Chapter 16

Three years ago

It’s late. Too late for me to still be awake, but I am.

It’s too late to be awake, but I am. Music hums in my ears as I doodle nothing on the page—just lines and loops that mean nothing.

I should sleep. I have school tomorrow. But my brain is not in the mood to listen.

Suddenly something thuds against the balcony.

My heart jumps straight into my throat.

I yank off my headphones, body going rigid, listening hard. The music is gone now, replaced by the distant hush of the city outside, the occasional rustle of the wind.

And then—another thud. I stare at my balcony door.

My first thought? Murder. My second thought? Burglary. My third, slightly less rational thought? A ghost. Because why wouldn’t I be haunted? That’s just my luck.

Slowly, I stand. My pulse is pounding as I inch toward the glass door, fingers curling around the handle. I’m already preparing to run, scream, or possibly fight for my life when I finally pull back the curtain and—

“What the—Amit?!”

Amit, standing right there, drenched in sweat, halfway up my damn balcony like a very unskilled cat burglar.

“Shhh!” he hisses, pushing a finger to his lips. He’s gripping the railing with one hand, the other bracing against the glass like he’s rethinking all his life choices.

I gape at him. “What—what the hell are you doing?! How did you even get up here?!”

“Sharma, now is not the time for questions, let me in before I fall and die.”

“Good.” I cross my arms. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to climb buildings like some tragic action hero.”

Amit scowls. “Dev. Open the door.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you carrying a knife?”

“What—no, you idiot—”

“Are you possessed?”

“Oh my god—”

“Is this a prank? Are the guys waiting down there to laugh when I let you in—”

“Sharma!”

I sigh, dramatically, then finally unlock the door and step aside. Amit hauls himself inside, landing with absolutely no grace whatsoever before collapsing onto my floor with a loud thud.

We stare at each other.

Then I ask, “So…you wanna tell me why you decided breaking-and-entering was the best idea tonight?”

Amit exhales, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He rubs the back of his neck, looking way too casual for someone who just scaled my house like a criminal.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says simply.

I squint at him. “And your first thought was to risk death by balcony?”

He grins. “My other option was texting you, but I figured this was more dramatic.”

I sigh, dropping back into my desk chair. “You’re a menace.”

“And yet, you aren’t complaining.”

“I literally am.”

Amit flops onto my bed like he owns the place, stretching out like he’s planning to spend the rest of his life there. His hair is a mess, his shirt sticking to his back, and now that he’s here, he won’t stop fidgeting—hands tapping against my pillow, foot bouncing.

He’s up to something.

I know that look.

I raise an eyebrow. “Alright. Spill it. What’s going on?”

It all had started with a question. A stupid, harmless, not-even-a-big-deal kind of question.

“Dev, will you go to the dance with me?”

Tanvi had said it casually, like she was asking me to pass the salt, like she hadn’t just made my entire day weird.

I had blinked at her in the middle of lunch, mid-bite of my sandwich, my brain catching up way too late. “Wait, what?”

Tanvi, completely unbothered: “The dance. You and me. Cool?”

She didn’t look nervous. Which was annoying, because if someone was going to ambush me in broad daylight with an event I wasn’t even thinking about, they should at least look a little concerned about my answer.

I had choked out a “Uh—sure?” before I even processed what I was agreeing to.

And that’s where it started.

Where my day took a sudden, unexpected detour into weird territory.

Because from that moment on, Amit was acting insane.

Not loudly. Not obviously. But I know him, and he was being weird.

The whole walk home? He’d barely spoken to me. At practice? He was aggressively competitive in a way that made Shreya mutter “Dude, chill, this isn’t the Olympics.”

By the time I got to my room that night, I had almost convinced myself I was imagining it. But well here I am.

Then, I cross my arms. “So? You wanna tell me why you decided to climb a building instead of just texting like a normal person?”

Amit sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. Too casual. “Told you. Couldn’t sleep.”

I squint at him. “Right. Totally normal. Nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been acting like you swallowed a lemon since lunch?”

Amit scoffs. Loudly. “Oh my god, are you seriously—?”

“Yes, I’m seriously.” I fold my arms. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me!”

“Amit, you have never just randomly climbed my balcony before—”

“Maybe I just missed you!” He says it too fast.

I pause.

Amit freezes. His face does this thing where he realizes what he just said, then tries to backtrack immediately.

“I mean, not like, weirdly. Just—like, friendly. Obviously. Like we miss our favourite shows, or movies or games..you know.”

Oh. Oh, this is fun.

“Ohhh,” I say, dragging it out. “You mean I’m your favourite, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god. This is about Tanvi, isn’t it?”

Amit rolls his eyes so hard he almost falls over. “Sharma. Please. Like I care about some random girl asking you to a dance—”

“She’s not random, we’ve known her for years—”

“Okay, but have we, though?” He throws up a hand. “What do we really know about her? Like, deep down? What if she’s secretly a sociopath?”

I laugh. “What—?”

“I mean, really, what do you guys even talk about? Do you even like her? What if she’s using you to make someone else jealous? What if—?”

“Amit, you’re spiraling.”

“I’m just saying! You didn’t even want to go to the dance before she asked. So why are you going?”

I blink. That’s it.

That’s the thing.

It’s not about Tanvi. It never was.

“Dude.” I shake my head, sitting back down on my bed. “It’s a dance. I’m not signing a marriage certificate. And who else was I supposed to go with?”

Amit shuts up.

Like fully, completely goes silent.

Which is weird.

Because Amit? He never shuts up. He always has something to say—especially when it’s unnecessary. But right now?

He just sits there.

His fingers tap against my pillow, restless. Foot bouncing. Eyes fixed on some invisible point on the floor.

And then, finally, he says—

“You could’ve asked me.”

It’s soft. Barely there.

Like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it until it’s already out in the air between us.

I freeze.

Because—what?

“What?” I blink at him.

Amit shifts, scratching the back of his neck. “Nothing. Forget it.”

But I don’t.

Because suddenly, something feels different.

“You wouldn’t have gone anyway,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Can you imagine us, at a dance?”

Amit exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah. Dumb, right?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

***

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