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Scene — A Familiar Shadow Among Colors
The college basketball court looked like a mini fair at the moment.
Chart papers were spread out on the ground. Sketch pens, glitter, open boxes of paint, and cold drink cans tucked in one corner.
But among all this, the one who drew the most attention — was Niki.
She was sitting on her knees, the sleeves of her light kurti rolled up to her elbows, a brush in hand — and her palms soaked in colors.
The tips of her fingers were stained with blue and pink — some dry, some still wet.
"Deepsi! Look, this line went crooked," she said with a smile.
"It's not crooked, it's creative," Deepsi replied, and the two burst into laughter.
But that laughter wasn't just any ordinary laugh — it was the same laughter that had once been stolen from her face.
And today... it had returned.
The breeze was gentle. A stray lock of hair kept falling over Niki's face. Annoyed, she pushed it back with her paint-smeared hand — and in that moment, a soft pink mark appeared across her forehead.
That color mark… might've been just color for everyone else.
But for someone, it was a knock from the past.
---
At the last row of the court…
A boy sat, dressed in a black hoodie, eyes fixed ahead.
He wasn't talking to anyone. He wasn't part of the scene.
Aditya.
For the first time in perhaps four years, he had seen Niki like this — laughing.
Her hands, her fingers, that lock of hair brushing against her cheek stained with paint — it all looked like a scene captured in slow motion.
For him, it wasn't an ordinary moment.
It was a complete past — laughing at him… and yet pulling him back in.
His fingers folded on their own. His gaze remained locked on her, and his facial muscles tightened in a strange unease.
He said nothing.
But his eyes… they spoke.
---
Niki had no idea he was there.
Or maybe… she did?
Who knows — sometimes shadows from the past return so silently, we choose to ignore them, knowingly.
But… where the chair now sits empty.
Aditya is gone.
In the corner of the college court, sunlight was falling directly.
Niki sat on the ground, her eyes fixed on the poster she had made —
filled with shades of pink and blue, as if the marks of her hands were writing a story on a blank sheet.
She looked at it fondly, then carefully placed it aside — to let it dry.
And began working on the next one.
Around her, paint cans, brushes, a water bottle, and a few cut-up tape strips were scattered.
She was lost in her own zone — when suddenly—
"Oh… sorry, I didn't see that."
A voice came — and a heavy step hit one of the cans.
The can flew straight — landing right onto the poster Niki was working on.
The blend of blue and black paint ruined her design in a split second.
Niki's eyes instantly shot up.
And there — stood Aditya.
Black hoodie, a faint cool smirk, and those eyes…
as if they always say something… and then say nothing at all.
Deepsi rushed in from behind, and sharply said,
"What did you just do? Can't you see?"
But her voice seemed to suddenly fade.
The blue paint was still smeared across the poster.
That once-blank sheet, carefully adorned by Niki's hard work — was now a blur.
But not a single crease touched Niki's face.
She set the brush down, gently ran her fingers across the spilled paint, and with a faint smile said,
"It's okay… I'll make it again."
There was a quiet firmness in her tone.
"You sure you're okay?" Deepsi asked with concern.
"I'm fine. If colors get ruined, we mix them again."
Niki replied — but not once did her gaze shift toward Aditya.
It was as if he didn't exist, even though she had seen him.
---
Aditya was still standing there.
But now, his attention wasn't on Niki — it had shifted to Deepsi.
"You're Deepsi, right?" he said, as if a memory had just clicked.
Deepsi blinked, slightly surprised, then smiled softly,
"Yeah… you remembered my name?"
"Who could forget your name?"
he said with a sly smile.
Deepsi blushed a little. She knew — Aditya was popular in college, and undeniably handsome.
His way of talking… could charm anyone.
She smiled back,
"By the way, you don't usually come here, do you?"
"Just felt like seeing some colors today,"
he said — but his eyes were still sneaking glances at Niki —
as if every answer was actually meant for her.
Niki had already begun working on a new poster. But her fingers were moving faster now.
Every brush stroke held a silent frustration.
The conversation between Deepsi and Aditya echoed just beside her.
"You're painting really well," Aditya said, now louder on purpose —
but he was looking at Niki.
Niki said nothing.
She knew — he was trying to get under her skin.
Still, she smiled — to herself.
And said, "Deepsi, hand me the brush."
Deepsi quickly turned from Aditya and passed the brush to her.
"By the way," Aditya said softly, "your friend is really focused… but she seems a little too serious."
Deepsi laughed,
"Yeah, she's a little different… but she's the best."
"I can see that," Aditya said — now looking straight at Niki.
---
There was something in his words —
something only Niki could hear.
Niki looked up.
Her eyes met Aditya's for a second.
Then without saying a word — she looked back down.
But now, her fingers didn't rush.
They moved with precision… and control.
Because she knew —
this battle was no longer in words,
it had to be fought in colors.
— Niki's POV —
The sun warmed the concrete under me, and my fingers were speckled with color — soft blue and streaks of pale pink.
One poster was almost done. The other? Ruined, thanks to him.
I sat alone now. Deepsi had drifted toward the bleachers — where, of course, Aditya was sitting. Talking. Laughing.
With her.
I wasn't jealous. Not really.
But something about the way he laughed only when I wasn't around—it made the silence next to me feel louder.
Then — footsteps.
Not rushed, not hesitant. Just... there.
"I think you need help," said a voice — warm, and familiar.
I looked up, blinking at the sun.
Aarav.
He stood there, a little amused, maybe a little curious — the kind of face that didn't try too hard to smile but still made you feel seen.
"Maybe I do," I said, my voice steadier than I expected.
Better than sitting here alone while Deepsi played social with him.
Aarav sat beside me, like it was the most normal thing in the world. No questions, no awkward pauses.
And suddenly, it felt okay — the space between us, the quiet company.
He reached for a brush without asking. Picked the right color like he'd read my mind.
I tilted my head and teased,
"I didn't know basketball guys could paint."
He chuckled, glancing sideways. "I didn't know art girls sat on courts and sulked."
I narrowed my eyes playfully. "I'm not sulking."
"Sure," he smirked. "That poster's just emotionally expressive."
I laughed — a real one this time.
Low and light, not loud. The kind of laugh that stays close to your chest.
We painted in rhythm after that — like we'd done it before, even though we hadn't.
Like he belonged there. Like I didn't have to pretend to be fine.
And in the distance,