Nihal's POV
She smiled at me.
Bright. Unapologetic. The kind of smile that doesn't ask for permission.
And I looked away.
Not because I didn't see it.
Because I did.
Too clearly.
It caught me off guard—how warm it felt, how real. Like she wasn't clapping for the win, but for me. Like she saw something in me worth celebrating.
And I didn't know what to do with that.
So I adjusted my collar. Pretended I hadn't noticed. Focused on the certificate in my hand like it mattered more than the moment.
It didn't.
But I needed something to hold onto.
Because Meher's smile wasn't just kind. It was knowing. And I wasn't ready to be known.
She sees things. Always has. The way people shift when they're nervous. The way silence stretches when it's hiding something. The way I look at her when I think she's not looking.
And maybe that's why I avoided her gaze.
Because I knew if I met it, I'd give something away.
Something I've been holding too close for too long.
I like her.
I've known it for a while now. In the way her voice steadies me. In the way she listens without interrupting. In the way she doesn't ask questions I'm not ready to answer.
But that smile—today—it felt like an invitation.
And I wasn't sure I deserved it.
So I looked away.
Not because I didn't want her to see me.
But because I was afraid she already did.
Later that night, I found myself sitting with Vedant, Aryan, and Mudit in the common room. The lights were low, the air thick with the kind of quiet that only comes after something important has happened.
Aryan was sprawled across the couch, Mudit half-asleep with a cushion pulled over his face, and Vedant—always composed—was sipping tea like he was waiting for someone to say something real.
I didn't plan to speak.
But the words had been building all day, pressing against my ribs like they needed space.
"She smiled at me," I said suddenly.
Aryan looked up. "Meher?"
I nodded.
Vedant didn't react. Just set his cup down slowly.
Mudit blinked. "Wait, like, smiled-smiled? Or just normal Meher smile?"
"It was different," I said. "It felt... personal."
Aryan grinned. "Bro, you're in deep."
I didn't deny it.
Vedant leaned forward slightly. "You like her."
It wasn't a question.
I nodded. "I do."
Mudit sat up. "Since when?"
"I don't know," I said. "It wasn't loud. It just... grew. Quietly. Like something I didn't notice until it was everywhere."
Aryan whistled. "That's poetic. You should tell her."
I smiled faintly. "I don't think I can."
Vedant's voice was quiet. "Why not?"
"Because she sees me," I said. "And I don't know how to be seen."
There was a pause.
Then Aryan said, "You don't have to be perfect. Just honest."
Mudit nodded. "She's not asking for a performance. Just you."
Vedant didn't say anything. Just looked at me like he understood more than he was letting on.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt lighter.
Not because I'd solved anything.
But because I'd said it.
Out loud.
To people who mattered.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward being brave.