought—maybe this time—"
He stopped. Looked up at them.
"But she's torn. And Siddhartha—he's not backing off. He told me she'd be his. And the worst part is—he said it with this calm certainty, like he's already seen it happen."
Atharva's jaw tensed. "So what now?"
Avyansh looked away at the lake.
"I'm done playing soft. I'm not going to stand still while someone else steals the one thing I've never stopped wanting."
Veeryansh clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Then don't. But remember—when it comes to love, fire's good, Avy. But if it burns her instead of warming her, you'll lose her anyway."
Avyansh nodded silently. His eyes were already locked on the trail where Eyana had gone.
He wasn't backing down.
The Hidden Clearing – Eyana and Siddhartha
The late afternoon sun filtered gently through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. The camp had split into smaller groups—some near the river, others heading for a photo trail—but Eyana wandered off to a quieter spot near the backwoods, needing air.
She didn't expect Siddhartha to follow.
"Eyana," he called softly.
She turned. Her eyes flickered with surprise but softened when she saw it was him.
"I figured you'd be with Tejal and Jhanvi," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"They're busy fangirling over Veeryansh and Atharva," he smiled. "And I... wanted to talk."
She hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Okay."
They walked in silence for a few seconds until they reached a patch where the trees opened up into a quiet clearing. A place far from eyes—but not far enough.
From behind a thick trunk several meters away, Avyansh stood cloaked in shadows, watching.
Siddhartha bent slightly to pick a tiny flower and held it out to Eyana.
"Remember this?" he asked, half-smiling.
Eyana blinked. "Forget-me-nots."
"You told me once that if someone gave them to you, it meant they never wanted to be forgotten." His eyes held hers. "I never did."
She looked at the flower in his hand. She didn't take it. But she didn't walk away either.
"Why are you doing this, Siddhartha?" she whispered. "Why now?"
"Because I see the way you look at him," Siddhartha said gently. "And I see the way he looks at you. But I also see the moments you stop breathing when I say your name. You try to pretend it's not there—but it is."
Eyana opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Siddhartha stepped closer. "I'm not here to force you to choose. But I won't lie and say it doesn't kill me to see you drift toward someone who once broke you."
That hit her.
Hard.
"I never said I forgave him," she said quietly.
"But you still fall into his arms," Siddhartha murmured.
Her eyes darkened.
"He's not the same," she said.
"Neither am I."
There was a long pause.
And then he added, softly, "But he still has the part of you that I want. And I'm afraid you'll give it back to him."
Eyana looked away. Her fingers curled at her sides.
She didn't even notice Avyansh's silhouette behind the tree, his fists clenched, jaw tight, eyes burning into the scene.
Avyansh's POV (Internal Monologue)
You want her to choose, Siddhartha?
What you don't know is—she already does. Every time she looks back when she walks away from me. Every time she hesitates before meeting your eyes.
He watched Eyana finally turn her face up to Siddhartha again, her expression unreadable.
But if you think I'm letting you rewrite her heart with half-truths and flowers...
You're dead wrong.
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