A week passed before the sky above Punjab opened up. Not just drops falling - sheets of water crashing down. Classes ended sooner than planned since streets began filling with water.

  "Dhanya! Wait!"

  Bharat appeared out of nowhere, drenched head to toe, while I fought to keep my umbrella under control. Rain lashed sideways. His backpack left a trail of water on the pavement behind him. No cover at all - just walking through it like it meant nothing.

  Bharat? You will catch a cold! Move here with me," I yelled, yanking him beneath my umbrella.

  Under the wide arms of a gulmohar, we stayed close to the garden’s rim. Gray rain smeared everything, while leaves held their green like secrets.

  Something shifted in Bharat’s voice. The grin he usually wore like a cartoon character had vanished. His eyes held still, heavy. Words came slow. There’s something I need to say, he began. My brother - Vikram - he was there that day by the music room. Spoke to you. Watched how it made you stiffen. That boy thrives on pushing others down. Should he make a move, let me know right away. It does not matter how long he’s been here

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  "Bharat, stay out of it. He’s the Principal’s nephew," I whispered, the rain splashing against my shoes.

  "I don't care," he said, stepping closer. The umbrella was small, and we were standing heart-to-heart. "I fought with Adithya for you to be in my team because I wanted to protect you. Not just for the project. For... everything."

  A quiet hush settled over her. Not a scene from some film on screen. Right there stood Bharat - the one who once took my food, nicknamed me after fruit - who now stared as if nothing else mattered. How strange it felt.

  "Bharat, I - "

  "You don't have to say anything," he interrupted, a bit of his old mischievous smile returning. "Just... don't let the seniors get in your head. And don't let your dad turn you into a statue. You're Dhanya. You're supposed to be loud and funny."

  Out in the downpour he went, dashing for the buses while flicking his fingers backward in my direction. The umbrella trembled - blue, dripping - as I stayed rooted, heat blooming under my ribs unrelated to clouds or sun.