**It was the 24th of June one of those oddly beautiful days when the sun and the rain can't decide who gets the sky.**
I was on a call with my best friend, Akarsh. He had been talking nonstop for the last ten minutes, trying every stupid joke in the book just to lift my mood. I wasn't doing well life had been throwing problems at me faster than I could handle. So his voice, even filtered through the phone, felt like a small anchor in the chaos.
Somewhere between his teasing and my half-hearted "hmm," we ended up doing the most random thing ever making an ID for me on a dating app. Not because I was looking for love.
Honestly?
We just wanted to mess around. Maybe talk to random strangers.
Maybe find seniors from college and roast them later.
Classic us.
We kept swiping left like we were clearing notifications ....no emotions, no thoughts. Then suddenly… I stopped.
There was this one profile.
**Uttam, 22.**
Data Scientist.
Pass-out from *National Institute of AI and Technology *literally *the* place everyone dreams of.
Non-smoker.
Hates drinks.
Into horror, music, and… a perfect date by a calm lake watching the sunset.
I don't know what it was.
The vibe? The simplicity? The way his words felt soft yet grounded?
But something in me stilled.
And before I even realised it, my finger moved on its own—
**Right swipe.**
For a moment, everything went quiet… inside me.
As if my mind paused just to feel something it hadn't felt in a while calm.
Then, like always, Akarsh broke my bubble.
"LOOK whom I found! It's Sharan!"
He burst into laughter.
Sharan his classmate, my senior.
The three of us had served in the same club before.
And even through the distraction, a small smile pulled at my lips.
But my mind?
It was still replaying that one profile.
That one name.
That strange, soft pull toward someone I had never met.
**Something had shifted that day… and I didn't even know it yet.**
Slide someone right already," Akarsh growled. "Look at his body, damn—swipe him right, man!"
Me, being the typical girl who never gets physically attracted to someone, just couldn't relate. Still, we kept swiping, and I ended up finding a few people with similar interests.
Then another profile caught my attention—**Hrithik, 24, National Institute of Research and Science.**
The moment I saw his funny photo, a smile automatically appeared. Not everyone has the guts to post a weird picture on a dating app. His bio said, *"Ready to put sindur on your forehead."*
"Crazy," I thought.
My exams were nearing, so I glanced at my watch. "Enough bullshit for today, I need to study."
"Yeah sure," Akarsh sighed, "just don't stress… over someone who doesn't care about you."
And immediately, my heart replayed the memories—those texts, that smile, the hesitation when he almost touched my shoulder, his hand stopping mid-air as our eyes met. I sighed.
"Yeah… bye."
Almost an hour passed with me staring at my book, pretending to study, when my phone lit up:
**"A pulled a move."**
I scoffed. It was from the same dating app.
His message read, *"What TV show would you be a main character in?"*
Like my life isn't dramatic enough, I thought.
I replied:
**"Well, my own life feels like it's written by a TV show director… it's more dramatic than the drama itself."**
Not even two minutes later, he responded.
And just like that, our conversation flowed—playful, a little flirty. Being new to the whole thing, my replies were awkward, but it was still fun. For a moment, I was distracted from my heartache.
Then he asked me out. Tomorrow. At a nearby garden.
I immediately called Akarsh.
"I don't want to go."
"You'll feel niceeee! Just give it a try," he insisted.
After enough pushing and pulling, I gave up.
---
**Next day, 4:30 PM.**
It was pouring outside. I sighed and hit "dial."
After a few rings, he picked up.
"What's up, ma'am? Ditching me already?"
"No… it's raining really hard here—"
"Well, not on my side. Is that an excuse?"
Yes, my mind screamed.
But I said, "I'm coming."
I loved rain, but that day it irritated me. Still, I pushed myself, reached the garden, parked my scooty, and ran under a shed. The place was unusually crowded.
"What's so great about coming to a garden in this weather? For momos?" I rolled my eyes.
My phone buzzed.
"You reached?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you?"
"I'm wearing red, open hair."
Pause.
"Got you."
"Where—?"
"Right behind you."
I turned.
There he was, staring right into my eyes… then scanning me from top to bottom.
Did he really just—?
I forced a smile. "Hi… sir."
His bio had said he was 22, a software developer from a top engineering institute. Why people treated dating apps like LinkedIn, I would never understand.
"Come, let's sit somewhere. Momos?" he said.
I hesitated, but he ordered anyway. When I reached for my phone to scan the QR, he grabbed my hand.
"No miss, I asked you out. I'll pay."
My heart felt strange—not good, not bad, just… off.
We sat facing each other. It was still raining heavily, and my teenage hormones betrayed me—I felt shy. He noticed.
But slowly, the conversation grew smoother; we joked around. I teased, "What if you added drugs in the momos and kidnapped me?"
Things were fine… until his hand touched my leg.
My smile faded for a moment, but I convinced myself it might've been accidental.
After a while, the rain slowed.
"Should we walk?" he asked.
I nodded.
As we walked, he placed his hand around my waist, pulled me aside when men passed by, shielded my hair from wet leaves. It felt straight out of fiction—but also fake. Artificial. Too much, too soon.
We had met yesterday.
How could someone act so caring overnight?
Then we sat on a bench. He sat close—too close—and held my hand, caressing it. I felt uncomfortable.
So I asked casually, "What was your engineering entrance rank?"
Still staring at my hand, he said, "1700."
"And where did you study?"
"National University for Technology. CSE."
I looked at him.
He was lying.
That branch closes around 450–500. Every aspirant knows that.
And suddenly, a flashback hit me—entering my own roll number… seeing "NOT QUALIFIED"… the way my father's expectations broke… how I felt like a criminal in a family full of achievers.
I could've confronted him, mocked him even.
But my soul didn't allow it.
I checked the time. Almost 7.
"I need to leave for my club meeting," I said.
He walked me out. I extended my hand for a handshake.
"It was nice meeting you."
Instead, he pulled me into a hug.
I froze, smiled awkwardly, and left.
On the way back, the rain kept falling—but inside me, everything was still.
His actions were smooth.
His lies were clean.
The moment was perfect.
But nothing felt mine.
I asked myself silently:
**"What are you longing for, babe?"**
Something, yes.
But this… wasn't it.
---
My eyes were fixed on my phone screen, and my heart was skipping beats. The results for the club elections were about to be released. Inside my head, a small voice kept chanting, *"Make me win… Vice President Membership… please."* My legs trembled, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
The countdown began: **3… 2… 1…**
The list opened.
And at that exact moment, two notifications popped up.
But I didn't look at them.
My eyes were glued to the result.
**I… WON.**
For the first time in a long while, my lips curved into a genuine smile.
Only then did my eyes drift to the notifications—it was from the dating app.
**Uttam.**
**Hrithik.**
I had matched with both of them.
Both had sent a "hi."
I stared at the screen, stuck in place, until someone from the meeting tapped my arm and congratulated me. I snapped out of my trance.
By the time the meeting ended and I got home, it was already bedtime. That's when I remembered the notifications again. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, but I finally typed:
**"hey… wassup?"**
I sent the same to Hrithik, but strangely, I didn't feel hesitant with him.
He replied instantly:
**"The only ups are our manager's expectations from us in corporate. You tell?"**
Reading that, he genuinely felt like one of those typical hostel boys.
I replied,
**"And in engineering colleges, the only ups are assignments and our parents' expectations of a 1 crore package."**
He took a moment—probably relating to it.
**"All my planetary positions were in the wrong place when I chose engineering. And looks like so were yours. I wish you power to survive that thing."**
I giggled softly.
**"Respected sir, I don't talk to strangers… aapka resume do."**
Our conversation continued effortlessly. Talking to him didn't feel like talking to a stranger at all.
Just when I was about to switch off my phone, an unexpected notification popped up—
**Uttam.**
My heart did that weird tingling thing again.
He wrote,
**"Got back to Raipur a few days back from my internship."**
And before I could reply, another message came:
**"Can you share your Insta? I'm not really active here."**
Straightforward. Bold.
I don't know why, but a side-smile—almost a smirk—formed on my lips. I ignored his first text completely and replied:
**"I've deactivated my Insta. I'm only active on WhatsApp now."**
Silence from his end.
I scoffed internally.
But then he replied:
**"Works for me. If you're comfortable sharing your number… miss?"**
Why did that feel like an open challenge?
I paused, then typed:
**"Sure… if you don't misuse it, sir. Here you go: +91**********."**
No reply.
Classic.
He was definitely the mysterious-straight-guy type.
Honestly, he felt like a blend of Aquarius and Capricorn.
I laughed at my own ridiculous thoughts—
Astrology in the first conversation? Seriously, Shaira?
Rolling my eyes, I opened WhatsApp.
On the top was a message from an unknown—but known—person:
**"Misuse of a girl's contact number… not really my thing. Will talk to you tomorrow. Good night."**
Suddenly, my body warmed up; I swallowed hard, tossed my phone aside, and shut my eyes.
*Whatever. Leave him. Sleep.*
Before I was about to sleep, my phone beeped. Already irritated, I picked it up just to put it on silent mode… only to see another notification from that dating app. Great. This time it was from someone Akarsh had forced me to swipe right on because *he* found him cute — Aryan, 23, again from the National Institute of Research and Technology, Goa.
God knows what all these nerdy dudes were doing here. This app was making me feel illiterate at this point.
He had texted, *"Can I call you?"*
I glanced at the time — almost 11:30 p.m.
I plugged in my earpods and typed back, *"Sure."*
The message barely delivered before my phone started ringing.
I answered, trying to sound cheerful. "Hey?"
A deep voice replied — and honestly, it did NOT match his baby face.
"Hey… what're you doing?"
What kind of question was that? Did he think I was playing garba at midnight?
I replied with full sarcasm, "Was about to sleep, but looks like these corporate dudes don't believe in sleeping this early."
He giggled. "Maybe… so tell me, what are you looking for?"
Okay, good question… except even I didn't know the answer.
"Ummm… want to start with being just friends at first…"
He paused. "So you wanna maybe go out on a date — like movie, make out and then leave?"
*Make out???*
My brain malfunctioned. My face had the weirdest expression.
"Wtf dude… who on earth jumps to kissing on the first date?"
Silence.
Then he said, "I mean… it's an experience after all."
Experience my foot.
"Ummmm, not really for me," I replied. It was fine if he found me boring. I wasn't getting involved in such things.
Then he said, "Oh… share your Instagram. My parents are back home, I need to end the call."
Chaotic. The whole conversation had my eyebrows raised.
"My ID is deactivated," I said.
"Activate it and send it to me," he replied — like he was giving me an order.
Before I could react, he added, "I gotta go… bye," and hung up.
Wtf just happened?
I rolled my eyes, switched off my phone, closed my eyes and muttered, "What a weird set of unexpected encounters this day had."