Two days later, the Ridge trip finally kicked off. The buses waited outside the college gate like bloated insects, white and airless. The SynerTech logos slapped across the windows didn't help. Volunteers with fake enthusiasm waved cardboard signs, calling out group numbers over the buzz of idling engines.
Shivam spotted his, Group 7, taped on the front windshield of Bus 2. He handed over his ID, nodded through the usual checklist, and climbed the narrow stairs without much thought.
She was already there.
Second row, window seat. Bhumika sat with her bag on her lap, earbuds in, gaze turned toward the half-drawn curtain. The moment he stepped in, she noticed, just a flicker in her posture, then went back to staring outside.
He slid into the seat beside her because most of the seats assigned to their group were filled. A beat passed. Then another.
"Morning," she said, quiet.
"Yeah," he replied, adjusting his bag on his lap. "Didn't expect the bus to be on time and this much filled."
"Miracles exist," she said. Her tone wasn't cold. Just… measured.
Outside, students in the other groups milled around , trying to swap seats, negotiating with professors, clicking photos for stories with overly enthusiastic captions.
A guy climbed aboard behind them, too loud for the mood. "Do we get food on this or what?"
Shivam glanced out of habit. Then back ahead.
"Group 5's TA is skipping the trip," Bhumika said, breaking the quiet again. "Apparently had a wedding."
He nodded. "Figures. Singh sir never liked fieldwork." "He once called trees 'photosynthetic liabilities.'"
Shivam let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. "Yeah. Classic."
They fell silent again. The bus door hissed shut behind the last student, and the engine gave a reluctant growl. As the vehicle rolled out of the gate, a volunteer up front began droning about safety guidelines. No one listened.
"Did you finish Rao's assignment?" she asked after a minute, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.
"Half. It's due next week, right?"
"Monday."
"Great," he said, rubbing his temple. "Guess my Sunday's booked."
She didn't smile, but something in her expression relaxed.
The bus rocked slightly as it turned onto the main road. Morning haze blurred the Ridge in the distance, a patch of wild green in an otherwise bone-dry stretch of North Delhi.
Bhumika tugged lightly at her Kurti sleeve. "Ritika texted me yesterday. Said you never replied to the group project messages."
"I was busy." "She said you left the group chat."
"I didn't mean to," he said, voice even. "It was just… clutter."
She nodded. Nothing accusatory in her face, just observation.
"People noticed," she added. "Thought maybe you didn't want to be part of it."
He looked out the window. "That's not it."
More silence. This one felt heavier. Not awkward, but definite. A pause with shape to it.
A bump in the road made her shift slightly. Her arm brushed his for a moment before both leaned back to neutral space. The curtain fluttered, and they both looked forward again, not at each other.
The Ridge entrance slowly came into view, a temporary banner strung up between two metal poles:
"Delhi Biodiversity & Youth Initiative – In Collaboration with SynerTech"
The SynerTech logo shimmered in metallic blue. Below it:
"For a Greener Tomorrow."
Students ahead craned their necks to take photos. A few rolled their eyes. Someone joked about influencers in the wild.
"Feels a bit... choreographed," Shivam murmured.
Bhumika didn't answer right away. Then, quietly: "Yeah. Like we're walking into something already written."
He turned slightly. "You always talk like that?"
"Only when I don't know what else to say."
The bus rolled to a stop. The engine sighed into silence.
Volunteers stood waiting with clipboards, fake smiles already plastered in place. One banged the side of the bus twice, a signal to disembark.
Bhumika stood first. Adjusted her bag strap. Didn't look at him.
"Let's get it over with," she said. Shivam followed without a word. The Ridge looked nothing like the textbook photos. No filtered drone shots or bright captions here, just dry heat, thorny undergrowth, and the smell of dust rising off stone. As the buses rolled to a halt near a fenced clearing, the students leaned against the windows, half-asleep from the ride, blinking into the sun.
Large banners welcomed them: "Ridge Sustainability Project – In Association with SynerTech & Forest Welfare Trust" printed in bold across clean white cloth. A few fluttered loose from their ropes in the warm wind, flapping against the poles like they didn't want to be there either.
They disembarked in groups, shoulder bags slung low, eyes scanning for shade. The base camp had been set up with clinical precision, three large canopy tents, a few folding tables with name tags and handouts, and crates stacked with bottled water. There was a makeshift medical booth near the side, staffed by a pair of NGO volunteers in spotless uniforms.
"Welcome!" one of them called out, too cheerful. "Please collect your gloves, cleanup kits, and field tags from the table to your right!"
Shivam stepped down last, stretching his neck. The Ridge loomed behind the camp, a sprawling, uneven stretch of semi-forested terrain that looked more like it had survived a war than preserved nature. The soil was cracked. The trees gnarled. This wasn't your average green patch.
As he approached the kit tables with the rest of Group 7, his eyes wandered, catching details others didn't seem to notice. Near the entry point into the Ridge trail stood two uniformed forest guards. They weren't idle, their grips on their rifles were casual, but their stances weren't. Trained. Watchful.
On the path ahead, SynerTech had set up two portable scanner arches, metallic gates shaped like oversized phone frames, humming softly. One of the volunteers adjusted the side panel, entering data into a sleek digital pad as if calibrating something more serious than just student ID tracking.
And then there was the trailer.
Parked a few meters away, under shade netting, a steel container sat on two thick tires. Stamped across its door in yellow: "EQUIPMENT – FRAGILE." A man in plain clothes wheeled a cart next to it, then unlocked the rear gate with a gloved hand. Shivam caught a glimpse, metal canisters, tightly strapped. Some of them pulsed faintly with blue light through a transparent panel.
He blinked, and the man shut the gate.
Just ahead, a volunteer was pulling on gloves near the medical tent. He looked normal enough, until Shivam caught the moment when the man, glancing around quickly, pushed a small injector into the side of his arm. The plunger hissed, blue serum. He immediately pulled a glove over it, face composed again.
Shivam's brow furrowed. No one else had seen it. Around him, students were still laughing, joking about whether they'd be forced to collect plastic bottles or fight off snakes. The moment passed, buried in noise.
Bhumika was already walking ahead with two other students from the group. She didn't look back.