Riyan had never known silence could be this loud.The campus buzzed with its usual noise—lectures, footsteps in corridors, laughter spilling from canteens—but for him, every sound was swallowed by one absence. Ananya.
Days had passed since the temple. Since that reckless moment that still haunted his fingertips. But after the rumors began to spread, she had vanished. No stolen glances in class. No hurried walk down the corridors. No brush of her dupatta when she rushed past him.
Nothing.
The Empty Seat
He lingered outside her classroom, pretending to scroll through his phone, his eyes fixed on the empty bench where she used to sit. It was like staring at a missing piece of himself.
At first, he told himself she was sick. A fever, maybe. A cold. Something ordinary. But as the days stretched on, whispers began to reach him.
She's not allowed out.Her parents found out everything.She's locked in at home.
The words twisted inside his chest like a blade.
The Weight of Rumors
He cornered Kabir by the library one evening. "You've been to her place. Tell me the truth."
Kabir hesitated, eyes darting around. The guilt on his face was answer enough. "Riyan… things are bad. They've shut her in. No phone, no classes. Nothing."
The world tilted under his feet. "And you're only telling me this now?"
"I couldn't—her father—if anyone knew I spoke to you—"
Riyan grabbed his friend's arm, his voice low but fierce. "I don't care about the risk. She's in there alone, suffocating, and you expect me to sit here doing nothing?"
Kabir's eyes softened. "I know. But you can't just storm their house. You'll only make it worse for her."
Worse. The word echoed, taunting him.
The Desperation
That night, Riyan couldn't sleep. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his hostel room, replaying every moment in his head. The way her eyes had found his in the temple crowd. The way her hand had trembled against his. The kiss that had sealed itself into his soul.
And now—she was behind walls. Alone. Maybe crying into her pillow, maybe staring at a locked door, maybe blaming herself for everything.
He sat up, pressing his palms over his face. He couldn't stand it. The thought of her suffering while he did nothing was unbearable.
His friends tried to reason with him. Be patient. Wait. She'll come back.But patience felt like betrayal.
The First Sparks of Resolve
By morning, Riyan's exhaustion had hardened into something else. Resolve.
If her parents thought they could bury her voice, he would find a way to reach her. If they thought they could erase him from her life, they had underestimated the strength of what they had lit between them.
He couldn't barge into her house, not yet. But he could find cracks in their walls. He could send a message, a symbol, a reminder that she wasn't alone.
She needed to know he was still fighting. That she wasn't forgotten. That the kiss in the temple wasn't their last breath together.
As he left his hostel with eyes sharper, stride steadier, he knew one thing:He would not let them cage her heart.
Not while his own still beat for her.