Meera's POV
She spotted him in the hallway.
He was headed straight toward Aarohi, who stood by the notice board, quietly reading, her usual foggy presence somehow drawing everyone in without trying.
Meera's stomach twisted.
Aryan's pace quickened, phone still in hand—probably ready to ask if Aarohi was okay again, like he hadn't already texted her five times today.
Meera didn't think. She moved.
"Hey," she said, stepping right in front of him.
He blinked. "Meera? I need to talk to—"
"No, you don't," she cut in, smiling tight. "You need to listen to me."
Before he could object, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him back toward the stairs.
"Meera—what the hell—"
"Just five minutes," she said, pushing open the rooftop door. "That's all I'm asking."
The wind hit them the second they stepped outside. The rooftop was quiet. Raw. Like the truth didn't have anywhere to hide up there.
She let go of him.
Aryan stepped back, confused, maybe even a little angry. "What's going on?"
Meera crossed her arms, biting the inside of her cheek. "You're losing yourself."
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about her, Aryan. Aarohi. The way you look at her. The way you run after her like she's the only girl in the world."
"She's not okay," he said sharply. "You don't understand—"
"No, you don't understand," Meera snapped. "You don't see what she's doing to you. You're so busy trying to fix her that you've forgotten who you were before she walked in."
He opened his mouth, but Meera wasn't done.
"You don't text me anymore. You don't laugh with me like you used to. I'm invisible to you, Aryan. And it hurts."
Silence.
Meera looked away, blinking fast.
"I know I'm not some tragic mystery like her. I don't come with secrets or scars or whatever it is that pulls you to her. But I've been here. Through everything. And you can't even see me anymore."
Aryan's jaw tightened.
"I never meant to hurt you," he said. "But this isn't about choosing between you and her. This is about someone who needs help."
"She always needs help," Meera whispered. "And you always show up."
He didn't reply.
Meera took a deep breath, her voice barely holding. "Tell me, Aryan… if I broke down right now, would you even notice?"
That question hung in the air like a storm cloud.
And down below, unnoticed, Aarohi stood by the stairwell—frozen.
Listening.
And slowly breaking, too.
Rooftop – Meera & Aryan
The wind was cold, but Meera barely felt it.
Aryan stood in front of her, tense, uncertain. "Meera… I care about you. You're my friend—"
"Stop," she said quietly, a broken smile tugging at her lips. "Don't say that. Not now. Don't call me your friend like it's supposed to fix everything."
He blinked, taken aback. "I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did," she interrupted, voice rising slightly. "That's all I've ever been to you. Background noise. The girl who's always there. The one you turn to when no one else is around."
Aryan took a step forward. "That's not fair—"
Meera's voice cracked. "You never look at me, Aryan. Not really. You don't notice when I'm quiet, or when I'm hurting. You only notice her."
Aryan froze.
"She walks into the room, and it's like the world shifts for you. Like nothing else matters. Not school. Not friends. Not me." She swallowed. "I could disappear tomorrow, and you wouldn't even notice."
"That's not true," Aryan said softly.
"Yes, it is," she whispered. "And the worst part? I kept hoping maybe one day you'd look at me the way you look at her. But you never did. You never will."
Aryan didn't know what to say.
And that silence…
It said everything.
Unnoticed by either of them, just past the slightly open rooftop door—Aarohi stood frozen.
She hadn't meant to listen. She had just followed Aryan, confused by why he hadn't come to talk to her like he usually did.
Now… she wished she hadn't heard a thing.
Her hand gripped the cold metal of the stair railing as the words echoed in her ears.
"You never look at me."
"You only notice her."
Aarohi didn't know what hurt more—Meera's pain, or the fact that she was the reason for it.
For a flicker of a second, she felt like vanishing.
But something deep inside her stirred. Not anger. Not confusion.
Guilt.
Because maybe… just maybe… she was shattering people without even trying.