Monday morning arrived with the kind of restless energy that only architecture departments can produce.

Students crowded near the studio door long before it opened. Someone had already written “PUNE?” in large letters on the whiteboard and underlined it three times. The air smelled of coffee, anticipation, and low-grade panic.

Aarohi walked in forty seconds late, which by her standards was almost early. Coffee steady. Drawings under one arm. Face carefully neutral.

Maya grabbed her wrist the moment she reached the table. “He’s going to announce it today.”

“I know.”

Kabir looked pale. “If we don’t get selected I’m changing my name and moving to another city.”

Neha patted his shoulder. “Dramatic. But understandable.”

Aarohi set her things down. “You’re all acting like this is a life-or-death verdict.”

Maya gave her a look. “For some of us it is.”

The door opened.

The room fell silent so quickly it was almost comical.

Arjun walked in, tablet in hand, expression as unreadable as ever.

She is here, he thought. Still carrying every unanswered question from Thursday. Still looking at me like I am both the problem and the only person who has the solution.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning, sir.”

Aarohi lifted her coffee. “Morning, Professor.”

His eyes met hers for a brief second. “Miss Sharma. Forty seconds late.”

“Personal record.”

“Still late.”

“I’m consistent.”

A few nervous laughs flickered and died.

Arjun placed the tablet on the front table and faced the class.

“I will keep this short. The two pairs selected for the Pune workshop are as follows.”

The silence became absolute.

“First pair — Kabir Mehta and Neha Joshi.”

Kabir made a sound that was half disbelief, half relief. Neha simply closed her eyes for a second and exhaled.

“Second pair — Aarohi Sharma and Maya Kapoor.”

For a moment no one moved.

Then Maya turned and silently hit Aarohi’s arm twice in pure victory.

Aarohi blinked, as if the words needed a second to settle.

Arjun continued without pause. “You will receive the brief and travel details by Wednesday. The rest of you — your work this semester was not wasted. Keep the same standard. Class will continue as usual. That is all.”

He picked up the tablet and began the day’s review as if he had not just rearranged four lives.

The room slowly recovered. Quiet congratulations moved between tables. A few disappointed faces tried to look supportive.

Maya leaned in, voice low and fierce. “We did it.”

Aarohi still looked slightly dazed. “He said our names like he was reading a grocery list.”

“That’s how he says everything. It still counts.”

Kabir turned around, grinning for the first time in days. “I’m buying breakfast. I don’t care if it’s only vada pav. We’re celebrating.”

Neha nodded. “After class. Don’t embarrass us before then.”

Arjun moved through the room with his usual calm. Corrections remained precise. The undercurrent, however, had shifted again. Every time he stopped near Aarohi’s table, a few extra glances followed.

When he finally reached them, Maya sat up very straight.

Arjun looked at the drawings they had brought. “You already started the next phase.”

Aarohi answered. “We didn’t want to lose momentum.”

“Good. Maintain it. The workshop brief will be denser than this project. Do not treat it like a holiday.”

Maya nodded quickly. “We won’t, sir.”

Arjun’s eyes moved to Aarohi. “Any questions?”

She met his gaze. “Only one. But it isn’t about the workshop.”

A short silence.

“Then it can wait,” he said.

“Until when?”

“Until it is appropriate.”

Maya looked between them, suddenly very interested in her pencil.

Arjun moved on.

Kabir waited until he was far enough. “What was that?”

Aarohi kept her eyes on the sheet. “Nothing.”

Neha raised an eyebrow. “That didn’t look like nothing.”

“It was nothing you need to know.”

Maya muttered, “I’m going to find out anyway.”

The rest of the class passed in a blur of short corrections and restless energy. When Arjun finally dismissed them, the selected pairs were immediately surrounded by a small crowd of congratulations and questions.

Aarohi answered on autopilot.

Only when most students had left did she walk to the front table.

Arjun was closing the tablet.

“Professor.”

He looked up. “Miss Sharma.”

“Congratulations on the excellent grocery-list delivery.”

“It was an announcement, not a performance.”

“It still worked.”

A small pause.

Aarohi lowered her voice. “We need to talk about Sunday.”

“Not here.”

“Then where? Because Sunday is six days away and my mother is already planning what I should wear.”

Arjun’s jaw tightened almost invisibly. “I will speak to your parents before then.”

“That’s not the same as speaking to me.”

“I am aware.”

She stepped half a step closer. “You told me it was decided years ago. You told me neither of us was asked. You told me you don’t have a choice. That’s all partial answers. I want the full one.”

Arjun held her gaze. “The full answer will change how you walk into that house. I would prefer you walk in with as much peace as possible.”

“I don’t want peace. I want clarity.”

“Clarity is coming.”

“From you?”

“Yes.”

Aarohi studied his face. “You’re protecting someone.”

“Yes.”

“Is it me?”

A longer silence.

“Among others,” he said quietly.

The honesty in those two words landed harder than any correction he had ever given her.

Aarohi looked away first, toward the empty drawing tables. “This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

“It does not have to be.”

“That’s what people say right before disasters.”

Arjun closed the tablet with a soft click. “Go celebrate with your friends, Miss Sharma. You earned the workshop.”

“And after that?”

“After that we deal with Sunday.”

She gave a short, tired breath that was almost a laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is not simple. It is necessary.”

Aarohi picked up her bag. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“On time.”

“I’ll try.”

“Do better than try.”

She almost smiled at the familiar line, then walked out.

In the corridor Maya, Kabir and Neha were waiting like a small interrogation committee.

Maya crossed her arms. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You stayed back. Again. And you both looked like you were discussing something heavier than joinery.”

Aarohi started walking. “We were discussing the workshop.”

Kabir fell into step beside her. “You’re a terrible liar when you’re actually bothered.”

Neha added, “Is this about the family dinner?”

Aarohi stopped walking for half a second, then continued. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

Maya’s voice softened. “But there is something.”

“Yes,” Aarohi admitted. “There is something. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

They reached the canteen in silence.

Inside the empty studio, Arjun stood alone at the front table, tablet closed under his hand.

Six days, he thought.

She is pushing harder. She deserves to. And I am running out of clean places to keep the truth.

He looked once at the chair she had left slightly turned out, then turned off the lights.

Outside, the four of them sat around a canteen table with cold coffee and unfinished sentences.

Aarohi stared at her cup and finally spoke, more to herself than to anyone else.

“Whatever happens on Sunday… I have a feeling nothing in that studio is going to feel the same afterward.”

Maya reached across and squeezed her hand once.

No one argued.

Some announcements, it seemed, were only the beginning of much louder things.