The moment I stepped back into the hostel on Sunday, I knew I was in for it. Shahana and Priya were planted on my bed. Their eyes zeroed in on me, and I didn't need a mirror to know what they saw: yesterday's clothes, my slightly disheveled hair, the whole story written all over me.

Shahana's eyes lit up with undiluted glee. "Ooookay... I want every detail," she demanded excitemently. I just laughed, trying to play it cool, but my heart was already starting to race.

"Come on! Vineet told us you went to Alan's place," she pressed, leaning forward.

"Yeah, we deserve to know! I covered for your ass when the warden came to check the rooms," Priya chimed in, crossing her arms like she'd just presented irrefutable evidence in court.

I took a deep breath, clutching my bag. "There's really nothing to say," I insisted. "I talked to Alan about, you know, his alcohol... problem. And I stayed over so he wouldn't feel tempted to go to Mownika's party." It was the truth, but it felt flimsy saying it out loud.

"Did you sleep in his bed?" Shahana asked, utterly shameless, her eyes boring into me.

And just like that, the vivid memories flooded back. The feel of Alan's hands gently tangled in my hair, the warmth of his body curled around mine, the way our faces were so close I could feel his breath. A hot blush instantly crept up my neck and onto my cheeks. I could feel it burning.

"So?" Priya prodded, teasing but also curious. "Did you take over from Mownika?"

And just like that, all the warmth and the strange, tender excitement I'd been feeling deflated instantly, popped like a balloon. I rolled my eyes, suddenly feeling disheartened and a little sick.

"Well?" Shahana pressed again, not letting up.

"We are just friends," I said, my voice defensive now.

"With benefits, you mean," Priya quipped.

The two of them erupted into laughter. Was that all it had really been? Everything I had felt, the protectiveness, the care... it suddenly felt naive and foolish.

That night, long after the hushed gossip of the hostel had faded, I lay awake in the dark. I could still feel the ghost of his arms around me, the weight of his body against mine, the intimacy of waking up tangled together.

I reached for the small, leather-bound journal I kept hidden under my mattress. By the dim light of my phone, I flipped it open to a well-worn page titled Qualities of My Future Husband.

My eyes traced the previous entries. My pen hovered over the empty line for number ten.

#10. Physical intimacy should mean something to him.

The alarm blared at 6 AM and I felt a heavy, lead like weight pinning me to the bed.

Monday. College. I was sober. And without the haze, I felt like a fraud, failing at the one thing I was supposed to do. Maybe being a doctor wasn't for me. Maybe I should just quit.

I was still lying there, locked in a mental debate, when my phone started ringing. Fiza. I stared at it, letting it ring a few times, part of me wanting to ignore it. But I picked up.

"Hey!" Her voice was impossibly bright and bubbly. "I just wanted to make sure you were up!"

"Yeah," I grunted in a flat voice.

"I was thinking," she plowed on, completely ignoring my tone, "I'll come with you."

"Huh?"

"You know," she said matter of factly, "to meet with Dr. Kulshastra. About your scores."

A part of me wanted to refuse, to tell her I could handle my own mess. But a bigger, weaker part felt relieved at her offer.

"Okay, whatever," I muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

Later, I saw her before she saw me. She was sitting right at the front bench, her head turning every so often to scan the entrance. Waiting for me. When I finally slunk in, she waved, a small, encouraging smile on her face. I looked right through her and headed straight for the very back row. I couldn't handle her optimism right now. I just wanted to be invisible.

I slumped in my seat, trying to disappear into the wall. But as the lecture ended, the noise from around me shifted.

I looked up. Preet and Venkat were walking toward me, their expressions dark. Mownika's friends.

"You worthless piece of shit!" Preet spat, getting right in my face. "You think you can use people at your convenience and then discard them with a fucking text?"

I stood up. At 6'2", I towered over him. I could have shoved him back but a strange numbness settled over me. He wasn't wrong. So I just stood there, letting him say his piece.

And then I saw her. Fiza. She'd pushed her way through the gathering crowd and was standing there, stunned, her eyes wide. Seeing it all. Seeing me, just taking it. Well, this was what she got for believing in me. A front-row seat to me being called exactly what I was.

A small crowd was forming. Preet became louder, playing to his audience. "This scumbag was fooling around with one of our friends and decided to dump her like trash."

Then Vineet was there, inserting himself between us. "Break it up, guys."

And then came Fiza. Before I could process it, her hand was in mine. She didn't say a word. She just started walking, pulling me with her, guiding me straight out of that classroom, through the gawking crowd, and into the relative quiet of the hallway. I saw Vineet flash a worried look in our direction. But I followed, numb, letting her lead.

She didn't stop. Hand in hand, she led me past lecture halls, past the noisy mess, past the basketball court. She didn't stop until we reached the one place that had always felt like ours: the library.

"You are going to miss your physiology lecture," I muttered.

"I don't care," she said. She settled me at our usual bench and came back with two steaming cups of noodles. I took mine gratefully. I'd been in such a rush to just show up that I'd skipped breakfast entirely.

We ate in a comfortable silence. I kept stealing glances at her, searching her face for some sign of the girl who had slept in my arms, who had teased me that morning. But her expression was unreadable, calm and focused.

When we were done with our noodles, she finally spoke. "We knew it would be tough. The next few weeks."

I just nodded. She was right. My college friends were Mownika's friends. I had been so busy chasing highs, I hadn't bothered to try and connect with anyone else.

"But it will get better after that. I promise," she assured me. "I...I'll be with you."

And true to her word, she didn't leave my side. When we finally went to meet our Anatomy professor, she was right there with me. She gave my hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before we stepped into Dr. Kulshastra's office.

The professor looked up from his desk. I took a shaky breath and just... started talking. I laid it all bare—the drinking, the smoking, the parties, the sheer neglect. I didn't sugarcoat it. I admitted I'd thrown it all away and that the pathetic score on his exam was a direct consequence. "It was a wake-up call, Sir," I finished quietly. "I know that now."

Before the silence could stretch too long, Fiza stepped forward. "I'll make sure that he studies, Sir. I'll help him catch up on last term's syllabus too," she promised.

I braced for a lecture, or worse, a dismissal.

Instead, Professor Kulshastra's stern features softened. He let out a long sigh. "Things like this happen," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "The important thing is to recognize that you are going down the wrong path and take the right steps to correct yourself." He leaned forward. "You need to show me that you are serious about medical college. Show up to your classes and pay attention." Then he said something that lodged itself straight in my chest. "You are smart. When I scored your paper, I went back and checked your file. You have the potential to do really well. If you need help, you can always come to me."

It wasn't absolution, but it was a chance.

That night, I picked up my guitar. I didn't overthink it. I just hit record on my phone and sang. I poured all of it into the song—the shame, the relief, the fragile, terrifying hope. It wasn't perfect, but it was real.

I posted the reel on our "Aliza" account without a second thought.

Fiza, who still stubbornly refused to get her own Instagram, had no idea it was there. But she'd eventually find it or Shahana would show it to her.

"And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later, it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am."

It was in the cafeteria that Fiza saw the reel. Shahana practically shoved the phone in Fiza's face, her eyes wide with gossipy delight. And there I was, on screen, singing my guts out on our Aliza account. I watched Fiza's expression—the initial shock, the confusion, then something softer, more captivated. She was watching it. Again. And again.

A part of me wondered, a desperate, hopeful part: Was she getting it? Was she hearing what I was really trying to say? I made sure to log into my regular account and 'like' her "You Belong With Me" reel. Just so she'd know I'd acknowledged it for what it was.

The next few weeks were a blur of... structure. She crafted two painstaking detailed timetables—one for her, one for me. Our joint study sessions were non-negotiable. But she'd also penciled in time for basketball, which surprised me, and even an hour on weekends for music.

At first, the relatively free weekends made me nervous. But it was radio silence from Mownika's crew. I was officially off the guest list.

And the weirdest thing happened. I didn't hate studying anymore. Physiology was actually... cool. Understanding how the body worked, the intricate systems, it was like solving a complex puzzle. Biochemistry could still go to hell, but even that felt like a challenge I could maybe, possibly, overcome now. Because I had a reason to.

One afternoon, the words just came out of me. We were packing up our books. "I feel like I'm indebted to you, Fiza."

She didn't answer right away. She just sat there, thinking, her brow furrowed in that way it did when she was working on a particularly tough problem. Then she looked up, her expression dead serious. "I can take payment for helping you. That way, our relationship becomes a zero-sum game."

I burst out laughing. "What?" It was such a nerdy, calculated, Fiza thing to say. But then I saw it in her eyes—she wasn't joking.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a hushed tone, trying not to laugh. "What do you want?"

Fiza smile and her eyes lit up. "I want to try out for the girl's basketball team. Can you coach me?"

My laughter from before melted away, replaced by pure delight. Finally, I had something I could give her. A skill, not a problem. I nodded, a real, enthusiastic grin on my face. "But be warned," I teased, slipping into the role easily, "I'm a tough coach. No crying or whining allowed."

She nodded, her expression turning deadly serious, and I had to fight back another laugh at how earnestly she took my warning. Then, a hint of shyness crept into her posture. She bit her lip, looking up at me through her lashes. "Can you do one more thing for me?"

My eyes locked with hers. "Anything for you, Fiza."

A deep, beautiful blush colored her cheeks. She took a small breath. "Can you introduce me to Salman?"

For a second, I just stared, my brain scrambling to process the words. Salman? The guy from the college team? The one all the girls whispered about?

I had made assumptions. I had let the closeness of our study sessions, the intimacy of our music, the memory of her in my bed, paint a picture in my head that clearly existed only for me. My dreams had been consumed by her. But for her? I was just a friend. Maybe a project. A coach. A connector to someone else.

I forced a smile onto my face. "Sure."

If friendship was what she wanted, then that's what I would give her. I'd pack away every other feeling and be the best damn friend she'd ever had. It was the least I could do.

Author's note

Surprise surprise! Enter Salman.

How are you liking the story so far?

Sooooooo, Iris by Goo goo dolls is my all time favorite song. I used to think that I would fall for anyone who sang that to me. But then a random guy seated next to me on an airplane did sing it to me - I was too shy to exchange numbers back then and I was a little creeped out.

Link attached to my favorite acoustic cover.

Please vote and comment!

❤️Naina