A Silent Battle Between Hearts
Tension & A Rescue
Shristi sat in the empty auditorium, staring at the list of festival tasks in front of her. The sheer amount of work weighed on her shoulders, and a sigh escaped her lips.
Her phone buzzed. Wick.
"Be ready in five minutes. I'll pick you up."
Shristi frowned at the abrupt message but grabbed her bag and left without question.
When she got into the car, she immediately launched into her concerns. "So first, we have to order flowers in bulk. Then for the poster, I think we should add two individuals—one boy and one girl. Then there's the lighting, after that—"
Wick, who was maneuvering the car through the busy streets, interrupted her. "Okay, okay, wait. I'll manage everything. Don't stress about it."
Shristi blinked at him. "Huh?"
Wick smirked slightly. "Annu and Varsha will handle the flowers. Dimpy and Trisha will take care of the lighting. You only have to focus on the poster."
Shristi was taken aback. "How did you plan all this so suddenly?"
Wick shrugged. "That's my way of working."
Before she could process his efficiency, Wick handed her his iPad. "If you haven't decided the design yet, take a look. Maybe you'll get some ideas."
Shristi's eyes widened as she scrolled through the screen. The designs were stunning—each one elegant yet powerful. "These are… amazing."
Wick didn't reply. Instead, he turned the car towards an unfamiliar road.
"Where are we going?" she asked, curiosity creeping into her voice.
"To The Monarch's exclusive showroom."
---
The Monarch's Showroom – A World of Elegance
Shristi stepped inside and immediately felt overwhelmed. This wasn't just a store—it was a masterpiece in itself. Luxurious chandeliers, plush interiors, and the most breathtaking collection of dresses she had ever seen.
"This place is…" she trailed off, lost in awe.
Wick nodded toward the mannequins, dressed in the top ten collections in the world. "You should pick a dress—for the model in the poster. And for yourself."
Shristi turned to him, confused. "I've never visited this showroom before. These dresses… they're made with such pure elegance."
Wick's lips curved into a slight smirk. "Then try one. Any one you like."
Shristi hesitated before finally letting herself be drawn into the moment. The manager, following Wick's silent command, began showing her every exclusive piece.
Meanwhile, she called Principal Sinha to discuss the poster's central figures.
The principal's voice was firm. "Both you and Wick will be the face of this tournament. You two will be on the poster."
Before she could respond, the line disconnected.
Shristi turned to Wick. "The principal said we should be on the poster."
Wick simply shrugged. "Alright. No problem."
Shristi raised a brow. "You're okay with it?"
"Yeah, I am."
Smiling slightly, she picked out a dress. "Then let's try these."
Wick chose one as well. When they stepped out of the fitting rooms, the world seemed to pause.
The fabric clung to them perfectly—like it was made for them.
Shristi stared at him, words escaping her. Wick, for the first time in a long while, looked almost… regal.
Before the moment could settle, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"What are you doing here, Vikram?"
---
Shristi turned to see a well-dressed man in his forties striding toward them. His sharp gaze landed on her with disapproval.
"Who is she?" he asked, voice laced with authority.
Before Wick could speak, Shristi stepped forward. "I'm Shristi. Nice to meet you."
Vidhan barely acknowledged her. Instead, he looked back at Wick, his expression turning cold.
"Keep your friendships inside the college, not in my store."
Shristi stiffened. The dismissiveness in his tone stung more than she expected.
Wick remained silent, his jaw tightening.
Vidhan's gaze flickered to the dress she was wearing. "And that dress—" he exhaled sharply. "It hasn't even been launched yet. And you let her touch it?"
Shristi lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling out of place. But before she could step away, Wick's voice sliced through the air.
"I don't care if it was launched or not." His voice was dangerously calm. "I'll do whatever I want. And she will wear this dress. If anyone has the courage, they can try and stop me."
Vidhan's eyes narrowed. "Do you even know how expensive that is?"
Wick's lips curled into something between amusement and defiance. "Say another word, and I'll transfer the ownership of this showroom to her."
Vidhan froze.
Wick took a step closer, his voice dropping into something lethal. "And Uncle Vidhan—don't ever think about disrespecting her again."
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Shristi's hand and walked out.
---
A Silent Distance
The drive back was quiet. Shristi kept sneaking glances at him, seeing the storm still lingering in his eyes.
Finally, she broke the silence. "You didn't have to fight like that. And the way you spoke to your uncle… it was too much."
Wick kept his eyes on the road. "I don't know what I was doing." His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "But I can't stand anyone disrespecting you like that."
A warmth spread through Shristi's chest. She smiled slightly. "Thank you, then."
Wick didn't respond.
And soon, a change started.
During the festival preparations, Wick began keeping his distance.
He no longer sought her out. No longer lingered beside her.
He was avoiding her.
The college grounds were eerily quiet, the echoes of the fest preparations now faded into the night. Inside the auditorium, only two figures remained — Shristi, meticulously wrapping up paperwork, and Wick, silently arranging the last of the stage props. They hadn't spoken much all evening. His presence was steady but cold, like a shadow that lingered but never truly touched her.
During the festival preparations, Wick began keeping his distance.
He no longer sought her out. No longer lingered beside her.
He was avoiding her.
Shristi stole glances at him, hoping he'd say something — anything. But once the final checklist was done, Wick simply picked up his jacket, gave a brief nod, and turned to leave without a word.
Her chest tightened. Seriously? Just like that?
Moments later, with a frustrated sigh, she dialed Annu.
"Your friend is a complete idiot," she snapped, pacing in the empty corridor. "He helped the whole evening, stayed back, saw it was late... and didn't even bother to ask if I needed a drop. He seriously has no feelings or even basic common sense."
Annu's sleepy voice came through, amused. "Na na, calm down, madam. He did call me — like half an hour ago. Asked me to come along so we could drop you together."
Shristi frowned. "Then?"
"I was busy. So, he told me—" Annu's voice paused just as a faint rev of an engine echoed through the quiet night.
A headlight washed over the corridor entrance, casting a long shadow before a familiar black bike came to a slow halt outside.
Annu chuckled. "Told me he'll come alone instead. Must be there now, right?"
Shristi turned. There he was — Wick, sitting on his bike, one hand casually gripping the handlebar, the other resting in his lap. His expression unreadable under the flickering campus lights, but his eyes met hers with a quiet intensity.
He didn't say anything. Just tilted his head slightly, a silent gesture that said "Come on."
Shristi blinked. Her anger dissolved into a chaotic blend of guilt, confusion, and something warmer.
She didn't move immediately.
On the phone, Annu added softly, "He's an idiot, yes. But not in the way you think."
Shristi ended the call without replying, walked up to the bike, and sat behind him — without a word.
And Wick, still not looking back, simply murmured under his breath, "Hold tight. It's cold tonight."
And for once, silence said more than words ever could.
Later same night, when they found Wick alone, Annu crossed her arms. "Okay, what's going on?"
Wick didn't look up. "Nothing."
Nick frowned. "You're ignoring Shristi."
Wick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know… I let her in. And now I'm thinking that I'm not good for her."
Nick and Annu exchanged glances.
Annu scoffed. "Dumbo. Stop overthinking and take care of her."
But Wick only looked away, the war within him growing stronger.
To be continued...