By the time Aryan and Preetham reached the staircase, the corridor outside Class 5-B had thinned. Most students had already headed to the auditorium for the senior orientation. The hum of voices drifted from upstairs — louder, sharper, older.
Aryan pressed his fingers lightly to his temple again.
The headache hadn't stopped since morning. It came in waves — sharp enough to blur a few steps, gentle enough to pretend he was fine.
Preetham walked beside him, adjusting his backpack straps. "Da… if you don't want to attend, tell ma'am. You're looking tired."
"I'm fine," Aryan said.
It wasn't convincing.
It wasn't meant to be.
They climbed the stairs.
The auditorium had already filled with seniors from Classes 7 and 8. Some sat in neat rows. Some stood chatting near the back. A few sport students were balancing a basketball between their feet while pretending to listen.
Right in the center of it all stood Tanushri.
Class 8.
Sarasvathi High's senior-most topper.
Confident without needing to show it.
A girl whose smile made people naturally drift toward her.
She was explaining something to a group of juniors when her eyes accidentally swept toward the entrance.
She froze.
Then brightened.
"ARYAN!" she called, waving both arms high.
"Here! Come here!"
A few heads turned.
Aryan stiffened.
Spotlight.
Attention.
He hated that.
But she was his sister.
So he walked.
Preetham followed quietly.
Tanushri reached them first, pulling Aryan into a half-hug. "How are you, kanna? You look tired."
"I'm fine Akka," Aryan replied, his default line.
Preetham betrayed him instantly.
"No he's not, akka," he said. "He's had a headache since morning."
Aryan shot him a quiet glare — the "seriously, da?" kind.
Tanushri's face tightened with worry. "Again? Did you take a tablet? Did you tell Amma?"
"It's… normal," Aryan muttered.
"It's NOT normal," she said firmly. "You don't get headaches like other kids."
Her tone softened again. "Come… sit with me."
She guided both of them toward the corner seats.
"Today was your domain selection, right?" she asked while sitting down. "What did you guys choose?"
Preetham answered. "Me — Science. Him—"
"Business and Management," Aryan finished.
Tanushri blinked.
"You—what?"
Aryan nodded once.
She leaned back, processing it. "That's… unexpected. But okay. If you chose it seriously, then I'm proud."
Her expression changed — shifting into something older, wiser.
"You know what that path is like, right? It's the corporate world. Pressure. Presentation. Real-time decisions. Projects from DHARA. If you panic even once—"
"I know," Aryan said quietly.
"Do you?" she asked gently.
Aryan didn't answer.
So she continued, explaining the world he had stepped into.
"Business and Management is not like the others. Science builds models. Arts performs. Sports plays. But we—"
She tapped her chest.
"—we run everything."
Her voice lowered.
"It's real corporate work. Real deadlines. Real stress. DHARA wants to see how you lead, how you think, how you handle failure. Scholarship amounts are high — that's why schools push it."
Aryan listened, his face steady but the pain behind his eyebrow growing sharper.
He breathed slowly.
Calm.
Controlled.
Tanushri noticed.
"Hey…" she softened her tone. "If it's too much, I'll slow down."
"No," Aryan said. "I want to know."
She smiled — warm, proud.
"That's my brother."
Then her voice lowered again.
"You must have a reason to choose this domain. Not everyone chooses this unless they have a goal."
Aryan looked away.
The reason drifted like old memory — Meenakshi drawing Doraemon on the first page of her notebook… and a silent moment he owed her.
"For that unfinished battle," he murmured.
"And… for a better future."
Tanushri's lips parted slightly.
"Aryan…"
But he didn't continue.
He didn't need to.
Behind them, juniors chattered. Seniors compared last year's projects. A teacher tested the mic. Someone from DHARA arranged files on the table.
Life moved around him.
Only his head pulsed like a dull drum.
Tanushri understood something without him saying it.
"You don't have to be anyone else," she said quietly.
"You don't have to match anyone. Not even the girl you're thinking about."
Aryan didn't react, but his fingers tightened on his knee.
"And listen," she added, brushing his hair aside like she did when he was five.
"No matter what domain you choose… you're not alone."
He looked at her — just for a second.
She smiled again — the kind of smile that made even a breaking head feel lighter.
"Orientation is about to start," she said. "Sit beside me."
He nodded.
Preetham, who had been listening quietly, leaned in. "Da… if you faint, I'll tell ma'am you were trying to act cool."
Aryan almost sighed. "I won't faint."
"Okay," Preetham said. "Then I'll just say you were acting dramatic."
Despite everything, Aryan's lips twitched — the closest he came to a smile in public.
The lights dimmed.
The projector flickered to life.
And Aryan, head pounding, eyes steady, sat straight.
Ready for the world he had chosen.
Ready for a battle only he understood.