The air between them felt heavy, like something was about to break.
"Meera… please," Rohan said, leaning forward, his voice almost desperate now. "Just tell me there's still something left. Anything. I'll fix everything, I swear. I've changed. I know I have."
Meera's gaze didn't waver, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes.
"I believe you've changed, Rohan," she said softly. "But that doesn't mean I still feel the same."
His jaw tightened. "So what, feelings just disappear? After everything we had?"
"They don't disappear overnight," she replied. "They fade… when things break beyond repair."
A sharp breath escaped him. "Then let me repair it! Why won't you even try?"
She hesitated—just for a second—but it was enough.
"Because I don't love you anymore," she said.
The words hit harder this time.
Rohan let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head like he refused to accept it. "No. No, you're just saying that. You're confused. You're hurt. That's all."
"I'm not confused," she said, more firmly now. "I'm just being honest."
"Honest?" he snapped, his voice rising. A couple of people nearby glanced over. "You call this honest? You just throw away everything like it meant nothing?"
"It didn't mean nothing," she said, her voice trembling slightly now. "But it's not my present anymore."
"Then what is?" he demanded, almost challengingly.
She took a breath.
"I love Harsh."
Silence.
For a split second, it looked like Rohan didn't understand what she'd said.
Then his expression changed—shock, then disbelief, then something sharper.
"…You're joking."
"I'm not."
He stood up so abruptly the chair screeched loudly against the floor.
"So that's it?" he said, his voice louder now, anger spilling over. "You just move on to someone else while I'm here trying to fix what you gave up on?"
"I didn't give up, Rohan," she said, standing too now, trying to keep her composure. "I stayed until there was nothing left to hold on to."
"That's not true!" he shot back. "You didn't even fight for us!"
"I did," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "You just didn't notice."
That only seemed to make him more frustrated.
"Oh, so now it's my fault completely, right?" he said bitterly. "Great. Amazing. You get to walk away clean, and I'm the villain."
"That's not what I'm saying—"
"Then what are you saying?" he interrupted sharply. "Because all I hear is that I wasn't enough—and now suddenly he is?"
Meera flinched at the edge in his voice.
"This isn't about comparing you," she said quietly. "It's about how I feel."
"Yeah?" he laughed harshly. "Well, your feelings seem to change pretty easily."
That landed. She went silent.
For a moment, they just stood there—both hurt, both angry, neither willing to step back.
Rohan ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily, like he was trying to steady himself but couldn't.
"You know what?" he said finally, his voice cold now. "Forget it."
"Rohan—"
"No," he cut her off, shaking his head. "I'm done begging. If you can just… stop loving me like that, then maybe I never mattered as much as I thought."
"That's not true," she said, but it came out weaker than she intended.
He didn't respond.
Instead, he just looked at her one last time—hurt flashing through his anger—before turning sharply.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He walked out, faster than before, pushing the door open with more force than necessary.
The bell above it rang loudly as it shut behind him.
Meera stood there, frozen, the noise echoing longer than it should have.
And even though she didn't call him back… her eyes lingered on the door.
The door slammed shut behind Rohan, the sound echoing louder in his head than it actually was.
For a few seconds, he just stood there outside the café, breathing hard, like the air wasn't enough.
People passed by him, cars moved, life went on—but everything around him felt distant, blurred.
"…I didn't matter?" he muttered under his breath, almost like he was arguing with himself.
He started walking.
Fast.
Not really looking where he was going—just moving, like if he stopped, everything would crash down at once.
His hands curled into fists, then loosened, then clenched again.
"I came back," he said under his breath, frustration spilling out. "I tried. I actually tried."
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"And she's in love with someone else."
The words tasted bitter.
He kicked a small stone on the road without thinking, sending it skidding far ahead.
For a moment, anger took over again.
"Fine," he muttered. "Stay with him. See if he's so perfect."
But the anger didn't last.
It cracked—fast.
His steps slowed.
Because beneath it… was something heavier.
He stopped walking altogether, standing at the edge of the road, staring at nothing.
"She really meant it," he whispered, the realization finally settling in. "She doesn't love me anymore."
That hit differently.
Not like anger.
Not like frustration.
Just… empty.
He ran a hand over his face, exhaling shakily, his shoulders dropping like he was too tired to hold himself up anymore.
For the first time since he left—
he didn't look angry.
He just looked… lost.
After a moment, he pulled out his phone, staring at her contact.
His thumb hovered over her name.
Call.
Message.
Anything.
But he didn't press anything.
Instead, he locked the screen.
"…What's the point?" he murmured.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and started walking again—
slower this time.
Not running from the pain anymore.
Just carrying it.
Meera sat on the edge of her bed, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone, though she wasn't really seeing anything on the screen.
Her mind kept drifting back… to the café. To Rohan's face when she said those words.
A message popped up.
Harsh:Hey, what's up? You've been quiet today.
She stared at it for a second before typing back.
Meera:Nothing, not really.
Almost instantly, her phone buzzed.
Harsh:Hmm. That doesn't sound like "nothing." What's bothering you?
She smiled faintly, shaking her head.
Meera:It's okay, really.
Another reply.
Harsh:You know you can tell me everything, right?
Her expression softened a little more.
Meera:Of course, I know that, babe.
There was a pause.
Then she typed again.
Meera:Wanna meet at the park today?
The park was calm, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over everything.
Harsh was already there, sitting on a bench, casually tossing a small pebble in the air and catching it.
He looked up as Meera approached—and immediately smiled.
"There you are."
She sat down beside him, letting out a small breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Harsh nudged her lightly. "So… 'nothing, not really,' huh?"
Meera gave a small, sheepish smile. "I didn't want to dump it all on text."
"I figured," he said gently. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
She looked at him, studying his face—calm, patient, no pressure.
"I just… had to deal with something from the past," she admitted quietly.
Harsh didn't interrupt.
Didn't push.
He just nodded. "Okay."
That was it.
No questions. No tension.
And somehow, that made her feel lighter.
Before she could say anything else, a familiar voice cut in—
"Didi!"
Meera turned.
Her little brother came running toward them, slightly out of breath, eyes full of curiosity. "I saw you from there! Who is this?"
Meera blinked, a little caught off guard. "Oh—uh—this is—"
Harsh stood up before she could finish, a friendly grin already on his face.
"Hey," he said, crouching slightly to meet him at eye level. "I'm Harsh. And you must be the famous little brother I've heard absolutely nothing about."
The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously for a second… then smiled. "I'm not that little."
Harsh raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, my mistake. You look like someone important."
That earned him a grin.
"I am important," the boy said proudly, then glanced at Meera. "Didi, is he your friend?"
Meera hesitated for a split second.
Before she could answer, Harsh said lightly, "I'm hoping I'm more than just a friend."
The boy's eyes widened. "Ohhh."
Meera felt her cheeks warm. "Stop it," she muttered, but there was a smile she couldn't hide.
Harsh chuckled and sat back down, patting the space next to him. "You wanna sit with us?"
The boy nodded quickly and squeezed in between them, immediately launching into random stories about school, cricket, and his "very unfair" teacher.
Harsh listened like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Asking questions.
Reacting dramatically.
Even pretending to be shocked at the smallest things.
Meera watched quietly.
The way Harsh laughed with him.
The way he didn't try too hard—but still made her brother feel seen.
Respected.
Happy.
And something inside her softened.
This… felt easy.
Real.
Warm.
Her brother tugged on Harsh's sleeve. "You should come play cricket with us someday. I'm the best player."
Harsh gasped. "The best? Then I definitely need to see this."
"I'll win," the boy said confidently.
Harsh leaned in, lowering his voice like it was a secret. "I'll be on your team."
"Deal."
They shook hands dramatically.
Meera let out a small laugh, shaking her head.
And for the first time that day—
the heaviness in her chest didn't feel so heavy anymore.
The house was quieter than usual.
Meera sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands tightly clasped together. The moment her little brother had disappeared into his room, the lightness from the park faded.
Harsh noticed immediately.
He sat down beside her, his voice softer now. "Okay… what really happened today?"
Meera didn't answer right away.
She just stared at the floor.
Then, slowly—"I met Rohan."
Harsh's expression changed. Not dramatically—but enough.
"…Oh."
"He wanted to get back together," she continued, her voice unsteady now. "He said he's changed. That he's never loved anyone like me before."
Harsh's jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet.
"I told him the truth," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "That I don't love him anymore. That I… love you."
Harsh looked at her then—really looked at her.
"And?"
"He didn't take it well," she whispered. "He was angry… hurt… I don't know. He said things. I said things. It just…" She shook her head. "It got messy."
Her eyes filled before she could stop it.
"I didn't want to hurt him like that," she said, tears slipping down now. "But I couldn't lie either."
That was enough.
Harsh pulled her gently closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Hey… hey," he murmured. "You did the right thing."
She shook her head against him. "It didn't feel right."
"It never does," he said quietly. "But that doesn't mean it was wrong."
She leaned into him, finally letting herself cry properly, her face pressed against his shoulder.
Harsh held her, one hand gently resting on her head, his expression now much darker than before.
Not at her.
At Rohan.
"He had no right to make you feel like that," he muttered under his breath.
Later that evening.
The streetlights had just come on, casting long shadows across the road.
Harsh walked quickly, his mind replaying everything Meera had said.
Every word.
Every tear.
And then—
He saw him.
Rohan.
Standing near the corner, lost in his own thoughts.
Harsh stopped.
For a second, he could've just walked away.
But he didn't.
"Rohan."
Rohan looked up, surprised. "Who—"
Recognition hit.
"Oh," he said, his tone instantly sharpening. "So you're him."
Harsh stepped closer, his expression hard. "You think it's okay to corner her and make her cry like that?"
Rohan let out a bitter laugh. "She told you that, huh?"
"I don't need a story," Harsh said. "I saw her."
Something in Rohan snapped.
"Yeah? And what did she tell you?" he shot back. "That she moved on? That she's in love with you now?"
"That's the truth," Harsh said firmly.
Rohan shook his head, anger rising fast. "No. The truth is—you came in between."
"That's not how it works," Harsh replied, his voice low but controlled. "She made her choice."
"Oh, of course you'd say that," Rohan scoffed. "Easy for you. You got everything without losing anything."
Harsh took a step closer. "Watch what you're saying."
"Or what?" Rohan challenged, stepping forward too. "You'll hit me?"
There was a split second of silence—
Then it happened.
A shove.
Hard.
Rohan staggered back, then immediately pushed Harsh in return.
"What's your problem?" Harsh snapped.
"You took her away from me!" Rohan shot back, his voice filled with anger and hurt.
"I didn't take anything!" Harsh yelled. "She left because of you!"
That hit.
And Rohan swung.
It wasn't clean or controlled—just pure emotion.
Harsh took the hit, then pushed him back again, harder this time.
They struggled, grabbing at each other, anger spilling over into something physical—but messy, uncontrolled, more about hurt than strength.
"Stop acting like a victim!" Harsh said, breathing heavily.
"You don't know anything!" Rohan snapped, trying to shove him again.
A couple of people nearby started noticing now.
"Hey! Enough!" someone shouted from a distance.
But neither of them listened immediately.
For a moment, it felt like neither of them even cared about the other—
They were just fighting everything they felt.
Finally, Harsh stepped back first, breathing hard, running a hand through his hair.
"This is pointless," he said, his voice still sharp but less explosive. "You're angry at the wrong person."
Rohan didn't reply.
He just stood there, equally shaken, equally furious.
"Stay away from her," Harsh added, more quietly now—but firmly.
Rohan laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it.
"…Like I have a choice anymore."
Silence fell between them.
Heavy.
Unresolved.
And this time—
Neither of them said anything else.
The dim yellow light of the streetlamp flickered as Rohan sat on the low boundary wall outside his building.
He winced slightly, touching his lip.
A small cut.
Still fresh.
Still stinging.
"Damn," a voice came from behind.
Rohan didn't turn.
"Bro… look who got beat up."
Kaiser walked into view, hands in his pockets, half-smirking as he took in Rohan's messed-up state.
Rohan shot him a sharp look. "Shut up."
Kaiser raised his hands lightly. "Okay, okay. Relax."
But Rohan wasn't in the mood.
"Does it look funny to you?" he snapped, standing up suddenly.
Kaiser's expression shifted, but before he could respond—
Rohan shoved him.
Not too hard, but enough to show he meant it.
"Whoa, hey!" Kaiser stepped back, surprised. "Chill, man."
"Don't," Rohan said, his voice tight. "Just don't."
For a second, it looked like Kaiser might react—but instead, he exhaled and shook his head.
"Alright. Got it. Bad day."
Rohan let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "You have no idea."
Kaiser studied him for a moment, then said more casually, "Fight?"
Rohan didn't answer directly.
But the silence said enough.
Kaiser nodded slowly. "Girl?"
That got a reaction.
Rohan scoffed, looking away. "Yeah. Of course."
Kaiser leaned against the wall beside him. "Ex?"
Rohan clenched his jaw. "…Yeah."
"Ah," Kaiser said, like it all clicked. "And the new guy?"
Rohan's expression darkened instantly.
"Don't," he said again, quieter this time—but heavier.
Kaiser held up his hands. "Alright, alright. I get it."
A pause.
Then, with a slight grin—"Good thing there's a party tonight."
Rohan frowned slightly. "What?"
"Yeah," Kaiser said. "A proper one. Music, people, distractions… exactly what you need."
Rohan looked down for a second, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb.
His mind flickered—Meera's voice, her face, her words.
I love Harsh.
His jaw tightened again.
"…Yeah," he muttered.
Kaiser smirked. "Yeah?"
Rohan nodded once, sharper this time. "For sure."
Kaiser grinned wider. "That's my guy."
Rohan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the heaviness in his chest.
"Yeah," he repeated, quieter now. "Something to take my mind off it."
But even as he said it—
It didn't really leave.
It just… sat there.
Waiting.
The music was loud, bass thumping through the crowded room, lights flashing in uneven rhythms.
People laughed, shouted, danced—everyone lost in their own little world.
Aryan lounged on one of the couches with a few guys around him, a drink in his hand, completely at ease.
Beside him, Kitty scrolled through her phone, only half paying attention to the conversation.
Rohan sat a little apart, leaning back, his expression distant. The cut on his lip was still visible, a dull reminder of earlier.
Kaiser stood nearby, talking to someone else, clearly not invested in whatever was happening here.
Sam, however, was very invested.
"Bro, I'm just saying," Sam said, leaning forward with a smirk, "Meera always acted like she was so different… but come on."
Aryan chuckled lightly. "What now?"
Sam shrugged. "You know… like she's all sweet and emotional, but girls like that? Easy to influence. Not that complicated."
Kitty's scrolling slowed.
Sam continued, getting more careless, "And honestly, she's not even that smart. Just… acts like it."
Aryan laughed louder this time, clearly entertained.
"Yeah, yeah, I get what you mean," he said.
Rohan didn't say anything.
He just stared ahead, jaw tight—but silent.
Kaiser glanced once… then looked away again, uninterested.
Kitty lowered her phone completely now, her expression shifting.
"Are you serious right now?" she said, her voice cutting through the noise around them.
The group paused.
Aryan looked at her. "What?"
"You're just going to sit here and laugh?" Kitty said, disbelief clear in her tone. "They're talking about Meera like that."
Aryan shrugged casually. "Relax, it's just talk."
"Just talk?" Kitty repeated. "She's my best friend."
Sam rolled his eyes. "We're not saying anything that serious—"
"It is serious," Kitty snapped, standing up now. "You don't get to talk about her like she's some joke."
There was a shift in the energy.
Aryan sighed, like this was becoming unnecessary drama. "Kitty, don't overreact."
"I'm not overreacting," she shot back. "You're underreacting."
Her eyes flicked to Rohan for a second.
"And you," she said, sharper now. "You're just going to sit there?"
Rohan's gaze lifted slowly.
For a moment, it looked like he might say something.
His jaw tightened again.
But he didn't.
Kitty shook her head, disappointment clear. "Wow."
That one word hit heavier than anything else.
"You of all people should've said something," she added, quieter—but harsher.
Rohan looked away.
Aryan leaned back, trying to brush it off. "Okay, this is getting too intense for no reason—"
"No," Kitty cut him off. "There is a reason. You just don't care."
She grabbed her bag, clearly done.
"Next time, try having some respect," she said, looking directly at Aryan.
Then she turned and walked away.
The group fell silent for a moment after she left.
Sam muttered, "Damn, she got serious."
Aryan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well… she'll cool off."
No one laughed this time.
Kaiser stayed quiet.
And Rohan—
He just sat there, staring at the floor.
Because out of everything said that night—
Kitty's disappointment… lingered the most.
The music swelled again, filling the silence Kitty had left behind—but something about the group felt… off now.
Still, Sam didn't drop it.
He leaned back, swirling his drink casually. "I mean, come on," he said, like he was just continuing a harmless conversation. "No one's denying she's good-looking."
Aryan smirked faintly. "That's not exactly a hot take."
Sam shrugged. "Exactly my point. That's kind of her whole thing, isn't it?"
Rohan's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the couch.
Sam went on, more careless now, "Like, sure—nice face, nice presence… people fall for that stuff easily."
Aryan gave a half-laugh, not really thinking about it.
Across the room, Kaiser was mid-conversation with Natasha, leaning casually against the wall. He let out a small chuckle at something she said—but his attention flickered back for a second.
He heard enough.
But didn't step in.
Sam tilted his head, continuing, "I'm just saying, some people get by on charm and looks. That's how it works."
There was a pause.
Not agreement exactly.
But no one stopped him either.
That silence said enough.
Rohan shifted slightly, his jaw tightening again. His mind flashed—Meera sitting across from him, calm but firm… "I'm just being honest."
Something about the way Sam was talking didn't sit right.
But the words wouldn't come out.
Aryan stretched, trying to keep things light. "Bro, you think too much."
Sam laughed. "Nah, I just notice things."
Kaiser glanced over again briefly, then went back to Natasha, like it wasn't worth getting into.
The conversation moved on—half-heartedly, awkwardly—but the tone had already changed.
Because even if no one said it out loud—
something about what was said…
didn't feel right.
And the fact that no one really stopped it—
felt worse.