The bass thrummed through the polished floor of the Roshan College auditorium like a heartbeat that matched the frantic pulse in Meera's throat. Fairy lights hung everywhere in careless jhumar patterns, drowning the usual boring academic look in a warm, golden glow. It was freshers' night, the annual ritual where nervous first-years shed their awkward skins and seniors hunted with practiced, lazy smiles. Meera stood near a pillar, her new lehenga, a deep midnight blue, feeling both like a shield and a confession. The mirror in her hostel room had told her she was looking beautiful, the eyes of strangers in this swirling sea of silk and cologne now confirmed it, but all that attention only made her feel more adrift, more akeli.