The atmosphere in school shifted with the approaching annual cultural showcase. Posters brightened the dull corridors, music practices echoed from every corner, and for once, even the teachers looked slightly less strict. Everyone was participating—except Karthik.
He stood near the auditorium's entrance, watching students rehearse their group dance. The stage lights flickered on and off as seniors arranged props, yelling over each other. Laughter, chaos, color.
It felt like a world he didn't belong to.
But then, Ananya spotted him.
She waved, motioning him to come in. He hesitated. The idea of walking into that space—the very definition of social—filled him with unease. Still, his feet moved.
"Here to join us?" she asked playfully when he reached her.
"Absolutely not," he said, half-smiling. "I don't dance."
"You don't have to," she said. "There's a drama team. Or emceeing. Or even the art team. I saw the flyers you made last year for the literature fest—they were amazing."
Karthik looked away. "That's different. This is… too loud."
Ananya leaned in, whispering, "Even I get overwhelmed. But sometimes… stepping in is the only way to stop feeling like an outsider."
He met her eyes. "And what if I mess it up?"
"Then we laugh about it together," she said, smiling.
He sighed. "Fine. I'll think about it."
"Thinking doesn't count until you sign your name on the sheet," she said, pointing to a long list of names tacked on the board.
Karthik glanced at it. "You're relentless."
"I learned from the best," she said, nudging his arm lightly.
That afternoon, during free period, he found himself sitting in the art room, pencil in hand. He didn't even remember how he got there. Ananya had dragged him halfway before vanishing to attend her own practice.
Karthik began sketching casually at first—a few doodles, a rough design of the stage layout. Then something clicked. His lines grew more confident, his mind quieter.
Two juniors peered over his shoulder. "Anna, this is so cool! Can you help us design the event banner?"
Karthik froze. Being called Anna jolted him—it was the first time someone looked up to him, asked him for something outside of academics.
"I… guess I can," he muttered, and the two boys beamed.
Later that day, when he stepped out of the art room, his hands were stained with marker ink, but his heart felt oddly lighter.
Ananya was waiting for him near the school entrance, sipping a rose milk packet from the nearby canteen. She raised an eyebrow. "So, how was it?"
He shrugged. "Kind of fun."
"Kind of fun," she mocked. "From you, that's practically a declaration of joy."
They started walking together down the road. The sky above was a soft orange hue, the air warm but pleasant.
"You know," Karthik said after a moment, "I used to think being in the background was easier. Safer. But now… I'm not so sure."
Ananya looked at him, curious.
"Maybe being seen isn't so bad. Not if it's by the right people."
She smiled, her voice quiet. "I see you, Karthik."
And for the first time in years, he believed it.
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Chapter 93