25 Freshers Ball #3
"And..." Diya continued, her tone dropping into a gossip-heavy register, "guess who came over to talk to us during the break?"
Ansh's eyes remained fixed on the brake lights ahead. "Hmm?"
"Two guys from our class."
Niyati's eyes flickered upward. Through the rear-view mirror, she saw Ansh's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the leather-wrapped steering wheel.
"Oh?" he asked, keeping his tone light and conversational.
"Aarush and Shaurya," Diya supplied eagerly.
Ansh kept his gaze straight ahead on the road. "What about them?" "They came over because of the Freshers' Ball this weekend." His expression stayed perfectly calm, masked behind the practiced composure of an older brother. "So?"
Diya turned halfway in her seat to look at him. "They asked us to go with them!"
A sudden, sharp silence settled inside the car-a heavy weight dropping onto the dashboard. It lasted barely two seconds, yet somehow it felt infinitely longer.
From the back seat, Niyati instinctively looked up, her pulse racing. The rear-view mirror perfectly reflected Ansh's face. The polite, gentle smile was still resting on his lips, but something deep inside his dark eyes had noticeably dimmed, the quiet warmth instantly replaced by a guarded shadow.
"So..." he asked softly, his voice impossibly steady. "You both said yes?"
"Of course!" Diya beamed, completely oblivious to the sudden atmospheric shift. "They didn't have partners and neither did we. It literally solved everything in one go."
Ansh gave a single, slow nod. "That's... nice."
Only Niyati caught the microscopic, hesitant pause before he answered.
In the next second, his gaze shifted slightly, meeting hers through the rear-view mirror. Just for a single, breathless heartbeat, his eyes locked onto hers. There was no anger in his look, no accusation, no bitter judgment.
There was only something she desperately wished she hadn't seen-a quiet, painfully restrained disappointment that cut far deeper than anger ever could.
Unable to bear the silent ache radiating from his eyes, Niyati was the first to break contact, dropping her gaze to her hands.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of Diya's energetic chatter, filling every potential quiet spell. She chatted endlessly about professors, class dynamics, hostel food complaints, and upcoming dance rehearsals.
Ansh listened attentively, responding when prompted, laughing in all the right places, and maintaining his role as the supportive older brother. But every few minutes, his eyes would flick upward toward the mirror.
And every single time... he found Niyati staring out the window, lost in her own heavy thoughts.
Nearly forty minutes later, they pulled into the parking bay of one of Delhi's most opulent shopping malls.
The high-end boutique they entered was a vast, brightly lit space that glittered with rows of designer evening gowns displayed beneath soft crystal chandeliers.
Soft instrumental melodies floated overhead while stylish shoppers moved between racks of silk, satin, and organza.
Diya's eyes sparkled with immediate delight. "Okay, this place is actual heaven."
Before either Niyati or Ansh could reply, Diya had already drifted off toward a wall of formal dresses. "Bhai! Niyu! Hurry up!"
Ansh let out a quiet laugh, adjusting his blazer as he walked. "She hasn't changed a bit, has she?"
"She never will," Niyati murmured, a small, faint smile touching her lips.
Together, they walked deeper into the boutique. Polite sales assistants greeted them before giving them space to browse. Nearby, Diya was already pulling hanger after hanger from the racks, holding up bright gowns against herself in rapid succession.
"What about this pink one?" Diya asked.
"No," Niyati shook her head.
"This green one?"
"No."
"This yellow one?"
"Definitely no."
Diya huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "You are completely impossible!"
"I know," Niyati replied smoothly.
Their familiar, fond bickering echoed softly through the showroom.
Meanwhile, Niyati wandered toward another section, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against rows of satin, chiffon, and heavy sequined fabrics. Truthfully, she wasn't really looking. Her mind was miles away, her chest tight with a quiet, persistent guilt.
Every few moments, her eyes would drift back toward Ansh. He wasn't browsing for clothes; he simply stood a short distance away, hands comfortably tucked inside his trouser pockets, patiently watching the two girls.
There was a quiet, almost fragile stillness about him-as if he were trying to keep himself firmly anchored in the role of an uninvolved observer.
Taking a slow, steadying breath, Niyati smoothed her kurti and walked over to stand beside him. He looked up the second she stopped near his shoulder.
"Not finding anything you like?" he asked gently, his voice soft.
"I'm mostly just pretending to browse," she admitted softly.
A faint, genuine smile cracked through his composed exterior.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, the soft ambient music filling the silence between them. Finally, Niyati lowered her voice, her eyes fixed on her shoes. "I didn't want to go, Ansh."