"Oh, don't be shy," Nikhil teased, his tone half-mocking, half-curious.
"It's your moment! Don't you want to be like them?"
"Like them?" For a moment, my whole body went numb.
Aryan looked around the hall, scanning the crowd. "Hmm… looks like no one here's brave enough," he said playfully, grinning. "Come on, there has to be someone who can perform."
"She's a singer!" a girl suddenly shouted, pointing toward Kiara.
"Hey, stop!" Kiara said quickly, her eyes wide. She looked at the girl nervously, shaking her head.
But her friend kept nudging her. "Come on, Kiara! Don't be shy!"
Aryan smiled, stepping closer to the edge of the stage. "Oh? A singer, huh? Then we definitely need to hear her."
"Yes, yes!" Priya chimed in, grinning. "Let's give her a big hand, everyone!"
The crowd started clapping and cheering, some chanting her name. Kiara's face flushed pink as she slowly stood up, her hands trembling slightly.
"I… I really don't—" she began, but it was too late — her friends were already pushing her toward the stage.
The hall fell silent as Kiara stepped up to the microphone. The lights dimmed slightly, a soft blue glow falling over her. She looked nervous — her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, her breathing shallow.
Aryan smiled encouragingly.
"Take your time," he said gently. "You've got this."
She nodded, closed her eyes, and the first notes of "Dil Besabar" began — that gentle, haunting instrumental that everyone seemed to recognize.
The crowd leaned forward.
Kiara took a breath and began to sing.
> "Dil besabar sa hai,
Dil pe yaqeen nahi…"
"Chaand bhi sharmaye,
Jab tu kare baat meri…"
Her voice floated through the hall — delicate, trembling but beautiful. For those few seconds, the noise of the world vanished. Even Roneet forgot to breathe.
The way she sang, it wasn't just performance — it was feeling. A mix of pain, hope, and something unspoken.
But halfway through the next line, her voice cracked. She coughed softly, pressing her hand to her throat.
"I… I'm sorry," she whispered into the mic, her tone breaking. "My throat's not okay today. I can't continue."
A hush spread through the hall.
Aryan immediately stepped closer, concern in his eyes.
"It's okay, Kiara," he said kindly. "You were wonderful — even for half the song."
Priya nodded beside him, smiling warmly. "Seriously! That was beautiful."
The crowd began to clap — gently at first, then louder, the applause echoing across the hall. Kiara smiled faintly, a little embarrassed, and stepped back from the stage.
As she walked past the rows, Roneet couldn't take his eyes off her.
Her voice still echoed inside his chest — unfinished, but unforgettable.
Even when she stopped singing, he thought, it still felt like the song didn't end.
Aryan turned back to the crowd, lifting the mic again.
"Well," he said, smiling, "even half a song can touch hearts. Let's hear it one more time for Kiara Malhotra!"
The applause grew louder, mixed with whistles and cheers.
Kiara smiled shyly, waved once, and disappeared into the crowd.
The lights dimmed again.
And Roneet… sat still, lost somewhere between silence and sound.
"Kiara — my love," Nikhil crooned, pressing a theatrical hand to his chest, his eyes gooey with admiration. "That was beautiful. Soon enough you'll be singing only for me." He wore a leering, greasy grin that made the words sound like a claim.
Roneet's gaze hardened. A hot, sudden flare of anger burned in his chest; his jaw clenched and his hands tingled as if already holding a fist. I don't know why, but I feel like punching him in the face, he thought, breathing shallow and tight — and then forced himself to stay silent.
"Hey! What are you looking at?" Nikhil snapped, glaring at Roneet.
Roneet said nothing — his eyes fixed forward, his face blank.
"What's with that tone, bastard?" Nikhil growled, his voice rising.
"I think he likes her too," Arnav said with a mocking grin.
"Haha! Really?" Nikhil laughed harshly. "Don't worry, Roneet — after I'm done with her, you can have—"
Before he could finish, SMACK!
Roneet's fist crashed straight into Nikhil's face. The sound echoed through the hall.
Gasps filled the air as everyone turned to look.
"You motherf—" Nikhil roared, blood rushing to his face. He stood, furious, ready to swing back — but Arnav grabbed his arm.
"Stop it!" Arnav hissed, eyes sharp. "Sit down. Don't create a scene."
Nikhil glared at Roneet, breathing heavily, but finally sank back into his seat. His jaw was tight, his fists trembling with rage.
Arnav gave him a warning look. "He's our friend," he said quietly. "You can forgive him this once."
Nikhil said nothing, just muttered curses under his breath.
From the stage, Aryan's voice cut through the murmurs.
"What's going on back there?" he asked, scanning the crowd.
Arnav instantly smiled, waving it off. "Nothing, Aryan! They're just having some fun here."
Aryan frowned for a moment, then continued with the event, though the tension lingered in the air.
Roneet's heart pounded in his chest. His knuckles stung, but he didn't care.
For the first time that day, he didn't feel invisible.
Arnav stepped between Nikhil and me, palms up, trying to calm things.
"Hey, chill," he said smoothly, but Nikhil only gritted his teeth. "I'm going to kill him," he spat, and then swung — smacking me hard in the face in front of everyone.
I staggered back. Blood warmed my lip. Nikhil's chest heaved; he looked ready to throw another punch, but Arnav only smiled — an easy, unreadable smile.
"Well," Arnav said, as if nothing had happened, "I have an idea." He turned to us both. "How about the three of us go on stage?"
"What?" Nikhil barked.
"O-on stage?" I stammered; my voice felt thin.
Arnav raised an eyebrow. "Your voice was all shaky earlier, Roneet. But it wasn't when you hit him." He nodded once, casual. "I'll go first, then you, Nikhil. You'll follow."
Nikhil frowned. "Me?"
Arnav pointed at Roneet. "You'll be after him."
I didn't say anything. The room buzzed.
"For friendship," Arnav added, flat and final, "we do this together. Anyone who doesn't go up won't be my friend — and that'd be bad news for them."
Arnav raised his hand high.
From the stage, Aryan noticed. "Oh? Looks like we've got a volunteer," he said, grinning. Priya turned toward him, curious. "You want to perform?"
Arnav nodded with an easy smile. "Yeah. Mind if I try something?"
"Of course," Aryan said, handing him space near the front. "The stage is yours."
Arnav stepped forward. Without warning, he pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it aside. Gasps rippled through the hall. His physique gleamed under the lights — solid, sculpted, confident.
A slow grin spread across his face as he began a series of movements — controlled push-ups, quick handstands, and a few clean calisthenic transitions. The crowd stirred — half shocked, half impressed.
Priya blinked, stunned. "Well… that's definitely one way to get everyone's attention," she said into the mic, her tone half-teasing.
Aryan chuckled. "That's commitment. Give it up for our fearless fresher, everyone!"
Applause and laughter filled the hall as Arnav struck a final pose, then straightened, breathing steady — a predator who knew he had the room's eyes on him.
"Tch. This bastard's effortless," Nikhil muttered, his jaw tight as Arnav flexed under the stage lights.
Then his eyes shifted to Roneet. "Pathetic," he said coldly.
Roneet's stomach twisted. His pulse raced; he could feel every beat hammering in his chest. They're all watching… everyone's watching…
Before he could breathe, Aryan's voice cut through the noise. "Alright, who's next?"
Nikhil stood abruptly. "I'll go," he said, louder than he meant to. Arnav gave him a teasing smirk but stepped aside.
Nikhil climbed the stage, nerves hiding under fake confidence. For a second, he just stood there — until the music started playing from the speakers.
A rhythm he recognized.
Something clicked. He straightened his back, smirked, and started moving — a mix of a fashion walk and a few dance steps he remembered from YouTube tutorials. The crowd began to cheer; some girls even laughed, but not cruelly — he was actually doing better than he thought.
He spun once, landed the final pose with his hands spread out, and exhaled — a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Okayyy!" Priya said, clapping. "Confidence level: full marks!"
The crowd whistled and clapped. For a brief second, Nikhil basked in it — the attention, the approval.
Down below, Roneet watched, frozen. Now it's my turn, he thought, the words hitting like a cold wave.
Nikhil came back, breathing fast, a proud grin splitting his face.
"Did better than I thought," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. Then he turned to me. "Now it's your turn." His smirk widened.
"Yes," Arnav said softly — too softly. "Your turn, Roneet."
"N-no," I stammered. "I… I can't."
Arnav's eyes hardened. "What did you say?"
He stepped closer, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. "You're going. That was the deal. You were brave enough to punch him — now show that same courage on stage."
"My body's—" I swallowed, trembling. "I can't stop shaking."
Nikhil leaned forward, grinning. "Hear that? He's scared." Then, louder — "Come on, everyone! Say his name!"
A few voices joined in. "Roneet! Roneet!"
It spread like fire — row after row, voice after voice.
"RONEET! RONEET! RONEET!"
The hall shook with the chant. My chest tightened; the air felt too heavy to breathe.
On stage, Aryan shaded his eyes against the lights. "Looks like we've got someone special in the crowd," he said, grinning. "Roneet, right? Come on, man — let's see what you've got!"
Priya clapped, smiling warmly. "Come on, Roneet! Don't be shy!"
My legs wouldn't move. The floor felt like it was tilting.
They were all looking at me — hundreds of eyes. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, faster, louder, deafening.
Arnav leaned close, whispering with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"This is your chance to impress her," he said. "Don't worry — I'll help you from here. Just follow my lead."
He placed a hand on my back — firm, unyielding — and gave a gentle shove toward the stage.
And the crowd roared my name.
Roneet's legs moved on their own. Each step felt heavier than the last.
From somewhere behind him, he caught a girl's whisper.
"I thought it was someone special… disappointing."
Another voice — sharper, amused — "Look at his hair. Doesn't he ever cut it?"
Laughter.
And then, a boy murmured to his girlfriend, "Look at his clothes. He didn't even try."
The sound hit him harder than any punch. By the time he reached the stage, his confidence was already gone.
The lights were blinding. Faces blurred into a wall of noise. His palms were slick with sweat.
Do something, he told himself. Anything.
He tried to remember Arnav's movements — the easy grin, the way he had flexed and turned his shoulders like he owned the stage. Roneet took a shaky breath and tried to copy it.
The crowd went silent for a second. Then a few snickers broke out. Someone clapped mockingly.
He tried to pose again, to smile, but his hands were trembling too hard. His shirt stuck to his skin. His voice cracked when he tried to say something — the mic screeched. More laughter.
Roneet's throat closed. His vision blurred. He heard a few scattered voices —
"Is this part of the act?"
"Bro, stop… you're embarrassing yourself."
Every sound felt magnified, echoing inside his skull.
Arnav's voice came from below the stage, smooth and cold:
"Just follow me, remember?"
But when Roneet looked down, Arnav wasn't helping — he was laughing too.
That was the moment something inside him broke.
The crowd wasn't chanting his name anymore. Only the laughter stayed — light, cruel, endless.
He stepped back from the mic, wishing the floor would open and swallow him whole.
Priya's voice reached him through the noise.
"It's okay, Roneet. Don't listen to them. You can go."
Her tone was kind, but it only made the lump in his throat heavier.
He nodded quickly, head down, and turned to leave. His vision was watery now; the lights blurred together. He blinked hard, trying to hold it in.
A sound cut through the crowd — thud.
Something hit his shoulder. A plastic bottle rolled across the floor.
For a heartbeat, no one said anything. Then someone laughed. Another joined in. Soon it was everywhere again — laughter, whispers, footsteps shifting.
Roneet froze. He didn't look back.
His chest hurt — not like fear, but like something was caving in. Every sound around him felt distant and muffled, as if he were underwater.
He kept walking, faster now, until he reached the corridor outside.
His hands were shaking. He pressed them over his face, but the sound of the crowd still echoed in his ears.
He tried to breathe. He couldn't.
Then the first tear slipped through his fingers. And once it started, he couldn't stop it anymore.
He slid down the wall, knees pulled close, breath coming in short bursts. Not sobbing, not loud — just quiet, shaking, like his body was finally letting go of everything it had been holding.
Inside the hall, the music started again — another act, another round of cheers.
But for Roneet, the world had gone silent.