Backstage Madness — Rhea's POV
The moment I stepped backstage, all dignity left my body.
Samar grabbed my shoulders like a sports commentator.
"SHE LIVED."
Neel clapped way too loudly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our contestant has returned with all limbs intact."
I dropped onto a chair, laughing and half-breathless.
"I hate all of you."
"No you don't," Samar said proudly. "You love us. Trauma-bonded."
Yuhan handed me a bottle of water.
"Drink. You're shaking."
I took it, gulped, then immediately choked when Samar added,
"From nervousness or from seeing Kabir in the audience?"
"I WILL END YOU."
Kabir, who had been standing quietly near the props, raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't do anything."
Neel grinned. "Exactly. That's the problem."
Kabir shook his head, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. Rare. Dangerous.
Samar leaned closer to him.
"Bro, review time. Stage presence?"
Kabir thought for a second.
"Strong."
I blinked. "That's it?"
He shrugged. "You asked."
Yuhan smirked.
"Translation: he was impressed but refuses to elaborate."
Kabir shot him a look.
"Stay in your lane."
"Oh, I am," Yuhan replied calmly. "Front row."
Someone backstage tripped over a wire.
Samar gasped dramatically. "Symbolic. That was almost you."
I threw a scrunchie at his face.
Neel suddenly whispered, "Guys. Serious question."
We all looked at him.
"If Rhea wins… do we get credit?"
"NO," I yelled.
Kabir chuckled. Actually chuckled.
Samar froze. "Did you hear that?"
Neel whispered reverently, "Miracle."
The announcer's voice echoed faintly from outside. Results would be announced soon.
For a second, everything went quiet.
Then Samar broke it.
"Okay but listen—if you don't win, we still bully Aditi, right?"
"Obviously," Yuhan said.
Kabir nodded once. "Fair."
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Standing there—hair messed up, nerves gone, surrounded by idiots and quiet supporters—I realized something:
Backstage wasn't scary.
Backstage was home.
And whatever happened out there on that stage…
I wasn't alone for it.
That made all the difference. 💛
The Announcement
They called the names.
Third place.
Second place.
First place.
Not mine.
For a second—just one tiny second—my chest felt hollow. Like the air had slipped out without warning. The claps around me sounded distant, muffled, as if I was underwater.
Then Samar leaned toward me and whispered,
"Okay but tell me honestly… did you see Aditi's walk?"
Neel added immediately,
"She walked like the floor owed her money."
I snorted.
Just like that, the heaviness cracked.
I clapped. Properly. Smiled. Properly. Even whistled once when Samar nudged me. And I realized something as the applause continued—
I wasn't angry.
I wasn't embarrassed.
I wasn't even sad.
I had walked onto that stage with shaking hands and walked off with my head high. I didn't freeze. I didn't run. I didn't hide.
I tried.
And that mattered more than a title.
Kabir didn't say anything. He never did in moments like these. But when I glanced at him, he met my eyes and gave the smallest nod—quiet, steady, like he was saying you did enough.
Backstage, the noise returned. Laughter. Complaints. Samar declaring he would "boycott pageants forever." Neel asking if participation certificates came with food.
Yuhan simply said,
"You handled it well."
I smiled. A real one.
Because not every battle is meant to be won.
Some are meant to be faced.
And maybe strength isn't about standing on a podium.
Maybe it's about standing there even when you don't.
I walked out of the auditorium lighter than I walked in.
Not a winner.
But definitely not a loser either.
Home, Where Peace Goes to Die
I should've known.
The moment I stepped inside the house, still emotionally fragile, still processing my very mature acceptance of loss, the universe decided—
"Ah yes. Let's humble her."
Mom was already in the kitchen.
Dad was reading the newspaper like it personally offended him.
And my elder brother—the root of all irritation—was sprawled on the sofa, legs up, existing for no reason.
Mom looked at me once.
Just once.
"So?" she asked casually.
"Did you win?"
I hesitated. "No."
She nodded slowly.
"Hmm. Okay."
I relaxed—
Too soon.
"At least you didn't trip," she added.
I stared at her.
"That was… unnecessary."
My brother immediately sat up.
"Ohhh, she didn't win?" he said loudly, like the neighbors needed to know.
"Pageant mein participation certificate milta hai ya sirf experience?"
"YOU—" I pointed at him. "—were born to test my patience."
Dad folded his newspaper.
"You danced?"
"Yes."
"In front of everyone?"
"Yes."
"And still didn't win?"
I sighed. "Yes."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Confidence acha hai. Result thoda kamzor."
I walked straight into my room and dramatically fell onto the bed.
Mom followed.
"But you looked nice, right?"
"Yes."
"Hair was proper?"
"Yes."
"Smile?"
"Yes."
"Then kya problem tha?"
I muffled my scream into the pillow.
My brother leaned against the doorframe.
"Maybe judges were blind," he said.
"Or jealous," he added helpfully.
"Or scared of your talent."
"Get out."
He didn't.
"Waise," he continued, "your friends came to drop you. That tall quiet one—"
"KABIR," I yelled. "DON'T."
Mom's ears perked up immediately.
"Oh?" she smiled. "Kabir?"
"No."
"Yes."
"No discussion."
Dad peeked in.
"Achha ladka lagta hai," he said thoughtfully.
"Polite."
I sat up.
"WHY IS EVERYONE OBSERVING HIM?"
Mom shrugged.
"Bas dekh rahe the."
My brother grinned.
"He carried her bag."
TRAITOR.
Mom gasped dramatically.
"BAG?"
Dad raised an eyebrow.
"Bag uthane ka matlab samajhte ho na?"
"I WILL MOVE OUT," I announced.
Mom laughed.
"Drama queen. Chai pee le."
We all sat down later—chai, biscuits, the usual post-event interrogation.
"So," Mom said, stirring sugar, "you didn't win."
I nodded.
She looked at me properly this time.
"But you went on stage."
I blinked.
"That's new," she continued. "Earlier you would've made excuses."
Dad nodded.
"Har cheez jeetne ke liye nahi hoti," he said calmly.
"Kuch cheezein seekhne ke liye hoti hain."
My brother rolled his eyes.
"Wow. Deep."
Mom flicked his forehead.
"Tu chup reh."
I smiled.
I was roasted.
Judged.
Teased.
Emotionally attacked.
But somehow… supported.
Typical Indian household.
They won't clap loudly for you.
But they'll make sure you eat properly afterward.
And honestly?
That felt like winning too. 💛