Chapter 5: Names Written in Shadows

The Cultural Fest ended, but the echoes of it lingered like aftertaste—sweet for most, bitter for a few.

Rhea and Aarav’s project received a quiet nod from the faculty, a few words in the college newsletter, and some curious questions from students who hadn’t bothered to step inside during the actual event.

But none of that mattered.

Because something else had begun to shift—between them.

They were still careful. Still walked beside each other without touching. Still called it “just friends.” But the way Aarav looked at her now lingered longer. And the way Rhea laughed now—it wasn’t guarded.

Until the storm came.

It arrived in the form of a name.

That Monday morning, the Psychology Department’s notice board was unusually crowded. Rhea, weaving through students with her coffee, paused as she noticed the murmuring.

On the board was a printed sheet—standard letter size.

But what was written on it wasn’t standard at all.

“Ex-St. Hilbert student Aarav Malhotra involved in campus vandalism, expelled after assault accusation in 2020. Transferred to Elmridge under academic discretion.”

Below it were two photos.

One, a grainy news clipping.

The other, unmistakably, was Aarav. Younger. Harsher. Still him.

Rhea’s fingers went cold.

People whispered around her like a storm circle.

“Did you know he was violent?”

“Why didn’t Elmridge tell us?”

“He’s been hiding this? No wonder he’s always so calm—it’s fake.”

Rhea turned and ran.

She found him at their usual place—by the cherry tree, sketchbook on his lap.

His eyes met hers, and he knew.

He didn’t ask what she’d seen.

He just said, “So it’s out.”

Rhea stood there, pulse thudding in her ears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried,” he said softly. “But I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“That’s not your choice, Aarav.”

“I know.”

Silence sat between them, more suffocating than the rain they’d danced in days ago.

“I didn’t assault anyone,” he finally said. “There was a fight. I was protecting someone. But the guy I punched was a senator’s son. No one cared about the full story.”

Rhea believed him. She didn’t know how or why—but she did.

Still, it hurt.

“People will talk,” she murmured.

“They already are.”

“And me being around you… won’t help.”

Aarav’s expression didn’t change. But she saw it—behind his eyes. The flicker of fear. Of loss.

“I understand,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

She shook her head. “It’s not about owing. It’s about what I can handle.”

Aarav stood slowly. Closed his sketchbook.

“I never wanted to be anyone’s burden, Rhea.”

“You’re not a burden,” she whispered.

“But I am a risk.”