The college canteen buzzed with the usual noise—chairs scraping, orders being called, and the rhythmic hum of a hundred conversations. The air smelled of masala fries and tired students.

Aayush walked in with his group, shoulders slightly hunched from the long, dragging lectures. His eyes scanned the counter, not because he was starving—his stomach had long given up on complaining—but out of habit. A glance at the board made his wallet wince. He stayed put.