Between all this, everything was going fine between us. Or at least that's what I told myself to believe. Shresth cared—I knew he did. He really did. His actions, the little moments, the way he always picked up my calls or showed up when I needed him proved it. Yet a part of me, the insecure and overthinking part, always whispered—but how does he speak about you to others?
I never had the answer to that. Maybe sometimes he made me sound desperate. Maybe not intentionally, but still, he did. And the worst part? He wasn't entirely wrong. I was desperate when it came to him. Obsessed even.
Because he was my escape. My home. Whenever things went wrong in my world, I ran to him. And that's where the trouble began.
It all started near the beginning of October.
---
Sujal, one of my closest friends, had been pestering me for days about an upcoming event in the city—a cultural night, full of food, music, dance, and laughter. A "Dandiya Night." It was the kind of festive program that gathered half the town every year. Everyone dressed in bright colors, swayed to garba beats, and shared endless fun.
"Raj and everyone else is coming too," Sujal told me one afternoon. "Even some girls from the other group. Come on, Charu, just say yes. It happens once a year. Don't miss it."
I wanted to. God, I really did. The idea of getting lost in the crowd, in music and colors, sounded like something I deserved after months of the same routine. But my house was far. Too far. Unlike my friends who lived nearby, for me it meant either crashing at a cousin's place or booking a cab back home at midnight.
And my father? Strict as ever. I could already imagine him saying: "You have board exams this year. Stop wasting time in these useless parties."
Still, I tried. I convinced my mom first. She was hesitant but softened. "I'll talk to your dad," she said. And I held on to that tiny thread of hope.
Of course, I told Shresth about it too. That was my habit—I told him almost everything.
"It's just one night," I explained. "But I doubt Dad will allow."
His reply stunned me. "Wait… is it just a one-day program?"
"Yes," I said slowly. "Why?"
"I heard Samriddhi comes every year for this." His voice dropped, thoughtful but charged. "Maybe this is the last chance I have… to ask if things could be fixed."
The words cut like glass.
"Oh… that's great," I forced a laugh, masking the ache inside. "You got a chance."
"I'll go then," he said, determination in his tone. "I just need the passes."
He even asked me to send him the poster, which I did. My hands felt numb as I forwarded it. Here I was, fighting with my family for permission, while the boy I loved was planning to use the same night to chase someone else.
And not just someone. His ex.
Samriddhi.
---
I tried to focus on my own battle at home. My dad wasn't budging. "It's not worth it," he said flatly. "You'll travel so far at night just to waste time dancing? Boards are coming. Focus on your studies."
I argued until my throat burned, until tears stung my eyes. "Why can't you ever listen to me?" I snapped, storming into my room. I swore I wouldn't eat dinner out of protest.
Shresth called right then. My voice cracked when I answered.
"I won't eat," I sobbed. "No one cares what I want."
"Charu," his voice was firm, steady. "Go eat. Please. Don't do this to yourself. I'm telling you—go and eat. We'll figure something out later."
Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one denied. He wasn't the one left behind.
Still, I wiped my tears and did as he said. Because when it came to him, I always listened.
---
October 4th arrived, and I finally admitted to Sujal that I couldn't come. His disappointment was obvious. "You could've told me earlier," he sighed. Even Raj was upset, but what could I do? Traveling at night wasn't safe, and my father's word was final.
That evening, I called Shresth. "So… you're still going?" I asked quietly.
"Yes," he said. "I'll finish my business work, skip school tomorrow, and leave in the evening."
I swallowed. "Oh. I'm glad."
He didn't notice the tremor in my voice.
Then he added the words that broke me a little more:
"I can guarantee, Charu. A hundred percent. Whatever happens, tomorrow my car will be parked outside that building. It's important. I have to meet her."
Important.
She was important.
I hung up with a smile on my lips and fire in my chest. That night, I barely slept. My heart knew what my brain refused to accept—sometimes, you're not the love someone waits for.
---
October 5th.
The city glowed with lights and colors, but I sat at home, restless. My math tuition kept me occupied, but my thoughts stayed with him. As I left class, I dialed his number.
He answered, voice hurried. "I'm just leaving now. Car's ready. I'll see you later."
"All the best," I whispered, holding back everything else I wanted to say.
"Thanks," he replied, and hung up.
Priyanka was with me. She knew. She always knew. And she kept glancing at me like she was waiting for me to break.
But I didn't. Not yet.
That evening, I learned he hadn't even taken the pass. He planned to wait outside the building, lingering until Samriddhi arrived. He called me once, telling me he was hanging around with his cousin to pass time until she came. His voice was casual, but my heart heard everything it wasn't supposed to.
I stayed up that night, phone in hand, staring at the screen. I typed and retyped messages, asking him—What happened? Did she come? Did you meet her? How did she react
Hours passed. No reply.
Finally, at midnight, my screen lit up.
Charu, I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Came home late. Sleepy. TTYL.
That was it.
Just one short message after leaving me to wrestle with every possible outcome.
And yet, even then, my heart refused to let go. Because I was scared—terrified—that tomorrow might bring the end of everything.
And my instincts? They screamed louder than ever.
Something was about to break.
---