Folder

As Alexander was dragged along by Anurag and Abhe, he noticed an unusual tension in the air. Krarth, usually so lively and brash, had a deep, unreadable frown on his face. Abhe and Anurag, meanwhile, were acting like they'd just watched a movie plot unfold in real life. Their smug glances and barely contained laughter set Alexander even more on edge. Something was clearly off.

"What happened?" Alexander asked, halting in place, his voice low and laced with suspicion.

Anurag and Abhe exchanged a glance, and then—as if on cue—they both burst out laughing. It was Abhe who finally blurted it out between chuckles.

"Krarth just proposed to Selene!"

Alexander froze.

The words hit him like a slap. For a second, his body refused to react. Then, slowly, he turned his head to look at Krarth. The lack of denial on Krarth's face—the way his eyes darted away—was all the confirmation Alexander needed.

It felt like someone had punched him in the chest.

Krarth muttered, "It was just a dare."

"And she said yes," Abhe added with a grin, oblivious or indifferent to the turmoil unfolding in Alexander's chest.

Krarth sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Abhe dared me. I didn't think she'd take it seriously. It was just a joke, man."

But Alexander wasn't laughing. He couldn't. He stared at them, face expressionless, but his insides twisted like someone had just cut into him. These were the guys he had grown up with. The people who were supposed to have his back. It didn't matter if it was a dare. It didn't matter if it was meant to be funny. To him, it wasn't.

He looked at Krarth a moment longer, as if waiting for some punchline, some magical undoing of the last thirty seconds.

But there was none.

Without a word, he turned away.

"Where are you going?" Anurag asked.

Alexander didn't even glance back. "To ask Selene myself."

His voice was emotionless—cold.

He spotted Selene near the student center. She was laughing with a couple of friends, unaware of the mess she'd walked into. She noticed him approaching and gave him a nod, surprised by his stiff posture.

"Hey," he said, forcing the words out. "Did Krarth propose to you?"

Selene raised a brow, clearly not expecting the directness. "Yeah," she said casually.

Alexander clenched his teeth, jaw tight. "And… did you say yes?"

She paused, then shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, it was a dare. Just harmless fun, y'know?"

Harmless.

He didn't reply. Just stood there, the weight of her nonchalance crashing down on him like a collapsing roof.

"Oh," was all he managed.

And then he turned and walked away.

He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to move. To breathe. To get away from them—from her—from it all.

The betrayal wasn't just in the proposal. It was in the laughter. The way no one even thought it might affect him. The way it was all a joke to them.

He walked aimlessly for a while before ending up under an old banyan tree at the edge of the university grounds. The world continued around him—birds chirped, students laughed, buses rumbled by—but inside, he felt nothing but silence.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped low, Krarth came to find him.

"Look, man…" Krarth began, hesitating. "It really was just a dare. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't think she'd actually say yes. Abhe just pushed me into it."

Alexander didn't look at him.

Krarth shifted uncomfortably. "I know I should've told you first. I just—things happened fast. I swear I wasn't trying to mess with you."

Alexander slowly turned to face him. His expression was calm. Too calm.

"Forget it," he said simply. Then walked away.

But he didn't forget it. He couldn't. That cold, twisting feeling in his chest—he shoved it deep down, like everything else. All he could do was bury it, for now.

The streets were quiet as he made his way home. The breeze had picked up, sending rustling whispers through the trees lining the sidewalk. A couple joggers passed him. The city, as always, moved on.

When he reached his house, something felt… strange.

The hallway light was on. A faint trace of his mom's cooking still lingered in the air. Groceries were stacked neatly on the counter, but the bags—some still full—sat beside the kitchen island like they'd just been dropped off.

"Mom? Dad?" he called.

No response.

He scanned the room. The sofa cushions were undisturbed, the front door locked. The house didn't feel empty, exactly—but it didn't feel lived in either. Like someone had been here… and left in a hurry.

On the dining table sat a brown folder. It lay slightly ajar, half-covered by a couple of his dad's miscellaneous papers. It wasn't labeled. Just looked like one of the files from the SSA office—his parents had gone there that morning.

Maybe they'd come back exhausted, placed it there and stepped out for a walk, figuring he'd be home late.

He stepped closer, frowning.

He wasn't even sure why, but something about the folder caught his attention. Maybe it was the way it had been carelessly placed. Maybe it was the silence in the house.

He reached for it.

And picked it up.