Bhargav's POV
The second day of college was already testing my patience. Not with classes—that was still manageable—but with faces I didn't miss during the break.
I sat at our usual canteen table, legs stretched out, plastic tray in front of me with the worst-looking biryani I'd seen in weeks. The rice was half-cooked, and the chicken looked like it died regretting its life choices. But I was too hungry to protest.
Adithya slumped beside me like he'd just finished climbing a hill, and Rakesh was balancing a glass of lime soda like it was a newborn baby. Ankita and Nikita took the opposite bench, pulling their hair up and already gossiping about some junior's proposal video that apparently went viral last night.
The usual noise, the loud clangs of trays, the high-pitched whistle of the tea boiler near the counter—all of it felt normal again.
Except her.
Varsha sat at the table just across from us. Her group was quieter than usual. She had her hair tied up in a bun, black eyeliner sharp, wearing that lavender kurti she always reserved for "first impressions."
But her eyes kept darting toward me—small, flickering glances like she expected me to yell her secrets across the canteen.
I didn't.
I didn't even blink at her.
I don't give a fuck anymore.
She's not worth the rage. Not anymore.
Adithya stabbed a potato with his spoon like it had insulted his ancestors. "Bro. This is the driest sabzi I've ever had. I think I just inhaled cumin and trauma."
I snorted. "It builds character."
He groaned. "Character won't help me poop."
Rakesh nearly choked on his roti. "You need a girlfriend, man."
Adithya thumped his chest. "Don't rub it in, bro. Single life is boring as hell. No one to share my cold coffee with. No one to hold hands with during horror films."
Ankita leaned her elbow on the table, grinning. "True. Being in a relationship is so nice. Someone to text at 2 a.m., someone who knows your mood by one emoji."
Nikita added, "Someone to share your fries with."
I raised my eyebrow and took a slow sip from my Frooti box. "It's all good until you catch them kissing someone else behind your back."
Choke.
A loud cough.
From the table across.
I didn't even have to look.
Varsha.
She wiped her mouth quickly, her face paling slightly. Her friends whispered something, but I didn't hear.
For a second, the laughter died around us. Ankita's smile faltered. Nikita's brows raised. Even Adithya glanced between me and her like pieces were finally clicking.
I cleared my throat and smiled dryly. "That's why I say—being single is underrated. Or just wait till you find someone better. Don't rush it. You'll end up with… well, shit."
Adithya let out a low whistle. "Savage."
I shrugged. "Truth."
"Still," he argued, licking some ketchup from his thumb, "It's hard, dude. How do you even know who's real anymore?"
I nodded slowly. "Get to know them. All of them. Not just the polished version. Date someone only after they've cried in front of you. Or snored. Or stolen your last paneer puff."
Nikita giggled. "Oh? So if a girl's older than you but meets all that... would you still go for it?"
I didn't even flinch. "Yes."
My voice didn't shake. But I paused. Just for a beat.
Right then—buzz.
My phone vibrated on the table.
One notification.
Siri: Can I call for a minute?
My heart did that annoying thing again—tripped over itself like a kid learning to walk.
I typed back quickly.
Me: Always.
I felt the atmosphere shift. All four of them were staring at me.
Adithya raised both hands. "Wait… who's that? Don't tell me…"
I smirked, already standing, grabbing my phone. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Oye!" Rakesh called. "Why are you smiling like a guy in a toothpaste ad?"
"He's blushing!" Ankita squealed. "Boys, we lost him."
I waved them off and started walking away, hiding my grin. The canteen air felt lighter suddenly, even though it smelled of burnt curry and old mop water. A breeze slipped through the open windows near the corridor. Still warm, but pleasant.
As I neared the steps outside, I heard it—just under the clatter and laughter.
"Is he really dating someone else now?" someone whispered behind me.
Probably one of Varsha's friends.
Let them whisper.
I don't care.
The air outside was warm, but softer than the chaos inside—filled with clanging plates, the shrill laughter of juniors, and the constant hum of conversations about nothing. I made my way to the old neem tree near the concrete path, the one I'd always claimed as my personal escape corner since first year. The sun peeked through its dusty green leaves, casting broken shadows on the stone bench below.
I sat down, letting my spine rest against the cold iron backrest. My phone buzzed once in my palm.
Siri.
Just seeing her name on the screen softened something in my chest.
I picked up immediately. "Hello?"
Her voice came through a second later. "Hello."
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "It's Bhargav, at your service, madam," I said in a mock-butler tone, placing a hand dramatically over my chest even though no one was watching.
She let out the cutest giggle—the kind that curled around my ears and refused to leave. "Such royal service. Tell me, are you having lunch, Mr. Royal?"
"Trying to," I sighed. "Canteen adventures. You know how it is."
"What about you?" I asked, sitting forward slightly, elbow resting on my knee. "Did you finish lunch?"
"Hmm," she hummed proudly. "Yes. My mom packed chicken curry today. Ghee rotis. Spicy and soft."
I nearly whined. "Lucky devil."
"Aww," she cooed. "What about you? Your mom didn't pack anything?"
"She forgot," I said with mock betrayal. "Thought I was still on holiday."
She laughed—a proper laugh this time. "Poor Bhargav."
"Yeah, yeah," I said in my most dramatic, wounded-hero voice. "Suffering, I tell you."
She giggled again. "So what did you eat?"
"Ordered biryani from the canteen."
"Oooh. Sounds promising."
"Yeah, well," I deadpanned, "the rice is half-cooked and the chicken tastes like it wants to sue me for harassment."
She burst out laughing.
"Please don't tell me you picked a fight with the canteen bhaiyya again," she teased between chuckles.
"With what faith are you asking that?" I replied, half-smiling. "I've changed."
"You?" she gasped. "Changed? Impossible. You used to argue with me about the number of cashews in a pulao."
"That was special treatment," I said, grinning. "Only reserved for you."
"Lucky me," she said, her voice softening.
We paused. A few seconds, not long—but long enough to feel it.
"So," she broke the silence, "what's your good luck today?"
I blinked. And then I smiled.
"This call," I said, without hesitation.
Another pause.
Her voice came out quieter this time. "Are you flirting with me?"
I looked up at the sky, pretending I didn't notice the tiny thud in my chest. "…Maybe."
"Hmph." She clicked her tongue playfully. "Go back and eat your half-burnt, revenge-seeking biryani. Bye."
"I don't want to," I said, stretching out the words. "I want to eat something actually edible."
"Fine," she said after a second. "After our marriage, I'll cook you delicious food every day. Even desserts."
My heart skipped.
Actually skipped.
And then—
Silence.
My brain glitched.
My body froze.
Marriage?
What did she just—?
"Wait. Say that again," I blurted.
"NO!" she squeaked. "I meant… like… you know… after we sort everything out… I didn't mean— not soon… obviously not soon-soon."
I stayed quiet. Too stunned to breathe.
"Okay bye!" she panicked and hung up before I could say a word.
I stared at my phone.
Just stared.
Did she really—
My heart started racing, each thump echoing in my ears. I could feel my face heating up like someone had poured warm soup into my bloodstream. My ears were definitely red. I could feel them radiating like embers.
"God…" I muttered under my breath, burying my face in my hands. "Help me. I'm melting."
I took a few deep breaths, trying to reset my brain, but all I could think of was her voice—those last words. The way she sounded when she said it.
She thought about it. Even if it slipped.
She meant it.
For a second, she meant it.
To be continued...