The festival night had arrived, bringing with it an air of excitement, bright lights, and an infectious energy that coursed through the entire campus. The university's outdoor stage was adorned with colourful banners, and the audience, consisting of students and faculty, buzzed with anticipation. Among them sat the group, eager to watch their friends perform.
Komal and Akansha were up first, participating in the traditional dance category. As their names were announced, the group erupted into cheers.
"Let's go, Komal! Akansha, make Uttarakhand proud!" Shumaila shouted, earning a playful glare from Komal as she took the stage.
The rhythmic beats of the Pahadi music filled the air, and the girls began their performance, moving with grace and precision. Their vibrant attire, adorned with intricate embroidery and colorful scarves, swayed with their fluid movements. The audience clapped along, enchanted by the beauty of the traditional dance. Siddarth, unable to hold back, whistled loudly when Komal twirled effortlessly, her anklets jingling in sync with the rhythm.
"That's my girl!" he called out proudly, making Komal momentarily falter before regaining her composure.
Shumaila smirked, nudging Siddarth. "Didn't take you for a simp, but go off."
Siddarth grinned unabashedly. "What can I say? Talent is attractive."
Meanwhile, Aarav was entirely focused on Akansha, phone in hand, recording every second. Rudra, catching sight of this, leaned in with a teasing smirk. "Bro, you're recording this like a die-hard fan."
Aarav didn't even look away from his screen. "Shut up."
Rudra turned to Shumaila and Siddarth. "He's so whipped."
Shumaila and Siddarth burst into laughter as the performance ended with a dramatic flourish. The audience erupted into applause, and the girls bowed gracefully before running offstage, breathless but beaming with happiness.
The night moved forward, leading to Sneha's stand-up comedy act. As she took the mic, she scanned the crowd confidently before starting her set.
"You know, university life is wild," she began. "One moment you're a happy, carefree fresher, and the next thing you know, you're crying over a 20% attendance warning and questioning all your life decisions."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"I mean, let's be real—professors have an unmatched sense of humor. 'Oh, don't worry, this exam is easy,' they say. Next thing you know, you're staring at a question that looks like it was written in another language."
The audience roared with agreement, some students clapping enthusiastically.
"And let's not even talk about group projects! Professors think they're teaching us teamwork, but really, they're just teaching us how to do all the work while three other people disappear off the face of the earth."
The group clapped and laughed along with the crowd, Sneha's natural charisma drawing everyone in. She wrapped up her performance with a cheeky bow, basking in the applause before joining the group again.
As the night progressed, a new energy settled over the crowd. The host announced the next act, and Hamza's name flashed across the screen.
Shumaila, who had been relaxed until now, stiffened slightly.
Hamza walked onto the stage, adjusting the mic stand. The dim lights and soft strumming of his guitar created an intimate atmosphere. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"This one's for someone special," he said, his deep voice carrying over the hushed crowd. "I hope she's listening."
A few murmurs spread among the audience, but the group knew exactly who he was talking about. Shumaila, for the first time in a long while, felt completely exposed.
Then, Hamza began to sing.
"Hairaan hoon ki kuch bhi na maangoon kabhi main
Jo tum mere ho"
The moment the lyrics left his lips, a ripple of emotion spread across the venue. His voice was rich, filled with raw sincerity, each note carrying a depth that made it impossible to look away.
"Aur aaoge, aise aaoge
Teri-meri kya ye raahein yoon judi hain?"
He wasn't just performing—he was confessing, pouring every unsaid word into the song.
"Aur raahon mein hi jo tum aaye kabhi
Ham to pyaar se hi mar jaayeinge"
Shumaila sat frozen in her seat, unable to tear her eyes away. Her heart pounded in her chest as Hamza's gaze locked onto hers, unwavering, unashamed. She could feel her face heating up, but she couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
Komal, sitting beside her, placed a hand on Siddarth's arm. "This is… different," she whispered, watching the way Hamza's eyes softened whenever he looked at Shumaila.
Siddarth, for once, didn't have a teasing remark. He only nodded, watching the moment unfold with an understanding expression.
"Chaahe hon chhaaye bhi baadal to
Chaahein phir bhi tumhein, kya pata tum ko?
Maangoon na kuch aur jo
Tum mere ho"
As Hamza sang the final lines, his voice dropped into a hushed, almost pleading tone, filled with something raw and unfiltered. When the music faded, silence lingered for a few seconds before the audience erupted into cheers. But Shumaila barely registered the sound.
Hamza stepped back from the mic, his expression unreadable, but his next words sent another shock through her.
"I hope you know what you mean to me."
The group turned to Shumaila at once.
Rudra grinned. "Damn, that was smooth."
Sneha smirked. "Shumaila, anything to say?"
Shumaila snapped out of her daze, her face burning. "Shut. Up."
Siddarth raised a brow. "Oh, she's flustered. This is a first."
Akansha leaned in closer. "So, when are you confessing back?"
Shumaila groaned, covering her face with her hands as the group erupted into laughter. Hamza, now back at the table, sat with a satisfied smirk, watching her suffer under their teasing.
The night carried on with laughter, performances, and a lightness that had been missing for far too long. But amidst all the joy, one truth remained undeniable—something had shifted between Hamza and Shumaila, and there was no going back.