HARSH'S POV
Harsh had always prided himself on being untouchable.
Love was messy. Love was complicated. Love was for people who didn't mind having their hearts ripped out and handed back to them in pieces.
And yet—
There he was.
Falling.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Irrevocably.
It wasn't one moment that did it. It was a thousand.
The way Diya's nose scrunched when she laughed too hard. The way she always stole the last fry but replaced it with a bite of her dessert. The way her voice softened when she asked, "Did you eat today?" like she genuinely cared about the answer.
Most dangerous of all?
The way she looked at him—really looked—like she saw every broken, jagged piece of him and didn't flinch away.
It terrified him.
Because Harsh didn't do love.
But for her?
He was starting to think he might.
DIYA'S POV
She noticed the change.
The way Harsh's touches lingered just a second too long. The way his usual sarcasm gave way to something softer whenever she was near. The way his eyes tracked her across a room like he was afraid she'd disappear if he looked away.
It should've thrilled her.
Instead, it left her unsettled.
Because the boy who'd once been her anchor was now looking at her like she was the sun.
And Diya?
Diya wasn't sure she had any light left to give.
MADDY'S POV
He saw it before either of them did.
The way Harsh leaned into Diya's space like a flower turning toward sunlight. The way Diya let him—not with the same eager warmth she'd once reserved for Maddy, but with a quiet gratitude that hurt more than rejection ever could.
It was in the little things:
Harsh saving her a seat without being asked.
Diya absentmindedly fixing his collar when it folded wrong.
The comfortable silence between them that no longer needed words to feel complete.
Maddy watched it all with a sinking heart.
Because this wasn't just friendship.
This was the beginning of something more.
And he had no one to blame but himself.