The argument didn't end with words.
It stayed—in the silence, in the unread messages, in the hours that passed without a single call.
Aria lay on her bed that night, staring at the ceiling. Her phone rested beside her, untouched. She replayed the rehearsal again and again, wondering when frustration had turned into disappointment.
Five days.
That was all they had.
On the other side of the city, Arav sat by his window, phone in hand. He typed a message. Deleted it.Typed again.
This isn't working, he wrote.
Then erased it.
He didn't like confusion. And yet, that was exactly what this felt like.
The next morning, a message finally appeared on Aria's screen.
Arav:
We need to talk. Not argue. Talk.
She stared at the text for a long moment before replying.
Aria:
Okay.
They met again in the same space, but this time there was no music playing. No rush.
"Five days left," Arav said, breaking the silence. "If we do the same thing as everyone else, we'll disappear into the crowd."
Aria listened.
"I don't want that," he continued. "I want people to feel something."
She looked at him, surprised.
"That's what I wanted too," she said softly.
For the first time, they weren't standing on opposite sides.So," Arav said, "we try something different. Something that needs trust."
Aria hesitated.
Trust wasn't easy.
Especially with someone who spoke without softening his words.
But time was running out.
"Together," she said finally. "No control. No competition."
He nodded.
"Together."
They exchanged a look—not friendly, not cold.
Hopeful.As Aria walked away later, she felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
Five days suddenly didn't feel impossible anymore.
They felt… important