"Ke ho na jaaye pyaar tumse mujhe
Kar dega barbaad ishq mujhe
Ho na jaaye pyaar tumse mujhe
Behad-beshumaar tumse mujhe"
~ Barbaad - Jubin Nautiyal
~Three weeks later, Showcase Day~
I was going to throw up.
"You're going to be fine," Aadya said for the fifteenth time, adjusting the collar of my outfit. "Better than fine. You're going to be amazing."
"I feel like I'm going to pass out."
"That's just adrenaline. Totally normal."
We were backstage at the freshman showcase venue—a beautiful gallery space that the fashion department had transformed into a runway show. My collection was one of fifteen being presented today, and mine was scheduled for 2 PM.
It was currently 1:47.
"Breathe," Aadya instructed. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."
I tried. My hands were shaking.
"Where's your inhaler?"
"In my bag."
"Go get it. Just having it will help."
She was right. Just holding the inhaler made me feel slightly more in control.
"Is everyone here?" I asked, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.
"Everyone. Front row. Vihaan brought a literal camera to document everything. Ritika made a program. Aashika brought flowers. Shivansh is... well, Shivansh is being supportive in his quiet way." She smiled. "And Aadyant has been pacing outside for the last hour. I think he's more nervous than you are."
That thought made me smile despite my anxiety. "He's nervous?"
"Terrified. Keeps asking if you're okay, if you need anything, if he should come back here—" Aadya's eyes softened. "He really cares about you, you know."
"I know."
Over the past three weeks, Aadyant had been... everything. Patient. Supportive. Present. He'd helped me finish my collection, staying up late to help with last-minute adjustments. He'd brought me food when I forgot to eat. He'd talked me down from three separate panic attacks when the pressure got too much.
He'd been exactly what he promised to be: there.
And somewhere along the way, my feelings had shifted from "this is terrifying" to "I don't know what I'd do without him."
"Five-minute call for Kashvi Singh!" a coordinator called out.
My heart jumped into my throat.
"You've got this," Aadya said firmly. "Your collection is incredible. Your statement is powerful. And we're all out there rooting for you."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Go show them what you're made of."
~
I was definitely more nervous than Kashvi.
"Bro, you need to chill," Vihaan said, watching me fidget with my phone. "She's going to do great."
"I know. I just—what if something goes wrong? What if she freezes? What if—"
"What if you take a breath before you pass out?" Ritika suggested.
The lights dimmed. Music started. The showcase was beginning.
The first few collections were good—some better than others. Creative concepts, solid execution. But I barely paid attention, counting down until Kashvi's turn.
Finally, the announcer's voice: "Next, we have Kashvi Singh, presenting 'Second Chances: A Study in Sustainable Reconstruction.'"
My heart was pounding.
The lights shifted. Music changed to something softer, more emotional.
And then the models started walking.
~
Kashvi's collection was stunning.
Five pieces, each one a masterpiece of sustainable design. A jacket constructed from vintage scarves, the colors blending seamlessly. A dress made from deconstructed denim, restructured into something elegant and modern. A coat pieced together from old wool blankets, the different textures creating visual interest.
Every piece told a story of transformation. Of taking something discarded and seeing its potential. Of believing that broken could become beautiful.
But it was the final piece that made the audience gasp.
A floor-length gown, constructed entirely from wedding dresses found at thrift stores. White and cream fabrics layered and reconstructed, with delicate embroidery from each original dress visible throughout. It was haunting and beautiful—a meditation on new beginnings built from the remnants of old endings.
As the final model walked, Kashvi's statement played over the speakers:
"Fashion is often about the new. The next trend. The next season. But what if fashion could be about second chances? About seeing value in what others have discarded? About transformation—taking something broken and building it into something beautiful again.
This collection is personal. It's about my own journey of deconstruction and reconstruction. About learning that broken doesn't mean worthless. That our scars can become part of something beautiful. That everyone—and everything—deserves a second chance.
These pieces are made from materials that were thrown away. Forgotten. Considered useless. But with care and intention and belief in their potential, they became something new. Something that honors what they were while celebrating what they can be.
We all deserve that same grace."
The room was silent for a beat.
Then the applause started. Loud. Genuine. The kind of applause that said the audience had been moved.
~
I was on my feet before I realized I was standing, clapping so hard my hands hurt.
"Holy shit," Vihaan breathed. "That was incredible."
"She's a genius," Aashika said, tears in her eyes. "An actual genius."
On stage, Kashvi appeared for her bow. She looked terrified but also beautiful—wearing one of her own designs, a simple but elegant piece that showcased her talent.
Her eyes found our group in the front row. Found me.
I smiled, mouthing: You did it.
She smiled back, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds.
~
~After the show~
I was surrounded by people.
Professors wanting to discuss my work. Industry professionals handing me business cards. Other students congratulating me. It was overwhelming in the best and worst way.
"Kashvi Singh?" A woman in an expensive suit approached. "I'm Miranda James, head buyer for Echelon Boutique. I'd love to talk to you about potentially carrying your work."
"I—what?"
"Your collection was remarkable. Exactly the kind of sustainable, story-driven fashion we're looking for. Here's my card. Call me next week?"
I took the card with shaking hands. "Yes. Definitely. Thank you."
More people. More conversations. More opportunities that felt surreal.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I managed to escape to where my friends were waiting.
"Kashvi!" Aadya practically tackled me in a hug. "You were amazing! Everyone was crying!"
"I wasn't crying," Vihaan said, wiping his eyes suspiciously. "I just had something in my eye. For like ten minutes."
"You were crying," Shivansh confirmed.
"Shut up."
Ritika handed me a bouquet of roses. "These are from all of us. You absolutely killed it up there."
"The statement," Aashika said, her eyes still watery. "God, Kashvi, it was so powerful. I felt every word."
I looked at them—these people who'd become so important to me over the past few weeks. Who'd shown up and supported me and made me believe I could do this.
"Thank you," I managed, my voice thick. "All of you. I couldn't have done this without—"
My eyes found Aadyant, standing slightly behind the group. He hadn't said anything yet, just watching me with this expression I couldn't quite read.
"Can I talk to you?" I asked quietly. "Just for a second?"
"Of course."
~
We stepped outside the gallery, into the late afternoon sun. Kashvi was still holding the bouquet, her showcase badge still around her neck.
"You were incredible in there," I said when she didn't speak right away. "Kashvi, that collection—your statement—I don't even have words."
"I couldn't have done it without you." She looked up at me. "The statement. The late nights helping me finish pieces. Talking me down when I panicked. You were there for all of it."
"I wanted to be there."
"I know. And that's—" Her voice cracked. "That's everything, Aadyant. No one's ever shown up for me like that. No one's ever made me feel like I was worth that kind of effort."
"You are worth it. You're worth everything."
She set down the bouquet on a nearby bench and stepped closer.
"That piece about second chances. About believing broken things can become beautiful." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I wasn't just talking about clothes."
My heart stopped. "Kashvi—"
"I'm broken, Aadyant. In ways I haven't told you about. In ways that might make you run if you knew." A tear escaped. "But being around you, around all of you... I'm starting to believe what I wrote. That maybe broken doesn't mean worthless. That maybe I deserve a second chance too."
I couldn't help it. I reached up and wiped away her tear with my thumb.
"You're not broken. You're healing. There's a difference." My voice was rough with emotion. "And whatever happened to you, whatever you're not ready to tell me yet—it doesn't change how I see you. You're brave and talented and stronger than you know."
"How can you be so sure? You don't even know—"
"I know you. I know your heart. I know how you care about people even when you're terrified of being hurt. I know how you put everyone else first. I know how you see beauty in discarded things because you understand what it's like to feel discarded." I stepped closer. "I know everything that matters, Kashvi."
She was crying openly now. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of this. Of you. Of how much I'm starting to care about you." She laughed wetly. "Of how much it's going to hurt when you inevitably realize I'm too much work and leave."
"I'm not leaving." I said it firmly. "Kashvi, I'm not going anywhere. I don't care how long it takes for you to believe that. I'll wait."
"Why?" It came out as a whisper.
"Because—" I stopped. This wasn't how I'd planned to tell her. Not here, not now. But looking at her tear-stained face, her eyes full of fear and hope and something that looked like—
"Because I'm falling for you," I said quietly. "I have been since the moment I saw you at that door in that pink dress, looking like you wanted to run but choosing to stay anyway. And every day since then, I fall a little more. The way you smile when you don't think anyone's watching. The way you care so deeply even when it scares you. The way you create beauty from broken pieces because you understand both."
She stared at me, tears streaming down her face.
"You don't have to say anything," I added quickly. "I'm not asking for anything. I just needed you to know. Because you keep asking why I'm patient, why I show up, why I care—that's why. Because you're you. And that's everything."
~
He was falling for me.
Aadyant Rathore was falling for me.
I should panic. Should run. Should protect myself before this became too real and he inevitably got hurt because I was too damaged to be loved.
But looking at him—at his honest eyes, his gentle expression, the way he'd just laid his heart at my feet without asking for anything in return—
I didn't want to run.
For the first time in three years, I wanted to stay.
"I'm falling for you too," I whispered. "And it terrifies me."
His eyes widened. "Kashvi—"
"I don't know how to do this. How to let someone care about me. How to believe I deserve this." More tears fell. "But I want to try. With you. If you're willing to be patient with me while I figure it out."
"I'll be patient for as long as you need." He smiled, soft and warm. "We'll figure it out together."
Before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us and hugged him. Tight. Like I was holding onto something precious.
His arms came around me immediately, and I felt him exhale like he'd been holding his breath.
"Congratulations," he murmured into my hair. "On the showcase. On being brilliant. On everything."
I laughed through my tears. "Thank you. For everything."
We stood there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, and I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I could have this. Could have someone who saw my broken pieces and chose to stay anyway.
~
When they finally pulled apart, Kashvi wiped her eyes and laughed.
"I probably look like a mess."
"You look beautiful."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "You're biased."
"Completely. And I'm not apologizing for it."
They walked back inside together, his hand finding hers. Natural. Easy. Right.
The rest of the group was waiting, pretending they hadn't been watching through the window.
"So," Aadya said with a knowing smile. "Are we celebrating or are we celebrating?"
"Definitely celebrating," Kashvi said, and for the first time, her smile was completely unguarded.
That night, they all went out to dinner. Laughed. Told stories. Celebrated Kashvi's success.
And through it all, Kashvi kept catching Aadyant's eye across the table. Kept feeling the ghost of his words: I'm falling for you.
She was falling too. Had been for a while, probably.
And for once, the fear was smaller than the hope.
~
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