At lunch, Shruti sat under the old neem tree near the canteen, a patch of shade shielding her from the midday sun. Her lunchbox sat open beside her, one hand holding a half-eaten sandwich while the other absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a twig. She was smiling faintly to herself—thinking of Arjun's sleepy voice that morning, the way his fingers had brushed hers while handing her coffee, and the lazy way he had said, "You're glowing today, Mrs."
Her cheeks tingled just thinking about it.
"Hey… Shruti?" a voice cut in gently, warm but tentative.
She looked up, blinking out of her thoughts.
It was Saranya, standing a few feet away with her books clutched to her chest and a hesitant smile playing at her lips. Her dupatta flapped lightly in the breeze.
"Hi," Shruti said, straightening a little. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Saranya said quickly, shifting her weight. "Um… do you mind if I sit with you for a while?"
Shruti hesitated only a second. "Of course not. Sit."
Saranya lowered herself onto the stone bench beside her, smoothing her kurti and giving a quiet sigh. "It's such a nice spot. I've always seen you sit here but never came over."
Shruti smiled. "It's peaceful. The shade helps… and it's away from all the canteen drama."
"I know, right?" Saranya chuckled. "Today in the bio lab, someone dropped a whole tray of Petri dishes. It was like a slow-motion horror film."
Shruti laughed softly. "Let me guess… Varun?"
"Obviously," Saranya giggled. "He's so chaotic. I swear, he spills something every other week. Last time, it was ethanol."
They both laughed, and for a few moments, the conversation flowed with an ease neither of them expected.
Shruti offered part of her sandwich. "Want some?"
Saranya blinked, surprised, then smiled gratefully. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I packed too much anyway."
They sat quietly, sharing bites and random class gossip for a few more minutes. There was a softness in Saranya's demeanor now, more open than usual—less reserved.
Then, after a pause, Saranya spoke again, this time a bit more carefully.
"Shruti… can I ask you something?"
Shruti glanced at her, sensing the change in tone. "Sure."
"It's about… Arjun."
There it was.
Shruti's heart gave a quiet, reluctant thud.
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
Saranya looked down at her hands, fingers picking at the frayed edge of her notebook. "I hope this doesn't sound weird or desperate or anything… but I was wondering if you could maybe… help me talk to him?"
Shruti blinked.
Saranya rushed on, cheeks slightly flushed. "Not like, set me up or anything. Just… I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I fumble when I talk to him. He's polite, but I can't read him. And I don't want to keep pestering him or seem clingy, you know?"
Shruti kept her gaze steady. "You want me to… what exactly?"
"Just… tell me when he's in a good mood maybe?" Saranya said with a half-laugh. "Or help me find a chance to talk to him that's not awkward? I feel like you understand him better than most."
Shruti felt the words sink in slowly, heavy and slow like raindrops before a storm. She nodded, keeping her face calm. "I can try."
Saranya let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Shruti. You're seriously the sweetest. Most people would be weird about this."
"I'm not most people," Shruti said, managing a small smile.
"You really aren't," Saranya agreed warmly. "And I'm honestly glad we're talking more now. I always thought you were… distant. But you're really easy to talk to."
Shruti chuckled softly. "I'm just quiet around loud people."
Saranya grinned. "Then I must be the perfect medium volume."
They both laughed again. But Shruti's laughter faded faster.
Because her mind, even while smiling, was somewhere else.
She wasn't lying to Saranya. She hadn't promised anything she couldn't keep.
But she hadn't told her the truth either.
That Arjun wasn't just someone she liked.
He was someone she was married to.
Someone who had held her all night like she was a sacred vow.
And Saranya… sweet, kind Saranya… had no idea.
As they walked back toward the canteen steps together, Saranya talking animatedly about her chemistry project, Shruti smiled and nodded.
But her chest felt tight. Like the truth was a balloon she kept shoving deeper into a drawer—until one day, it might pop.
And for the rest of the afternoon, her conscience tugged at her with every breath.
To be continued...