The clock struck six.
Nandini entered the rehearsal room, expecting silence.
But Manik was already there — guitar in hand, back to her, strumming a slow, hypnotic riff.
Not aggressive. Not chaotic. Just… haunting.
He didn't turn when she entered.
She walked to her corner, unpacked her violin, and began tuning in quiet.
The tension was different today.
It wasn't heavy.It was sharp.Clear.Deliberate.
Two instruments. Two people.And the air between them — thin as a wire, stretched too tight.
They started without a word.
He played first — a low, echoing chord.
She responded — a gentle note that wrapped around his, softened it.
Then again.Him.Her.Faster now.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Until suddenly…They weren't responding to each other.They were playing together.
One rhythm. One storm.
His strumming grew deeper, bolder.Her strings climbed higher, trembling with grace.
It was not music.
It was confession.
When the last note died, neither moved.
Sweat clung to her forehead.His chest rose and fell.
They were both breathing too hard for just a song.
Manik set his guitar down.
"You changed the harmony," he said, voice quiet.
"It needed to feel real."
"You think I'm not real?"
She turned to him slowly.
"I think you're always hiding behind noise. But today… you weren't."
Manik stepped closer.
There was no smirk this time.No challenge.Just heat.
"I wasn't hiding," he said. "I was listening."
Her breath caught.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
And for the first time — she didn't stop him.
His hand lingered.
So did her eyes.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
She didn't speak.
But she didn't step away.
Then the door opened.
Alya.
She froze.
Eyes took in the scene. The closeness. The stillness. The near-touch.
Nandini stepped back immediately. Manik didn't flinch.
"I didn't realize this was a duet," Alya said, her voice cold, clipped.
"We were rehearsing," Nandini said quickly.
Alya smiled, slow and poisonous. "Of course you were."
She turned and left — heels clicking like a countdown.
Nandini grabbed her violin case.
"We shouldn't do this again."
Manik didn't stop her.
Not because he agreed.
But because he knew she was lying.