"And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies
The beautiful kind, making up for lost time"
~ Enchanted – Taylor Swift
~Thursday Morning, 2AM~
I couldn't sleep.
My mind wouldn't stop replaying the past few days. The hug. The conversations. The way Aadyant looked at me like I mattered.
The showcase project was spread across my desk—fabrics, sketches, notes. I'd been working on it for hours, trying to channel my restless energy into something productive.
But my brain kept drifting back to him.
I'm never giving up on you.
No one had ever said that to me before. No one had ever made me feel like I was worth the effort.
My phone buzzed. Probably Bua checking on me—she'd heard me moving around.
But when I looked at the screen, my heart jumped.
Aadyant: Can't sleep. Too much coffee earlier. How's the showcase project coming?
2:17 AM. He was awake too.
Me: Can't sleep either. Project is... overwhelming. How do you know I'm working on it?
Aadyant: Because I'm learning how you work. When you're stressed, you throw yourself into projects. Am I wrong?
He wasn't wrong.
Me: No. You're annoyingly observant.
Aadyant: Is it annoying? Or endearing?
Me: Jury's still out.
Aadyant: Fair. Want to talk about what's overwhelming you?
I hesitated. It was 2 AM. I should tell him to go to sleep. Should maintain some boundaries.
But the thought of talking to him, even through text, made the anxiety in my chest loosen a little.
Me: It's the personal statement part. I have to write about why sustainable fashion matters to me. About my creative journey. And I don't know how to explain it without...
I stopped typing. Without what? Without revealing too much? Without admitting that creating something beautiful from broken pieces felt like the only way I knew how to cope?
Aadyant: Without what?
Me: Without making it too personal.
Aadyant: What if personal is exactly what they want?
Me: What if personal is too much?
Aadyant: What if it's exactly enough?
I stared at my phone, at his words, and felt something shift in my chest.
Aadyant: Want to meet somewhere? Sometimes it's easier to think when you're not staring at your desk at 2 AM.
Me: Where would we even go at 2 AM?
Aadyant: There's a 24-hour diner about 10 minutes from campus. Best pancakes you'll ever have. And it's quiet this time of night.
This was a bad idea. Meeting him alone at 2 AM. Letting him even further into my life.
Me: I'll be there in 20 minutes.
~
I got to the diner in fifteen minutes.
Maybe I drove a little faster than I should have. Maybe I'd already been dressed because I'd given up on sleep an hour ago. Maybe I was way too excited about the prospect of seeing Kashvi at 2 AM in a random diner.
The place was nearly empty—just a couple of truckers at the counter and a tired-looking waiter refilling coffee pots.
I grabbed a booth near the window and tried not to look like a guy who'd just rushed out of his apartment to meet a girl he was definitely falling for.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened, and Kashvi walked in.
She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie (not mine, unfortunately), her hair pulled into a messy bun, no makeup, looking absolutely beautiful.
"Hey," she said, sliding into the booth across from me. "This is insane, right? Meeting at 2 AM for pancakes?"
"Completely insane." I smiled. "But I'm glad you came."
"Me too, I think."
The waiter came over, looking unsurprised by two college students showing up in the middle of the night.
"What can I get you kids?"
"Chocolate chip pancakes," I said. "And coffee."
"Same," Kashvi added. "But can I get the pancakes with whipped cream instead of butter?"
"Sure thing, hon."
After he left, Kashvi looked at me. "How did you find this place?"
"Aadya and I discovered it during our first week. We were both jet-lagged and wandering around at weird hours." I leaned back. "It became our spot for when things got overwhelming."
"Does things get overwhelming for you?"
"Sometimes. The pressure of being who everyone expects me to be. The weight of knowing that in a few years I'll have responsibilities I can't even fully imagine yet." I paused. "It helps to have a place where I can just... be normal."
She looked at me for a long moment. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Someone more... arrogant? Self-absorbed? You're a literal prince, but you're one of the most down-to-earth people I've ever met."
"Would it help if I was more arrogant?"
She smiled. "Definitely not."
The coffee arrived, and we sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
"So," I said finally. "The personal statement."
She groaned. "Do we have to talk about that?"
"You texted me at 2 AM stressed about it. So yeah, I think we do."
~
He was right. Annoyingly right.
"I just don't know how to write about why sustainable fashion matters without..." I trailed off.
"Without revealing why it really matters to you?"
I nodded.
"What if you did? What if you let them see that connection?"
"Because it's too much. Too personal. They'll think I'm using trauma for sympathy points or—"
"Or they'll see that you're creating something meaningful from something difficult. That you're taking broken pieces and making them beautiful again." He leaned forward. "Kashvi, that's not weakness. That's strength."
My throat felt tight. "How do you always know what to say?"
"I don't. I just know you. And I know that whatever you're afraid of sharing... it's probably exactly what will make your statement powerful."
The pancakes arrived—fluffy, covered in whipped cream, smelling like heaven.
"Eat first," Aadyant said. "Then we'll figure out the statement."
~
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Kashvi pulled out her phone and opened her notes app.
"Okay. Help me brainstorm."
"Tell me why sustainable fashion actually matters to you. Not the academic answer. The real one."
Kashvi was quiet for a long moment, playing with her fork.
"Because it's about giving things a second chance," she said finally. "About taking something that everyone else has discarded and seeing its value. About believing that broken doesn't mean worthless."
Aadyant's expression softened. "Write that down."
"It's too—"
"It's perfect. Write it down."
She did, fingers flying across her phone screen.
"What else?" he prompted.
"It's about... transformation. About the process of breaking something down and building it back up into something new. Something that's both what it was and what it could be."
"Keep going."
The words started flowing then. Ideas. Feelings. Connections between her work and her life that she'd never put into words before.
Aadyant listened, occasionally asking questions, helping her untangle her thoughts when they got jumbled.
By the time they finished, it was almost 4 AM, and Kashvi had a complete outline for her personal statement.
"This is good," she said, reading through her notes. "Really good."
"Because it's honest. It's you."
She looked up at him. "Thank you. For this. For showing up at 2 AM and helping me figure this out."
"Anytime, Kashvi. I mean that."
~
We left the diner around 4:30. The world was still dark, that strange in-between time where night was ending but morning hadn't quite begun.
"You should go home," Aadyant said as we stood by our vehicles in the empty parking lot. "Get some sleep."
"You too."
"I will." He paused. "But Kashvi?"
"Yeah?"
"What you shared tonight. About broken things deserving second chances. About transformation." His eyes held mine. "You know that applies to you too, right? That you deserve a second chance. A fresh start."
My breath caught.
"I'm working on believing that."
"Good." He smiled. "Keep working on it. I'll be here to remind you when you forget."
Before I could overthink it, I stepped forward and hugged him. Quick. Impulsive. But real.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Always."
~
~Friday Afternoon~
"You look exhausted," Aadya said, finding me in the library.
"Didn't sleep much."
"Let me guess. Up late working on something with Kashvi?"
I looked up at her. "How did you—"
"Twin telepathy. Also, you have that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I stayed up until 4 AM with the girl I'm falling for and I don't regret a second' look."
I couldn't even deny it.
"We met at a diner. She was stressed about her showcase statement. I helped her work through it."
"At 2 AM?"
"She texted me. I couldn't just leave her struggling alone."
Aadya sat down across from me. "You've got it so bad."
"I know."
"Does she know?"
"Probably? I'm not exactly subtle."
"And?"
"And I'm waiting. Like I said I would."
"You're a better person than me. I would've confessed by now."
"She's not ready. And pushing her would only make her run." I closed my textbook. "I can wait."
"How long?"
"As long as it takes."
~
~Saturday~
I spent all of Saturday working on my showcase project.
The statement was done—raw and honest and terrifying. But I'd written it, and Professor Chen had loved the draft.
Now I was in the textile studio, actually constructing the pieces. Deconstructing old garments. Cutting. Sewing. Building something new from discarded pieces.
It was meditative. Calming. The one thing that always made sense.
Around 3 PM, the studio door opened.
"Thought I might find you here."
I looked up. Aadyant, carrying two coffee cups and a paper bag.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"Because it's Saturday, you're stressed about the showcase, and this is where you come when you need to think." He set down the coffee and bag. "I brought sustenance. Latte with one sugar, and that bakery down the street that makes those amazing croissants."
I stared at him. "You brought me coffee and food?"
"You've probably been here for hours. And knowing you, you haven't eaten."
He was right. I hadn't.
"You didn't have to do this."
"Kashvi." He gave me that look. The patient, gentle one that made my heart do stupid things. "We've been over this."
"I know, I know. You wanted to."
"Exactly." He settled into a chair near my work table. "Show me what you're working on?"
For the next hour, I walked him through my project. The concept. The pieces. The construction process. He listened intently, asking thoughtful questions, genuinely interested in every detail.
"This is incredible," he said, examining a nearly-finished jacket. "Kashvi, this is going to blow everyone away at the showcase."
"You really think so?"
"I know so." He looked at me. "You're talented. Really, truly talented. And I can't wait to watch everyone else realize what I already know."
My face heated. "You're biased."
"Maybe. But I'm also right."
~
They spent the rest of the afternoon together. Aadyant did his own homework while Kashvi worked, occasionally looking up to watch her. The way she bit her lip when she was concentrating. The way her hands moved with practiced precision. The way she'd absently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
He was so far gone for this girl.
Around 6 PM, Kashvi's phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and her face went pale.
"Everything okay?" Aadyant asked.
"I... I need to take this." She grabbed her phone and stepped outside the studio.
Through the window, he could see her pacing. The call lasted less than two minutes, but when she came back in, she looked shaken.
"Kashvi?"
"I'm fine. Just... a call I wasn't expecting."
"Want to talk about it?"
She shook her head. "I can't. Not yet."
"Okay." He stood up, walking over to her. "But you're not fine. I can see it."
"I will be. I just need..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I need to focus on the project."
He recognized that. The deflection. The attempt to bury herself in work rather than deal with whatever that call had stirred up.
"Kashvi, whatever that was—"
"I said I can't talk about it." Her voice cracked. "Please just... can we just go back to working? Pretend that didn't happen?"
He wanted to push. Wanted to help. But he'd promised to respect her boundaries.
"Okay. Yeah. Of course."
But for the rest of the evening, he watched her carefully. Watched as her hands shook slightly while she worked. Watched as she blinked back tears she wouldn't let fall.
Whatever that call had been, it had rattled her badly.
And not being able to help was killing him.
~
~Later that night~
I was lying in bed, staring at my ceiling, replaying the phone call.
My mother's voice. The first time I'd heard it in three years.
"Kashvi, we need to talk about what happened."
I'd hung up. Blocked the number. Tried to pretend it hadn't happened.
But my hands were still shaking.
My phone buzzed.
Aadyant: I know you said you're fine, but I'm checking anyway. Are you okay?
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
Kashvi: No. But I will be.
Aadyant: Do you want company? I can come over. Or we can just text. Or I can leave you alone. Whatever you need.
Me: Just... can you tell me something good? Something that has nothing to do with anything serious?
Aadyant: When I was seven, I tried to teach myself to juggle. I was convinced I could master it in one day. I broke three vases, knocked over a priceless sculpture, and gave myself a black eye. My parents banned me from juggling for life.
Despite everything, I smiled.
Me: A black eye? From juggling?
Aadyant: I threw a ball straight up and forgot to move out of the way.
Me: That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
Aadyant: I'm here for your entertainment. Want another story?
Me: Yes please.
He sent me story after story. Ridiculous childhood memories. Embarrassing moments. Funny things his friends had done. Anything to make me laugh.
And slowly, the shaking stopped. The panic receded. The world felt a little less overwhelming.
Me: Thank you.
Aadyant: Anytime. I mean it. 2 AM or 2 PM, bad days or good days. I'm here.
Me: Why?
Aadyant: Because you matter to me. More than you probably realize.
I read those words three times, my heart doing complicated things.
Me: You matter to me too.
It was the most honest I'd been in years.
Aadyant: Get some sleep, Kashvi. Tomorrow's a new day.
Me: Goodnight, Aadyant.
Aadyant: Goodnight. Sweet dreams.
I pulled my blanket tighter around me and let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to face everything alone anymore.
~
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