What was strange was how casually he brushed it off. "It's nothing… just a family problem," he said. His tone was distant, sad in a way that made me curious, yet uneasy.
Priyanka, of course, didn't buy it. She always had this sharp intuition about people. "Something's fishy," she whispered to me. "Shresth isn't that simple. His DMs are always flooded with girls. I'm sure he has a girlfriend."
I didn't want to believe that. So, I asked him directly.
"Do you… have a girlfriend?"
His reply came fast. "No. Never had one. There was a situationship with a girl once, but she left me with a silly excuse—that her parents found out."
And like a fool, I believed him. I wanted to believe him. Silly me, thinking guys were so simple.
The next day, I checked his Instagram story. He'd driven up to some mountain. The caption read:
"Even mountains failed to fix my mental health."
Something about it… hurt. Like he was carrying a loss he never spoke about. Things were already complicated, and I barely knew him. Just yesterday we'd caught up, and now I was already tangled in his mystery.
We even talked about the kind of partners we'd want—way too fast for someone I'd just started talking to.
That evening, we chatted again. I told him about my two silly past crushes, my tiny teenage "relationship" that barely meant anything. I even told him I wasn't really looking for a partner right now.
But this time… something was off. He didn't sound the same as yesterday. His replies felt… disinterested. Detached. Like he was there but he wasn't really listening.
It hurt. More than it should have.
Yes, he still replied. Yes, he still talked about his past, his friends. But my gut kept screaming—something's wrong.
It had been only three days—14th, 15th, 16th—and I was already feeling a pull I couldn't explain. A string I couldn't cut.
And yet… his texts started coming late. Really late.
A "good morning" at 9 AM.
Then silence for six hours.
Then a random "hey" in the evening.
It annoyed me. It scared me. Because I could feel it happening—I was falling.
And I didn't even know why.
It wasn't his looks; I hadn't even seen him up close yet.
It wasn't money—we both came from similar families.
It wasn't intelligence; he wasn't some genius.
It was his aura. The way he spoke. The respect in his words. The way he made everything sound gentle. I thought it was genuine. I thought he was different. And that thought was my first mistake.
Priyanka sensed it too. She cared. She even asked him directly what was wrong. He brushed her off as well.
So she called Vidya—his sister, her benchmate. She told her everything. How I get attached easily. How if Shresth wasn't serious and was just casually flirting, he should stop. "Tell him to back off. Charu isn't into such things. She'll be heartbroken if this goes further."
Vidya promised she'd tell him.
And then it came—the text I'd been waiting for all morning.
He sent me his number. Just his number. And a single line:
"Call me when you are free"
My heart raced. My hands shook as I saved his contact. I named him Shresth🌙, because somehow, he reminded me of the moon—distant, calm, but maybe hiding scars I couldn't see.
And then… one more text.
"Ok. Then call."
What he said next on that call changed everything.
The dreams I had built, the illusions I was holding onto—
all of it…
shattered into tiny, sharp pieces.