Bhargav's POV
Fuck.
I buried my face in my palms as the professor's voice droned on at the front of the classroom. Words were flying across the projector, discussions happening around me, pens scribbling furiously—but none of it reached me. None of it even mattered.
My mind was stuck—frozen in a loop I couldn't escape.
I don't know what to do.
My leg bounced restlessly under the desk, and I chewed on the cap of my pen like it could give me answers. But it didn't. It never did.
I couldn't focus. Not when every thought was circling back to her—to the look on her face as we drove home yesterday. The silence that stretched between us. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful, but guarded. Heavy.
She didn't question anything.
Not after I told her not to.
Not after I said, "Leave it, Siri. Please."
And she did. Quietly. Without protest. Without pressing.
But that's what scared me.
Because Siri always asked. Always wanted to understand.
But yesterday? She just nodded. Bit her lip and nodded like she'd accepted something.
But what?
What did she think I was hiding? What conclusion did she draw in that quiet, wounded way of hers?
I scribbled something meaningless in my notebook, then tore the page out. Crumpled it. Tossed it under the desk.
Still, nothing felt right.
I still feel something… wrong.
My chest tightened with the thought.
What if she thinks I betrayed her?
What if she thinks I pushed her to this position?
That I handed her heart over to someone I didn't know that he would break it?
My breath caught. The edges of my vision blurred slightly, not from tears, but panic.
No. She wouldn't think that.
She won't.
She knows me.
Right?
I hope so.
God, please. Please let her know I'd never—
Please God. Please Siri.
Don't let her misunderstand me.
I closed my eyes briefly, blocking out the lecture, the lights, the dull buzz of classroom chatter. I let the memory of her flood me—her quiet strength, her soft-spoken fury, her loyalty, her brokenness.
And her trust.
Or what was left of it.
I think I'll lose her trust.
A chill passed through me. One that didn't come from the air conditioner. One that burrowed into my spine.
Or I already did.
The thought hit me harder than I expected. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for my water bottle and took a sip, hoping it would drown the ache in my throat.
I glanced at my phone beneath the desk. No new messages. No texts from her. Not even a "reached office" or a "have you eaten?" like she sometimes sent before.
My fingers hovered over her chat window.
Typed: "You okay?"
Deleted it.
Typed again: "Let's talk later?"
Deleted that too.
It was too soon. Or maybe too late.
A voice from beside me whispered, "Dude, are you even here today?"
I blinked. It was Sameer, nudging me with his elbow.
"Huh? Yeah. Just… headache," I muttered.
He raised a brow. "You look like you just found out your dog ran away with your girlfriend."
I forced a dry laugh. "Something like that."
Sameer leaned back, unfazed, and went back to pretending to pay attention.
But I couldn't pretend.
I was unraveling.
I leaned forward, resting my forehead on my folded arms atop the desk, and breathed in deep.
I needed to fix this.
I needed her to know the truth.
And if there was even a sliver of doubt in her mind—that I knew something, that I let something happen—I had to crush it before it grew into something unforgivable.
I'd talk to her tonight. Or tomorrow. Or whenever she'd let me in again.
Even if she didn't say it, even if she acted like everything was fine—I could see it in her silence.
She wasn't fine.
And neither was I.
Siri's POV
I shouldn't have come.
I knew it the moment I stepped out of the office gate, still wearing my ID card and carrying my laptop bag like it would shield me from the storm I was willingly walking into. The evening air was still thick with the scent of rush hour—hot tires, petrol fumes, and fried street food. The streetlights blinked on above me, flickering like my confidence.
Every step I took felt wrong. My chest was heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and unanswered questions—Bhargav's voice from yesterday still echoing inside my skull.
"I knew it, Bhargav. I guessed you two would be close the day you answered everything I asked about her."
That sentence haunted me like a whisper I couldn't shake off. It wasn't just Abhi's betrayal that disturbed me now—it was the way Bhargav looked at me afterward. As if he thought I might never forgive him.
But he hadn't done anything wrong… right?
Still, something about his silence—about the way he didn't explain, about how he shut down my questions—left a knot in my throat.
I want to know what it was. The questions Abhi asked. The answers Bhargav gave. What were they?
How do they know each other? And why didn't Bhargav ever tell me?
He had the chance. So many chances.
I opened my phone, scrolling through my contact list until his name appeared like a bruise I couldn't ignore.
Abhi.
My thumb hovered over "Call."
I hesitated.
Was it worth it? Was digging into the past really necessary?
Yes. Yes, it was.
Because Bhargav matters. Because this thing between us—whatever it is—is too fragile to carry shadows. I need light.
With a trembling breath, I typed:
"Need to talk. Just 10 mins. Just talk."
To my surprise, his reply came within seconds.
"Meet me at the park in 20 minutes."
---
The park was quiet, cloaked in early night, shadows stretching across the cobbled pathways. The same place where we used to walk hand-in-hand like strangers playing lovers. Now it felt alien. Dead. Haunted.
He was already there, lounging on a bench with that same overconfident posture that used to make me feel safe… before it all went to hell.
"I didn't think you'd really come," he said with a faint chuckle, eyes sharp and lazy all at once.
"I didn't think you'd say yes," I replied, voice sharper than I intended. My fingers were ice-cold. I didn't sit. Not yet.
He nodded like he expected that answer, then leaned forward, elbows on knees. "So… what do you want to know?"
I cut straight to it. "How do you know Bhargav?"
That got his attention.
He sat upright slowly, rubbed the back of his neck, and exhaled hard. "Right. So it is about him."
"Answer the question," I said. "Please."
He looked away for a second, like he was staring at ghosts beneath the swing set.
"It was college," he said finally. "First year. I didn't know anyone. I was still pretending to be cooler than I was. Indu was in one of my classes. We talked, occasionally hung out after lectures."
I didn't interrupt. My silence urged him on.
"One day, there was this college fest. I saw you there. You were with Indu and a boy… Bhargav. At that time, I assumed he was just a friend tagging along. But… he never took his eyes off you."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, locking eyes with me, "he didn't look like a kid who had a crush. He looked like a soldier guarding a castle. Always aware. Always watching."
Something inside my chest shifted.
"I asked Indu who you were," Abhi continued. "She brushed it off. Said you were off-limits. That I shouldn't bother."
I scoffed. "Didn't stop you."
"No," he agreed. "Didn't stop me. So one day, I found Bhargav sitting alone. Reading. I sat next to him and introduced myself."
I raised a brow. "What did he say?"
"He looked at me like I was interrupting something sacred," Abhi muttered. "Didn't say much. Until I got to the point."
I crossed my arms. "And that was?"
"I told him I liked you. That I wanted to talk to you but didn't know where to start. Thought he might help me out."
I froze. "And he did?"
Abhi laughed, dry and bitter. "You'd be surprised. He told me everything."
My stomach twisted. "Like what?"
"Your favorite ice cream—butterscotch. That you always wear your watch on the right hand. That you talk fast when you're nervous. That you once cried at the sight of a dead bird on the road and wouldn't stop thinking about it for days. That you hate roses but love sunflowers."
I swallowed.
Every detail.
All of it.
Not accidents. Not coincidences.
It was Bhargav.
I remembered the day Abhi showed up with a sunflower clip for my birthday, when I was expecting nothing. I thought it was sweet. Thought he noticed. But it wasn't him.
"He asked me one thing," Abhi added, snapping me from my thoughts. "'Why do you want to know all this?' I said because I wanted you to like me. And he just… looked at me. Cold. Quiet."
My voice was barely a whisper. "Did you ask him if he liked me?"
"I did," he said. "And he denied it immediately. Too fast. Too rehearsed. But I saw through it. He wasn't just some quiet guy with a good memory. He was… in love. Probably still is."
I looked down, blinking quickly. The sudden moisture in my eyes was overwhelming.
"I didn't tell you any of this back then because I was selfish," he admitted. "I used what he gave me. And then I—"
"Cheated."
"Yes." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Siri. I know it doesn't change anything. But you deserved the truth. At least now."
I finally sat down. Slowly. My voice came soft, but firm.
"Thank you… for being honest."
He nodded.
I looked at him one last time. "Now, don't ever come near me again."
He stiffened. "I won't." His voice low.
I stood. And walked.
I didn't look back.
Couldn't. Didn't want to.
That night, as I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan slicing through the air like a metronome ticking through the quiet chaos in my chest—I smiled.
A stupid, teary, bitter smile.
I whispered aloud, like an idiot, "He remembered everything."
He saw me when no one else did. Remembered the little details even I forgot about myself.
He was never clueless.
He just… stayed silent.
Then another thought followed, sharper, messier.
If he loved me back then—why did he fight with me so much? Why did he always seem distant?
Tears slipped down again, but these weren't from heartbreak.
They were from… realization.
From anger. With myself.
I had doubted him. After everything.
He handled me like glass while I shattered in his hands. He took the blame. For us. For something we both did.
And I?
I clung to my pain, pretending to be the victim.
I let the past own me. Let Abhi's betrayal chain me in fear.
No more.
I need to let go.
The anger.
The guilt.
The fear of not being enough.
I whispered into the darkness, "I'm sorry, Bhargav."
And for the first time… I meant it.
Idiot. Both. Me. And him.
A tear slipped from my eye.
Not from sadness.
But from happiness.
From realisation.
From anger. With Myself.
I hated myself for suspecting him.
After all, I guess he loved me.
Maybe he still does.
My chest felt like it was being twisted.
What should I do? Till now Bhargav was the one who did everything. He put all his efforts
Me? I acted like the victim while he took the complete responsibility for what we both did together.
I'm useless. Really. What the fuck was I thinking?
I need to change.
I can't keep stuck with the past. Stuck with Abhi.
I need to let go.
All of it.
To be continued...