The campus had never looked so alive.
The sound of whistles, cheers, and running footsteps filled the air. Colourful
banners fluttered, food stalls spread tempting smells across the ground, and
students roamed around in packs, shouting each other's names, competing,
laughing.
It was Polympic—the annual sports fest of the college.
For some, it was the highlight of the year. For him, it was just another
reminder of how far away from life he had drifted.
But Rahul didn't give him a choice.
"Chal na, bas ek ghanta. You can't rot in that room forever," Rahul had said
that morning, practically dragging him out by the arm.
And so he came. Against his will, but here he was.
He stood near the edge of the field, watching the chaos with dull eyes. He
didn't look like he belonged.
His body had changed. Two months of silence and self-destruction had
stripped him bare. His T-shirt hung loose over his frame, his trackpants were
wrinkled, and his slippers half-broken. His hair, once neatly trimmed, now fell
wild over his forehead, his beard unshaped, his eyes sunken into dark circles.
He looked like a shadow of the boy who once laughed the loudest at the tea
stall.
And yet, as he stood there, sipping the watery tea Rahul had handed him,
watching students run the relay, he felt—strangely—a flicker of calm. For the
first time in weeks, his mind wasn't looping the same memories. For the first
time, he wasn't drowning.
A group of juniors shouted encouragements at their team, and for a brief
second, he almost smiled.
Until his gaze wandered.
And found her.
She stood across the field.
Her hair tied neatly back, a plain white top tucked into loose baggy pants,
sneakers on her feet. She was laughing with her group of friends, her voice
carried by the wind.
And he froze.
This wasn't the girl he remembered—the girl in simple kurtis, soft eyes, a
shy smile. This version of her looked louder, brighter, sharper. She looked
like she belonged in this world of lights and noise. And yet, no matter how
different, no matter how changed… his heart ached the same.
He looked away instantly, his throat dry, chest tight. He hadn't seen her
since… since everything. The room spun for a moment.
Not here. Not now. Please.
But fate is cruel.
A group of seniors spotted him standing awkwardly near the corner. Mischief
lit their faces.
"Arre, look who's alive!" one of them shouted. "The hermit has stepped out
of his cave!"
Laughter followed. More eyes turned.
He tried to back away, to disappear into the crowd. But before he could,
Sneha—a senior notorious for her pranks—grabbed his wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?" she teased, pulling him forward.
He shook his head. "Please, I don't—"
But she didn't let go.
With a wicked grin, she pressed his hand tightly against her chest.
"See, he's still shy! Look, look—he's blushing already!"
The group roared with laughter. Someone clapped loudly. Others whistled. He
burned inside with humiliation, his face hot, his heart thudding painfully
against his ribs. He pulled, but her grip only tightened.
And then, the voice he dreaded most sliced through the noise.
"Hey fresher! Come here!"
Everything stilled.
The sound of her calling out, playful and sharp, struck him like a blade.
She stepped forward from her group. Slowly. Reluctantly. But she came. Her
white top gleamed under the sunlight, her sneakers tapping against the ground.
She stood in front of him, looking directly into his eyes.
He searched her face desperately—searching for warmth, for softness, for
anything familiar.
There was nothing.
Her eyes held only distance.
And then Aniruddha, another senior, smirked. With an exaggerated flourish,
he plucked her bag from her shoulder and shoved it into his hands.
"A girl shouldn't carry a bag. That's your job now."
The crowd burst out laughing again.
He stood frozen, the weight of the bag in his hands heavier than stone. His
throat closed, his stomach knotted. Around him, laughter echoed. She didn't
protest. She didn't move. She just watched.
The humiliation dug deeper with every second.
How did I get here?
Why am I the joke?
Why does she let them…
His hands shook. The bag slipped slightly in his grip.
And then—something broke.
With sudden violence, he hurled the bag to the ground. The thud silenced the
laughter for a second. His chest heaved as he pulled his hand free from Sneha's
grip, jerking his arm back with more force than he intended.
"Enough."
His voice was low, but steady.
Nobody laughed. Nobody moved.
He didn't wait. Didn't look back. Didn't care for their shocked faces. He
turned and walked away, his steps heavy, his eyes burning.
Every sound around him blurred—the cheers, the music, the games. His ears
rang with only his heartbeat.
Behind him, her bag still lay on the ground.
Behind him, the laughter still hung, suspended in the air.
Behind him, his own heart tore into pieces all over again.
And once more, he was alone.