Shumaila was exhausted.
It had been days since the university assembly, and yet her life refused to return to normal.
Wherever she turned, either Hamza or Karan was there. One trying to apologize, the other trying to prove he wasn't the enemy. Both suffocating her in their own way.
"Shumaila, wait—"
She didn't even need to turn around to know who it was this time. She quickened her steps, ignoring Hamza completely.
"Just give me a minute," he tried again, walking beside her. "I know I don't deserve your time, but—"
"Then stop wasting it," she snapped, finally stopping to face him. "You're right, Hamza. You don't deserve my time. You don't deserve my words. So why are you still here?"
Hamza swallowed hard, looking at her like a lost man grasping at the last piece of hope. "Because I need to make this right."
Shumaila's eyes turned cold. "You can't."
She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.
And yet, Hamza didn't stop trying.
Since Shumaila refused to listen, Hamza decided to show her instead.
He started doing small things—things that didn't demand attention but were impossible to ignore.
Whenever she had an assignment due, Hamza made sure she had access to the best research material. Whenever she had to walk alone late in the evening, he made sure he was nearby—never close enough to intrude, but close enough to watch over her. Whenever people whispered apologies to her, he made sure to correct those who still spoke badly about her.
But no matter what he did, Shumaila never acknowledged it. (Lol I will die)
Karan, on the other hand, took a different route.
He didn't apologize repeatedly. He didn't chase after her.
Instead, he offered his presence when she needed it.
"I know you don't trust me," he had said one day, placing a file on the table next to her during a business project. "And I don't expect you to. But I want to make things easier for you, even if just a little."
Shumaila had stared at the file—detailed notes and strategies for the upcoming business workshop.
She didn't say anything, but she took the file.
And that was the difference between Karan and Hamza. She didn't push Karan away.
Hamza saw it all.
He saw how Karan found small moments to stand by her side.
He saw how Shumaila didn't reject him outright.
And most of all, he saw how easily Karan was slipping into a place that used to be his.
"You're wasting your time," a voice came from behind him one day.
Hamza turned to find Siddarth watching him, arms crossed.
"She's not going to forgive you, Hamza. And even if she does, it won't be anytime soon."
Hamza clenched his jaw. "I don't care how long it takes."
Siddarth scoffed. "Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought."
Hamza had no reply.
Because maybe, just maybe, Siddarth was right.
Hamza knew he had to do more. Something bigger. Something undeniable.
So one afternoon, while students were gathered at the university cafeteria, he did something he never thought he would do.
He stood up on one of the tables and called for attention.
At first, people ignored him. But then, they noticed the look on his face—serious, vulnerable, unguarded.
Shumaila, who had been sitting with her group, froze when she heard his voice.
"I know I've already said this privately. And I know a lot of you don't care. But I need to say it again."
He took a deep breath.
"I accused Shumaila of something she never did. I humiliated her, blamed her, and allowed everyone to turn against her without ever questioning if I was wrong. And I was. I was wrong."
The cafeteria fell into complete silence.
"I know an apology won't fix what I did. I know my regret won't undo the damage. But I want the truth to be loud—just as loud as the lies were."
He exhaled, stepping down.
"That's all I had to say."
Shumaila stared at him, expression unreadable.
Then, without a word, she stood up and walked away.
Hamza barely had a second to breathe before Karan appeared in front of him.
"That was quite the performance," Karan mused. "Do you actually think a grand speech is going to fix everything?"
Hamza narrowed his eyes. "I don't expect it to. But I wasn't doing it for forgiveness. I was doing it because the truth deserved to be said."
Karan smirked. "Then why do you look like you expected her to stay?"
Hamza had no answer.
For the first time, Karan and Hamza stood face-to-face—not as rivals, but as two men fighting for the same thing.
And they both knew it wouldn't be easy.
Later that evening, the group sat together, the air heavy with unspoken tension.
"So, what now?" Rudra finally asked. "Are we supposed to believe Hamza has changed?"
Sneha sighed. "He's trying. You have to give him that."
"And Karan?" Siddarth added. "Are we just going to pretend he's completely innocent now?"
"At least Karan isn't forcing himself into Shumaila's life," Aarav muttered. "Unlike Hamza."
"Oh, come on," Komal scoffed. "Karan isn't a saint either. Just because he's acting all helpful now doesn't mean he didn't stay silent before."
Akansha crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter. Shumaila hasn't forgiven either of them. And honestly? I don't think she should."
The group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
They weren't sure who was right anymore.
And that uncertainty would only grow from here.