The photo lay on the coffee table, a silent accusation beneath the dim glow of the lamp.
Jaanvi traced the edges with her finger, heart still pounding from the night's revelations. The room felt thick with unspoken words, memories heavy like fog.
Aditya leaned back against the armrest, eyes narrowing. "You're sure this Maya girl isn't still hanging around?"
Jaanvi shook her head, but the doubt was already there, whispering between them.
"Good," he said. "Because if she shows up, she'll have me to answer to."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what's the great Aditya Singh going to do? Use those debate skills to... intimidate her with perfect logic?"
He smirked. "You're just jealous I'm better at debating than you."
"Oh please," Jaanvi shot back, sitting up straighter. "You only win because I let you."
"That's a convenient excuse."
"Because it's true."
They paused, eyes locked, breath catching—not from anger, but something softer, sharper.
Then Jaanvi laughed, the sound breaking the heaviness.
"You're impossible."
"Right back at you."
Ron suddenly burst into the room, clapping his hands like a drill sergeant.
"Enough romance and doom! It's way too late for all that. Time for some real fun."
Aditya rolled his eyes, but Jaanvi smiled. "What do you have in mind, oh fearless leader?"
Ron grinned. "How about a midnight debate? No notes, just us throwing arguments around. Winner gets... I don't know, breakfast cereal choice."
The group perked up, some groaning, some excited.
"Fine," Jaanvi said, standing and brushing off her hoodie. "But I warn you — I'm coming for you, Singh."
Aditya stood too, stepping closer.
"Bring it on, Vaidya."
The others shuffled to clear a makeshift 'stage' in the living room.
As they started, the words flew fast and sharp.
Jaanvi jabbed at his points with her wit, Aditya countered with calm precision.
But underneath it all, every glance, every smirk, every playful jab was loaded with a history only they understood.
And yet, outside the house, shadows twisted.
A figure paused under a streetlamp.
Watching.
Waiting.
Some nights the past comes for a visit.
Some fights are just for show.
And some invisible threads pull tighter in the dark.
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