The first thing Aarohi noticed when she woke was the cold. The hotel room was still draped in shadows, heavy curtains blocking out the early light. The taste of last night clung to her mouth — bitter, unfamiliar, laced with something she didn't want to name. The air smelled faintly of whiskey, expensive cologne, and something darker beneath it.
She sat up slowly, the ache in her body making her wince. The sheets were tangled around her legs, and for a moment, her memory struggled to catch up with her. Then it came — in fragments, like pieces of a broken mirror.
The bar.
The stranger.
His eyes.
His voice, smooth as silk, sharp as glass.
The way he'd written her name.
Aarohi.
A shiver skated down her spine.
She didn't remember falling asleep. Didn't remember when he left. Only the eerie silence when she opened her eyes.
Gathering what little dignity she had left, Aarohi grabbed her phone, checked the time — late enough to be dangerous — and slipped out of the hotel room like a thief. The hallway was empty, the distant hum of the elevator the only sound. She didn't look back.
The sunlight outside hit her like a slap. She hailed a cab, gave her apartment address in a cracked voice, and leaned her head against the window. The city blurred past, indifferent to her shame.
By the time she reached home, she had less than two hours before the graduation ceremony.
The black dress she'd picked out months ago hung by the closet, a tag still clinging to its neckline. She slipped into it wordlessly, not caring about the makeup smeared beneath her eyes or the pale color of her face. The mirror reflected a stranger. She didn't bother fixing it.
As she brushed through the tangled mess of her hair, her thoughts slipped backward — the strange, almost surreal way her life had unfolded over the last two years.
She hadn't planned on this college. In fact, it wasn't even on her list. She'd applied to universities in other cities, bigger, newer places where no one knew her name or her past. She remembered the rejection emails stacking up one by one, until she stopped opening them.
Then one day, an acceptance letter arrived. A full scholarship. No interview. No warning. Just a neatly typed letter with her name on it and a date for orientation.
Back then, life hadn't been kind. Her mother juggled three jobs just to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Aarohi grew up counting every rupee, learning early how to pretend her stomach wasn't growling when there wasn't enough for both of them. Her father… he was a memory she barely spoke of. Locked away in a mental hospital since last year, a ghost tethered to a hospital bed she stopped visiting months ago. Some wounds healed with time; others you simply learned to step around.
So when that acceptance letter arrived — a full scholarship, no interview, no warning — she hadn't questioned it. When life tossed you a lifeline, you didn't stop to check if it was frayed.
And yet, sometimes in the quiet moments between dusk and dark, she wondered how it had happened. Why this college. Why this city.
She pushed the thought aside, shoving her feet into cheap heels and grabbing her keys. The ceremony wasn't going to wait for her.
The campus courtyard buzzed with students in black robes, parents holding bouquets, professors pretending to remember names. Laughter and chatter filled the warm air. It should have felt like an ending. Instead, it felt like a staging ground, as though something else waited just beyond the horizon.
Aarohi didn't see Mia right away. She navigated through clusters of faces she half-recognized from lectures and library tables. Then, a familiar voice rang out above the noise.
"Aarohi! Over here, you beautiful, emotionally unavailable wreck!"
She turned to see Mia, grinning like she always did — bold, unapologetic, with that streak of recklessness Aarohi both envied and feared. Mia grabbed her in a crushing hug that smelled like cheap perfume and vanilla lipstick.
"You look like shit," Mia declared, stepping back to appraise her.
"Thanks. Good morning to you too," Aarohi muttered, her lips quirking despite herself.
"Rough night?"
Aarohi hesitated. Understatement of the century.
"You could say that."
Mia raised a brow, smirking. "If it didn't involve handcuffs or tequila, I don't wanna hear about it."
Aarohi forced a weak laugh. "If only you knew."
They made their way to the seats reserved for graduates, settling in just as the speeches began. The dean droned about courage and resilience, about chasing dreams and building futures. Aarohi barely listened.
Her gaze drifted across the courtyard, to the heavy iron gates of the college, and beyond to the towering skyline. She'd tried to leave this city once. More than once, actually. Job offers in other cities that vanished before the ink dried on her acceptance letters. Apartments she almost secured, only to have the deals fall through at the last minute. Interviews mysteriously canceled.
At first, she blamed bad luck. Later, she wondered if it was karma for the things she wished for her father.
But it wasn't until recently that a new suspicion crept in. A feeling that maybe — just maybe — she was never meant to leave.
That something was keeping her here.
She shook the thought off as her name was called. Aarohi stood, collecting the rolled-up certificate that meant far less to her than it should. The applause blurred into background noise.
The ceremony ended in a flurry of cheers, caps flung skyward like desperate prayers. Students hugged their families. Cameras flashed. It should have felt like a release.
It didn't.
Afterward, Mia dragged her toward the reception table for punch and dry sandwiches.
"To new beginnings," Mia declared, raising a plastic cup.
Aarohi clinked her cup against it without enthusiasm. The sugary drink made her stomach churn.
"Actually," Mia began, lowering her voice in mock secrecy, "I have news."
Aarohi arched a brow. "Yeah?"
"Job offer. Got the call this morning."
Aarohi blinked. "Already? From where?"
"You'll never believe it. Same firm you interviewed with last week."
A sudden coldness spread in Aarohi's chest. "But… they told me the position was filled."
Mia's grin faltered. "Weird. I mean, maybe they had two spots? Or maybe the other person backed out. I dunno."
Aarohi's fingers tightened around her cup. It wasn't the first time something like this happened. A job she thought was hers, disappearing without explanation. Opportunities slipping through her fingers like sand.
But Mia getting the exact same offer from the same company, the timing of it — it felt too sharp, too deliberate.
Still, she forced a smile. "Congrats. I'm happy for you."
And she meant it. Even if part of her wanted to scream.
By evening, she was back at her apartment, the sunset bleeding orange and gold across the walls. She started packing, emptying drawers into cardboard boxes. It wasn't much. Some books, a battered old photo frame, the dress she would probably never wear again.
At the bottom of one drawer, she found an old photo of her and Karan from a festival last year. Smiling like idiots under fairy lights, his arm slung around her shoulders. A life that felt borrowed now.
She stared at it for a long moment before tearing it in half. The sound was louder than expected in the quiet room.
Some things didn't deserve to be carried forward.
As night fell, Aarohi stepped onto her tiny balcony. The city stretched before her, indifferent and alive, neon lights flickering like restless ghosts. She leaned against the railing, the air thick with the scent of rain on asphalt.
And for the first time in weeks, she felt… lighter.
Not happy. Not healed. But ready.
Ready to stop chasing things that didn't want her. Ready to stop believing in closure. Maybe life wasn't about neatly tied endings. Maybe it was about surviving the mess.
Her phone buzzed on the table behind her. A message from the new job's HR contact confirming her orientation date.
Aarohi's lips curved.
New job. New apartment. New chapter.
Karan was a ghost she'd buried. Vish… well, she didn't know what he was. A shadow. A mistake. A stranger who knew her name.
But the thread of unease remained, a whisper beneath the skin.
She didn't know how the pieces fit. Not yet.
But one day, she would.
And when that day came — when she finally saw the whole picture — she wasn't sure if she'd laugh at the cruel joke the universe played on her.
Or burn the world down for it.