Everything was finally… working.
Not perfectly.
Not easily.
But steadily.
Aakrati, Krish, and Shrisha were building something real—project by project, client by client. Their name had started circulating in the industry. Small recognition at first, then bigger conversations.
Late nights, early mornings, constant hustle—
But this time, it felt worth it.
Aakrati had changed too.
She smiled more now.
Focused more.
Spoke less about feelings, more about ideas.
And most importantly—
She didn't look back.
On the other side of the city—
Arsh had done exactly what he always did.
He worked.
Stayed at Siddharth's place.
Kept himself busy.
Avoided thinking too much.
Or at least—
That's what it looked like.
Siddharth noticed it though.
"You're too calm," he said one evening, watching Arsh scroll through his laptop.
Arsh didn't look up. "That's a problem?"
"It is when you're pretending," Siddharth replied casually.
Arsh ignored that.
So Siddharth changed the approach.
"Let's go out."
"No."
"Club."
"No."
"Drinks."
"No."
Siddharth sighed dramatically. "You're becoming boring."
A pause.
Then—
"Fine."
Arsh closed his laptop.
"Let's go."
The club was loud.
Music heavy. Lights flashing. People everywhere.
Exactly the kind of place Arsh usually didn't mind.
Tonight—
He felt nothing.
They walked in, found a spot.
Siddharth was already scanning the room, half-interested in who was there.
Arsh wasn't.
Until—
He saw her.
Aakrati.
Standing near the bar.
With Krish.
And Shrisha.
For a second—
Everything else blurred.
The music faded.
The noise disappeared.
It was just—
Her.
She looked… different.
Not in appearance.
But in presence.
Confident.
At ease.
Like she belonged exactly where she was.
Shrisha was laughing loudly about something.
"Birthday behavior," she said, raising her drink dramatically.
Krish rolled his eyes. "You've been saying that for the last hour."
"It's my birthday week," she corrected.
Aakrati laughed softly.
That laugh—
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Arsh's jaw tightened slightly.
Siddharth followed his gaze.
And then—
"Oh."
A pause.
"Well… this just got interesting."
Arsh didn't respond.
His eyes stayed fixed.
On one thing.
Krish.
Standing a little too close.
Leaning in when he spoke.
Aakrati listening.
Smiling.
Comfortable.
Something sharp twisted inside him.
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
Jealousy.
He looked away instantly.
Annoyed.
At himself more than anything.
"This is stupid," he muttered.
Siddharth smirked. "Is it though?"
"It is," Arsh said flatly.
"Then why are you still looking?"
That—
Had no answer.
Across the room—
Aakrati hadn't noticed him yet.
She was busy arguing with Shrisha about something completely random.
"You can't just extend your birthday like that," she said.
"Watch me," Shrisha replied confidently.
Krish laughed. "I support this."
"Of course you do," Aakrati shot back.
And then—
Her eyes shifted.
Accidentally.
Carelessly.
And landed—
On him.
Time paused.
Again.
Arsh didn't move.
Didn't look away this time.
Their eyes met.
Held.
A hundred things passed in that one second.
Unsaid.
Unresolved.
Unforgotten.
Aakrati's smile faded.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Krish noticed the shift instantly.
"What happened?" he asked, following her gaze.
And then—
He saw him too.
Silence settled for a moment.
Even in the middle of all that noise.
Shrisha turned next.
"Oh—"
Her tone dropped slightly.
"Didn't expect this."
Aakrati looked away first.
Breaking it.
Just like she had before.
But this time—
It felt harder.
Arsh exhaled slowly.
His fingers tightening around his glass.
That same thought—
Louder now.
Clearer.
Unavoidable.
He didn't like this.
Not one bit.
And the worst part?
He didn't even want to admit why.
Arsh looked at them again.
Aakrati.
Krish.
Standing close. Talking easily. Laughing like nothing had ever been broken.
And this time—
He didn't question it.
He assumed.
They're together.
The thought came fast. Sharp. Final.
And once it settled—
It didn't leave.
His grip tightened around the glass in his hand.
Of course.
It made sense.
Krish had always been there.
Steady. Available. Easy.
Everything Arsh wasn't.
A bitter scoff escaped him under his breath.
"Congratulations," he muttered to himself.
Siddharth glanced at him. "You wanna pretend you don't care, or…?"
"I don't," Arsh cut in immediately.
Too quickly.
Siddharth raised an eyebrow but didn't push.
Because even he could see—
That wasn't true.
Across the room—
Aakrati tried to focus on Shrisha, who was still in full "birthday mode."
"…and I'm telling you, this counts as day three," Shrisha insisted.
Krish laughed. "You've invented your own calendar at this point."
But Aakrati—
Wasn't really there.
She could feel it.
That presence.
That gaze.
Even without looking.
Krish noticed.
He leaned slightly closer. "You okay?"
She nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just… a little tired."
A lie.
A weak one.
But he didn't call it out.
"Let's get some air?" he suggested.
Aakrati hesitated for half a second—
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
From where he stood—
Arsh saw that.
Saw Krish lean in.
Saw Aakrati agree.
Saw them walk out together.
Alone.
That was it.
Something in him snapped.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Enough to make him move.
"I'll be back," he said, already stepping away.
Siddharth didn't stop him this time.
Outside—
The music was distant.
The air cooler.
Quieter.
Aakrati stood near the railing, her hands resting lightly against it, trying to steady herself.
Krish stood beside her.
Not too close.
Just there.
"You don't have to pretend with me," he said gently.
That almost broke her.
Almost.
"I'm not pretending," she replied softly.
Krish looked at her.
Didn't argue.
Just nodded.
"Okay."
Before the silence could settle—
A voice cut through.
"Convenient."
Both of them turned.
Arsh.
Standing a few steps away.
Expression unreadable.
But his eyes—
Not calm.
Not this time.
Aakrati straightened slightly.
Krish's posture shifted too.
Subtle.
Protective.
Arsh noticed that.
Of course he did.
His gaze flickered between them.
Then back to Aakrati.
"So this is why."
A small pause.
"Now it makes sense."
Aakrati frowned slightly. "What does?"
He let out a dry laugh.
"This," he gestured between her and Krish. "You. Him. The sudden 'I don't want this anymore.'"
Her expression hardened.
"You're assuming things."
"Am I?" he stepped a little closer. "Or is this exactly what it looks like?"
Krish spoke this time, calm but firm.
"Maybe you should—"
"This doesn't concern you," Arsh cut him off sharply, without even looking at him.
That—
Shifted something.
Krish didn't react aggressively.
But he didn't step back either.
"It does if you're talking to her like this."
Silence.
Tight.
Charged.
Arsh's jaw clenched.
"There it is," he muttered. "Perfect."
Aakrati's patience snapped slightly.
"Enough, Arsh."
He looked at her again.
"Tell me I'm wrong then."
A pause.
"Tell me you're not with him."
The question hung there.
Heavy.
Direct.
Unavoidable.
Aakrati's breath caught.
For a second—
She didn't answer.
And that second—
Was enough for him.
Arsh let out a quiet, bitter exhale.
"Right."
He nodded once.
Like something had just been confirmed.
Even if it hadn't.
"Aakrati," Krish said softly, sensing the shift.
But she didn't look at him.
Her eyes stayed on Arsh.
Because this—
Was going wrong.
Fast.
"You don't get to question me like this," she said finally. "Not anymore."
"I don't need to," he replied. "I can see it."
"That's your problem," she shot back. "You see what you want to see."
Another pause.
Then quieter—
"You always did."
That hit deeper than she intended.
Or maybe—
Exactly as much as she intended.
Arsh went still.
Something in his expression changed.
Hurt?
Maybe.
But it disappeared just as quickly.
Replaced by something colder.
"Good," he said.
A small nod.
"If this is what you wanted—"
His eyes flicked once more toward Krish.
"You've got it."
And just like that—
He stepped back.
Turning away.
This time—
He didn't wait.
Didn't pause.
Didn't look back.
Aakrati stood there.
Breathing unevenly.
Frustration mixing with something deeper.
Something heavier.
Krish glanced at her.
"You wanna go?" he asked quietly.
She nodded.
Inside—
The music was still loud.
Shrisha was still celebrating.
The world—
Was still moving.
But for both of them—
Something had shifted again.
Not ended.
Not resolved.
Just—
Complicated.
Even more than before.