Chapter 3
The first rehearsal was exactly what Aria expected.
A mess.
They stood in an empty corner of the wedding hall, far from the noise but not far enough to escape it completely. Music played from Arav's phone, loud enough to fill the awkward silence between them.
"So," Arav said, scrolling through a playlist, "we need something with impact."
Aria adjusted her dupatta.
"Something emotional would be better."
He looked up.
"Emotional doesn't always mean memorable."
"And loud doesn't always mean meaningful," she replied.
The music started.
They tried.
And failed.
Their steps didn't match.
Their timing was off.
Every movement felt forced, like they were walking in opposite directions without actually moving.
"Wait," Arav stopped the music. "You're stepping too early."
Aria frowned.
"No, you're rushing."
"I'm following the beat."
"And I'm following the feeling," she said.
He let out a breath, clearly annoyed.
"This isn't poetry," he said. "It's a performance."
Her patience cracked.
"And it's not a competition," Aria snapped. "We're supposed to do this together."
They tried again.
Still wrong.
Still awkward.
Still uncomfortable.
Finally, Aria stepped back.
"This won't work," she said quietly.
Arav looked at her, jaw tight.
"It will," he replied, "if we stop taking everything personally."
The words hurt more than they should have.
She picked up her bag.
"Then maybe you should practice alone."
Without waiting for an answer, she walked away.
Arav stood there, staring at the paused music on his phone. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.
Great start, he thought.
Outside, Aria stopped for a moment.
She hated that her eyes burned—not with tears, but with frustration.
This was only the first day.
And already, five days felt impossible