Aria had a confession to make.

Not to anyone, just to herself.

At 1am, staring at her ceiling. When there was nobody around to witness it.

She liked talking to him.

Not liked him, just — liked talking to him. There was a difference. A very important difference that she was going to maintain.

Talking to him was easy. Which made no sense because nothing about Zayan Rathore was supposed to be easy. He was supposed to be the enemy and competition. The boy who had everything she was working for and wore it casually like it cost him nothing.

But somewhere between the dhaba chai and the almost hand touch and the model and the smile —

Talking to him had become the part of the day she didn't dread.

That was the confession.

She fell asleep telling herself it meant nothing.

She woke up and it still meant nothing.

She walked into college and Priya took one look at her face and said

"Something happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Your face is doing a thing."

"My face is not doing anything."

"It's doing the thing it does when you're trying very hard to feel nothing." Priya grabbed her chai. "What happened."

"I smiled at him."

Priya put her chai down.

Very carefully.

"You smiled at him."

"It was small and barely a smile. More like a normal facial movement."

"Aria."

"It meant nothing."

"YOU SMILED AT HIM."

"Keep your voice DOWN "

"Sorry sorry." Priya lowered her voice but her eyes were doing the opposite of lowering. "Okay. You smiled and he saw it?"

"...Yes."

"And?"

"And nothing, we looked at the model and went home."

Priya stared at her for a long moment.

"You're in trouble," she said.

"I'm not."

"You are so in trouble."

"Priya I swear"

"The girl who swore she'd never fall," Priya said simply. "Is falling."

Aria picked up her bag.

"I'm going to class."

"Running away won't help!"

"I'm not running. I'm walking. Quickly."

She walked quickly all the way to the studio.

Zayan was already there, Of course. Same seat, sketchbook open, coffee on the table — oat milk, no sugar. She knew without looking.

She hated that she knew that.

She sat down and opened her notes.

"Morning," he said.

Without looking up.

First time he'd said that.

She looked at him.

He was already back to sketching.

"Morning," she said back.

And that was it.

Two people saying good morning.

Completely normal.

Absolutely terrifying.

She opened her notebook and stared at the blank page.

The rule was supposed to be simple. Stay focused, Win the scholarship and Never fall.

The three rules, she'd had them since first year.

She looked at Zayan's hand moving across his sketchbook. The small scar on his left hand. The way he tapped his pencil three times before starting something new.

"Stay focused," she told herself.

She was trying.

She really was.

But the rule had a crack in it now.

A small barely crack.

But there.

And the cracks didn't stay small which she knew better than anyone, she studied buildings after all.