More Than Just Us

Episode 3 – Breaking Points

The fallout from Kabir’s party rippled for days. Classes felt heavier, friendships quieter. Aarav hadn’t spoken to Ridhi since that night, and Meera avoided eye contact as if every glance might explode into something neither of them was ready for.

Kabir, of course, didn’t avoid anything. He cornered Aarav by the parking lot one afternoon.

“You think you’re some hero, don’t you?” Kabir sneered, stepping too close. “Making speeches, trying to win her over.”

Aarav clenched his fists. “I don’t need to ‘win’ her. She’s not a trophy.”

Kabir laughed bitterly. “Please. You’ve been pining for years. Do you even know what she wants? Or are you just projecting your own fairytale?”

The words cut deep because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Before Aarav could answer, Meera walked up, her voice cold. “Both of you, stop.”

She looked from Kabir to Aarav, disappointment clouding her face. “I’m not a prize to fight over. I’m a person. And right now, I’m exhausted of both of you.”

And then she walked away.

Kabir smirked. “Congrats, lover boy. You’re sinking just as fast as me.”

---

That evening, Aarav sat at his desk, staring at his phone. He wanted to call Meera, to explain, to undo everything. Instead, he dialed Ridhi.

She didn’t answer the first time. Or the second. On the third ring, she finally picked up.

“What do you want, Aarav?” Her voice was sharper than he’d ever heard.

“Ridhi… I didn’t mean for you to hear it like that.”

“You didn’t mean for me to hear the truth?” she snapped.

He froze. “It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.” Her tone cracked, softer now. “I’ve stood by you since we were kids. Through every crush, every heartbreak. And all this time, I thought maybe… maybe you’d see me. But you never do.”

Her words hit harder than Kabir’s fists ever could.

“Ridhi…” His throat burned. “I do see you. I just—”

“Don’t,” she whispered, and hung up.

For the first time in years, Aarav felt utterly alone.

---

Two days later, Meera texted him: Meet me. Seaface, 7 PM.

When he arrived, she was already there, sitting on the sea wall, waves splashing below. The sunset cast her face in golden light, but her expression was heavy.

“I don’t know what’s happening anymore,” she said, voice low. “Kabir, you, London, everything. I feel like I’m standing in two worlds and neither feels right.”

Aarav sat beside her, the salty air thick between them. “Then choose the one that feels like home.”

Her eyes met his, searching, trembling. For a moment, Aarav thought she would say his name. Instead, she whispered, “What if home keeps changing?”

Before he could answer, Kabir’s car pulled up behind them, music blasting. He leaned out the window, grin too wide. “Meera! Let’s go. Party at Juhu.”

Meera flinched. Aarav stood. “She doesn’t want to.”

Kabir smirked. “You don’t get to decide for her.”

The tension snapped like a string pulled too tight. Aarav’s anger boiled, but before he could step forward, Meera rose between them.

“Enough! Both of you,” she shouted. Her voice cracked, but it was louder than the waves. “I’m leaving in ten days. And if this is what my last days here look like—two idiots fighting over me—I’d rather go without saying goodbye.”

She stormed off down the promenade, leaving both boys speechless.

---

Later that night, Aarav sat on his terrace, head in his hands. His phone buzzed. Ridhi again.

The message read: Maybe love isn’t about who wins. Maybe it’s about who stays when it all falls apart.

Aarav stared at the words, realizing Meera was slipping through his fingers, Kabir was an obstacle he couldn’t ignore, and Ridhi—the one who had always stayed—was drifting away too.

And in that moment, Aarav understood: his 20s weren’t about certainty. They were about breaking, choosing, losing, and sometimes… holding on even when everything told you to let go.