Arohi's POV
Meher was curled up on her bed, sketching something in charcoal—soft lines, blurred edges. Isha had just walked in, her tote bag slung low, eyes bright with gossip.
"Vedant skipped the pitch review," she said, dropping onto the floor with theatrical flair. "Riya looked like someone had stolen her spotlight mid-performance."
Meher didn't react. She rarely did.
I kept my eyes on my notebook, pen unmoving.
"He's been quiet lately," Isha continued. "Not cold. Just… quieter. Like something's shifted."
I nodded, noncommittally.
Meher glanced up.
Just once.
But it was enough.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Fine," I said.
Too quickly.
Isha tilted her head. "You're not jealous, are you?"
I looked at her.
Not sharply.
Just enough to make her pause.
"Of Riya?" I said. "No."
It wasn't a lie.
Not exactly.
Because it wasn't Riya I envied.
It was the ease with which she occupied space.
The way she spoke Vedant's name like it belonged to her.
The way she assumed proximity meant importance.
Meher's pencil stilled.
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
She knew me too well.
Knew that my silence wasn't indifference—it was containment.
Isha leaned back, watching me with that half-smile she wore when she sensed something unspoken.
"You know," she said, "He listens differently when you speak."
I didn't respond.
Because I'd noticed it too.
The way his gaze sharpened.
The way his silence felt like attention.
"I don't have time for relationships," I said.
Meher didn't flinch.
Isha raised an eyebrow.
But I didn't soften.
"I'm not built for distractions," I continued. "Not when I'm still proving I belong in rooms people like Vedant walk into without question."
Isha tilted her head. "You think he doesn't work hard?"
"I think he doesn't have to explain his worth before he speaks," I said. "I do. Every time."
Meher's gaze was steady. "You're allowed to want more than just achievement."
"I do," I said. "I want respect. I want legacy. I want to be the reason someone rewrites the rules—not the girl who paused her ambition for a boy who never had to choose."
Isha leaned back, quiet now.
Meher didn't look away.
"You think you're above love," she said softly.
"No," I said. "I think I'm above losing myself in it."
That was the edge.
Not arrogance.
Just clarity sharpened by experience.
"I saw what it did to Riya," I said. "She was brilliant. Focused. And then she fell for someone who liked her brilliance until it outshined his own."
Meher's voice was gentle. "You're not her."
"I know," I said. "That's why I won't make the same mistake."
Isha reached for her water bottle, but her eyes stayed on me. "And Vedant?"
I paused.
Then smiled—just a little.
The kind of smile that doesn't ask for permission.
"He can orbit," I said. "But I'm not slowing down for anyone."