The sun rose over Svar-Ganga College of Music, casting a warm golden glow that filtered through the leaves of the ancient banyan tree. Nandini stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate fabric of her saree, a vibrant shade of teal that echoed her newfound confidence. Today was the day of the annual spring concert, the culmination of weeks of hard work, emotional upheaval, and unexpected connections. Yet, as she practiced her vocal scales, a flutter of anxiety twisted in her stomach, a reminder of the stakes that lay ahead.

Across campus, Manik was warming up on his guitar, his fingers dancing over the strings, lost in the melodies that flowed effortlessly from him. The past few weeks had transformed his initial bravado into something deeper; he had learned to listen—not just to the music, but to Nandini. Their rehearsals had evolved from heated arguments to moments of quiet understanding, where their souls intertwined through the notes they played. He had watched her grow, her voice blooming like the flowers in the garden, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.