Evening – Campus Exit
The sunset smeared golden streaks across the campus walls, painting warm blushes on crumbling concrete and weathered posters. Shruti walked among the crowd of students pouring out onto the main road—laughing, stretching, groaning about deadlines. But she didn't join in the rhythm.
She walked with a quiet calm.
Bag slung over one shoulder. Steps measured. Face unreadable.
But inside, her thoughts pulsed like a storm-tossed ocean.
"He looked like a special being to me. A saviour..."
Saranya's voice repeated itself like a distant bell. Soft. Persistent. Lingering.
Shruti gripped the strap of her bag tighter.
That hadn't been a passing crush. It wasn't some college fantasy. No. The way Saranya had spoken—eyes soft, voice trembling with the weight of unspoken years—that was love. Real. Raw. The kind that builds quietly over time. The kind Shruti hadn't even let herself feel yet.
She hadn't told Saranya the truth.
Not a word about the marriage.
Not even when Saranya asked permission to try for Arjun's heart.
And now, the guilt sat like a stone inside her ribs—pressing harder with every breath.
Why didn't I just say it?
Why didn't I tell her that I'm his wife?
Because… Shruti didn't want to say it.
She wanted Saranya to see it.
To figure it out on her own. To read it on Arjun's face. In the way he looked at Shruti. In the quiet comfort that flowed between them when they stood too close without realizing it.
It was cruel. She knew that.
But it also felt necessary.
Necessary to protect something she hadn't fully claimed yet.
Her silence wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't honesty either.
Now… her heart wasn't even sure if it belonged where it had been placed.
She blinked hard against the sting in her eyes.
That night… the one after my breakdown.
He held me. Whispered he wouldn't leave me. That I wasn't alone.
She remembered his exact words. The warmth in his arms. The quiet tremble in his voice when he promised her comfort.
But she hadn't taken it as love.
She hadn't dared to.
Because calling it love meant risking heartbreak.
So instead, she had tucked it away as sympathy. As kindness.
Nothing more.
What if I was wrong?
Worse—what if I was right?
What if that promise had just been a moment of softness? A reaction to her tears? A boy doing the right thing?
What if he finds someone better than me?
Smarter. Prettier. Bolder. More open. Someone who doesn't freeze when he smiles at her.
Someone like Saranya.
The thought hit her like a punch she wasn't ready for. Her steps slowed.
Her lungs ached like she'd forgotten how to breathe.
A group of boys walked past her, joking loudly. One of them bumped her shoulder by accident and mumbled an apology. She didn't respond. Didn't even blink.
The noise around her faded into a blur. All she could hear was her own voice screaming in her head.
He's not mine.
Not really.
We sleep in the same bed, eat at the same table, but I don't know what I am to him.
I'm waiting for a sign. For him to say something more. For him to choose.
But what if he never did?
What if she spent all her time trying not to cling, only to find he was never holding her to begin with?
She reached the roadside and paused near a tea stall, pretending to adjust her dupatta. But really, she just needed a moment to breathe.
A moment to steady the guilt. And fear. And that quiet jealousy she didn't want to name.
Why did Saranya have to be so kind?
Why couldn't she be someone I could hate?
Why does everything feel so painfully... in-between?
"Shruti?"
Her heart jumped.
But it wasn't Arjun.
Just a classmate walking by with a samosa in hand. She waved weakly and moved on.
Every step home felt longer than usual.
When she finally reached their gate, her fingers hovered over the latch for a second too long.
Because she was afraid of what she'd see inside.
Afraid of looking at Arjun's face and not knowing whether it belonged to her—or to someone else's dream.
To be continued...