DIYA'S POV
The hostel washroom hummed with the sound of running water when my phone buzzed.
Maddy: Harsh is already on campus. Told him to show you around today. Don't get lost, okay?
I grinned at the screen, my thumb brushing over his name.
Harsh. Maddy hadn't said much about him—just that they'd been friends since freshman year and that he was "a sarcastic bastard, but you'll like him."
If Maddy trusted him, so would I.
An hour later, I spotted him leaning against the hostel gate—tall, lean, with an air of effortless indifference that bordered on arrogance.
"So, you're Diya," he said, not bothering with pleasantries.
"And you're Harsh," I shot back.
"Yup." He pushed off the wall, already walking. "Let's go before the sun tries to kill us."
I jogged to catch up. "Thanks for helping me. You didn't have to."
"Maddy asked," he said, shrugging. "That makes it my problem."
But as we walked—past the library, the cafeteria, the maze of lecture halls—I realized something: Harsh wasn't doing this just for Maddy.
There was a dry wit to his commentary, a sharpness to his observations that made me laugh despite myself.
"You know," I nudged him as we crossed the quad, "you're kind of like Maddy's brother. Should I call you my campus bro or something?"
He stopped dead. "Yeah, no. I don't do the whole 'brother' thing."
"Why not?"
"Because everyone's everyone's 'brother' now." His smirk was razor-thin. "I've got real siblings. That's enough."
"So what do I call you then?" I teased.
"Harsh works just fine."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Harsh."
By evening, he'd folded me into his friend group like I'd always been there—no awkward introductions, no "so how do you know Maddy?" Just cold coffee, heated debates, and the kind of easy camaraderie that made my chest ache with gratitude.
Later, curled on my bed, I called Maddy.
"So your best friend is… interesting," I said, tracing patterns on my blanket.
His laugh was warm. "Let me guess—he refused to let you call him your campus brother?"
"Yup. But I kinda like that about him. He's real. And his friends are fun."
"Told you he'd take care of you in his own weird way."
I smiled. "You were right."
For the first time since arriving, the campus didn't feel so vast.
I still missed Maddy—ached for him, really.
But I wasn't lost anymore.
Sometimes, all it took was one familiar thread in a brand-new tapestry to start feeling like you belonged.
HARSH'S POV
I spotted her the second she stepped out of the hostel—small, determined, with that look Maddy had described a hundred times.
Diya.
"So, you're Diya," I said, because what else was there to say?
She matched my tone effortlessly. "And you're Harsh."
Good. She could keep up.
I led her through campus, watching out of the corner of my eye as she took it all in—the chaos, the energy, the life of this place.
"You're kind of like Maddy's brother," she said later, grinning.
I nearly choked. "Yeah, no."
Not because it wasn't true, but because brother was too easy. Too cheap.
Maddy was my family—the kind you choose, the kind that sticks. And Diya?
She was his heart.
That made her mine to look after, whether she called me brother or not.