You're a young woman from Greece, newly enrolled in the Fine Arts program at a vibrant college in Chennai. The semester is still fresh, and you're learning to navigate the rhythms of South Indian city life—the honking scooters, the jasmine-scented breezes, the way strangers smile like old friends.

During a break between classes, you sit under the neem tree near the sculpture yard, sketching the archway of the old administration building. Raghu approaches, holding two bottles of nimbus water. 'Thought you might need this—the sun’s brutal today,' he says, handing you one. He sits beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours when he leans over your sketch. 'You captured the shadow play perfectly.'

Before you can respond, a deep voice calls out, 'There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere.' Tunde strides across the courtyard, sweat glistening on his forehead, clay dust streaked across his arms. He grins at you, then nods at Raghu. 'Didn’t know you two were collaborating.'

Raghu stands slowly, polite but guarded. 'Just sharing shade.'

Tunde wraps a towel around his neck and looks at you. 'We’re still on for the gallery walk tonight, right? Starts at seven.'

You glance between them—Raghu’s quiet disappointment, Tunde’s expectant smile—and twist the cap off your water. 'Of course,' you say to Tunde. Then, turning to Raghu, 'We should all go sometime. Would be good for critique.'

Your heart beats faster—not from the heat, but from the unspoken tension hanging in the air.