The house felt quieter than usual. Anuradha Choudhary noticed it in the little things—the untouched food on Rishi's plate, the lack of music from his room, the way he no longer hummed to himself while getting ready. Even Mohan, who rarely involved himself in emotional matters, had begun to notice.
That evening, while the sun melted into a soft orange outside the kitchen window, Anuradha set a plate in front of Rishi, who merely pushed the food around with his spoon. Mohan lowered his newspaper, peeking over the edge to observe his son's unusually detached demeanor.
"You've hardly eaten anything, Rishi," Anuradha said, her tone more worried than scolding.
"I'm not that hungry, Ma," he replied without meeting her gaze.
Mohan's voice, low and firm, cut through the room. "You were tired yesterday too. And the day before that. Something's wrong."
Rishi stood up abruptly. "I have a few notes to go through. I'll eat later."
As he left the table, his parents exchanged a glance. Anuradha sighed. "He hasn't been the same since that day."
Mohan set the newspaper aside. "Maybe it's time we talk to Rajiv."
—
The next evening, Rajiv arrived at Rishi's home under the pretext of returning a book. Anuradha ushered him in with a hopeful smile and quickly set down tea and snacks. Rajiv noticed the worry in her eyes and the heaviness in the air.
"Beta, I wanted to talk to you," she said once they were seated. "You're close to Rishi. Closer than we can ever be with him at this age. Tell me, what's happening?"
Rajiv hesitated. He knew Rishi trusted him, and he wouldn't betray that completely. But he also understood Anuradha's fear. "He's… fine physically. But emotionally, something's bothering him."
Mohan, who had just joined them, narrowed his eyes. "Another fight?"
Rajiv shook his head. "No. Nothing violent. Just a misunderstanding. With a junior girl. She misunderstood something, and it hit Rishi hard. He doesn't say it, but… I think it reminded him of something else. Maybe something he hasn't dealt with yet."
Anuradha clutched her shawl tighter. "He's angrier lately. But it's a quiet kind of anger."
"We're trying, Uncle," Rajiv said gently. "Raj and I. We're trying to fix it before it goes too far. But maybe give him time. He's not as lost as he seems."
Mohan nodded slowly. "Time doesn't heal unless someone helps you through it."
Rajiv met his eyes. "We're not letting him drift. I promise."
—
Meanwhile, in college, Raj's impulsive plan to ease the tension between Rishi and the junior girl had already begun to backfire.
It started with a staged group project where Raj convinced the professor to pair the two together. His logic was simple—forced teamwork breeds connection.
But things didn't go as he hoped.
From the moment they were assigned, the tension was unbearable. Rishi barely acknowledged her presence, replying in curt, sharp tones. The girl, equally stubborn, refused to back down or be polite.
When she tried to take the lead on the project, Rishi cut her off. "If you're going to play the victim again, maybe take your drama somewhere else."
Her eyes flared. "And if you're going to be a jerk again, maybe don't pretend to be a leader."
The classroom fell silent. Even the professor paused, sensing the friction.
Afterward, Raj and Rajiv stood near the water cooler, looking defeated.
"That did not go how I imagined," Raj muttered.
Rajiv shook his head. "I told you… this can't be forced. They don't need proximity. They need clarity."
Raj frowned. "But how do we give them that without telling them everything?"
Rajiv hesitated. "Maybe… they need to figure it out on their own."
That evening, Rishi's frustration boiled over. Walking back from campus, he kicked at pebbles, his voice low but seething.
"She thinks she knows me. Like she can just show up, throw accusations, and expect me to listen?"
He paused under a streetlamp, shadows playing across his face. "If she wants war, I'll give her one. I've dealt with worse."
That evening, after the tense confrontation, Rishi returned home with an odd silence in his footsteps. He wasn't storming. He wasn't ranting like before.
He was just... quiet.
He entered, greeted briefly by Anuradha's warm call from the kitchen.
"You're late."
"Classes," he lied, sitting on the edge of the sofa and rubbing his temples.
Mohan glanced up from the newspaper. "Something wrong?"
"No." Rishi muttered.
But his mind was racing.
"She looked me in the eye like I was the villain."
He stood up and walked to the balcony, where a half-dry towel fluttered lazily in the breeze.
His fists clenched.
"That girl has no idea what she's started."
Back in her home, the junior girl sat cross-legged on her bed, her fingers scrolling through old pictures-hospital corridors, bloodied hands, the scarf she wore that night. All saved quietly. Privately.
She stared at them for a long time.
"Maybe he doesn't deserve to bow," she whispered.
Then deleted them.
Every photo.
One by one.
Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry. The fire inside her now wasn't sadness it was something else.
Meanwhile ,
Raj paced in front of Rajiv's gate, talking animatedly. "We need to cool this down, bro. It's going too far."
"Let it cool naturally," Rajiv replied, serious for once. "They don't need drama. They need space."
Raj groaned. "If we give them space, they'll end up destroying each other. Or worse-ignore each other till graduation!"
Rajiv crossed his arms. "Then what? You want to play matchmaker?"
"I want to play peacekeeper," Raj snapped.
Rajiv stayed quiet.
Then he said something unexpected.
"What if she's not just a girl in his story?"
"What do you mean?"
Rajiv didn't answer directly. He just looked at the dark street ahead and murmured, "Sometimes people show up in your life to teach you something... but that doesn't mean you'll like the lesson."
Later that night. long after the world slept. Rishi sat in his room. No music. No light. Just the pale blue from his laptop screen.
His mind replayed the girl's face, her words, her anger.
Something about it tugged at him not the fight, but the way she looked at him when he snapped at her.
Not hate.
Not fear.
Disappointment.
Like she expected better from him.
His chest tightened a little. He didn't know why.
He opened his notebook and mindlessly doodled something.
A pair of eyes.
Sharp. Familiar.
He shut the notebook immediately.
No. Don't go there.
She's no one.
She's the enemy now.
But even as he lay back. pulling the blanket over his head. he didn't realize-
Outside, across the street, under the dim orange glow of the streetlamp, a scooty slowed down for a few seconds.
The girl didn't stop.
She just stared at the gate of Rishi's house... for a moment longer than usual.
Then she drove off into the darkness.
And no one saw her.
But maybe that was the point.
Some battles aren't fought in loud voices or punches.
Some are fought in the silence between misunderstandings.
And this one?
Was just beginning.
To be continued...