Rudra's Return — One Day, One Heartbeat
Rudra stepped off the flight into the familiar, chaotic embrace of Delhi.
It wasn't planned.
It wasn't even smart.
He had a critical business pitch scheduled in two days, and yet, his hands had booked this flight the moment he saw Ruhi's reply to his letter:
"If you're still the Rudra who knew my silences —come back and hear me speak."
And now he was back.
For one day.
🎉 College Fest — Lights, Music, and Unspoken Words
The college grounds buzzed with excitement — food stalls, music competitions, laughter echoing through the air. Bright fairy lights wrapped around trees and tents.
Ruhi stood at the poetry booth, nervously helping Simran with a small open-mic corner. She wore a simple peach kurta and silver jhumkas that swayed with the breeze.
And then she froze.
Because he was there.
Rudra.
Walking across the lawn, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, eyes locked only on hers.
Simran nudged her gently. "Breathe."
🌙 The Confrontation — Beneath a Canopy of Lights
They met near the back lawn, where the crowd thinned and the music softened.
"You came back," Ruhi whispered.
"I couldn't stay away."
She didn't smile.
"You left without saying goodbye."
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"That you'd ask me to stay. And I'd stay — and resent you later. Or worse… you'd say nothing, and I'd leave — and hate myself forever."
She looked at him, voice trembling. "So you chose silence?"
"I thought I was choosing safety."
Ruhi stepped closer. "Do I look safe to you, Rudra?"
He didn't reply.
Because she didn't.
She looked powerful.Wounded, yes. But not small.
She looked like someone he could lose — and never recover from.
📓 Beyond the Buzzer – Page 142
"Love is not about choosing one over another.It's about knowing which one makes you more… you."
💼 Simran's Crossroads — An Unexpected Offer
Meanwhile, inside the college auditorium, Simran sat with a well-known publishing editor who had just attended her open-mic performance.
"I love your writing," the woman said. "And we'd like to offer you a debut publishing deal."
Simran's eyes widened. "That's… amazing."
"But," the woman added, "the deal includes a six-month content residency in Bangalore."
Simran went silent.
Bangalore? That meant leaving Aarav. Her apartment. Her life in Delhi.
"Can I think about it?"
The editor smiled. "Of course. But don't take too long. Writers wait too long, and their stories shrink."
🏀 Aarav's Calm — A Different Kind of Achievement
At the same time, Aarav stood on the college basketball court, helping a young wheelchair-bound student learn how to shoot.
He'd stopped checking job portals.
Stopped comparing resumes.
Instead, he'd started teaching — not just skills, but confidence.
When the boy finally made his first basket, Aarav clapped louder than anyone.
Maybe peace didn't come with promotions.
Maybe it came with purpose.
🩰 The Slow Dance — The Reset Moment
As the evening ended, the crowd gathered near the open stage. A soft tune played — a fusion of old ghazals and acoustic guitar.
"Would you like to dance?" Rudra asked Ruhi, holding out his hand.
She hesitated… then nodded.
They stepped into the center — just the two of them, amid hundreds.
He held her gently, not tightly.
She rested her hand on his shoulder, uncertain but willing.
And as they moved, slowly, awkwardly, honestly…
He whispered, "I don't know what the future looks like. But if it doesn't include your laugh in the next room… I don't want it."
Ruhi swallowed. "I'm not asking you to quit your dreams."
"I'm asking myself what they really are," he said.
Silence.
Music.
Breath.
Her eyes glistened as she replied, "Choose what feels like home."
He smiled.
"You."
📓 Beyond the Buzzer – Page 145
"Dances end.But the way someone holds youLingers longer than the song."
🌌 That Night — Simran and Aarav on the Rooftop
Simran told Aarav about the publishing offer.
He listened.
Quietly. Carefully.
Then he said, "You have to go."
"But what about us?"
"We'll rewrite distance like we rewrote doubt."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.No tears. Just clarity.
They didn't need promises anymore.
Just presence — even from afar.
💫 End of Chapter 28