The next few days in Ahmedabad slipped by in a blur of adjusting, learning, and pretending I was more put-together than I actually was.
I slowly started falling into a routine—waking up to Kiara's alarm that she never turned off, stealing the bathroom before Vaani could, helping with random chores I had no idea how to do, and spending most of my time trying not to feel like a guest in someone else's life. The city was still new, still strange, but it no longer felt hostile. The roads didn't confuse me as much, the noise didn't overwhelm me instantly, and the flat was beginning to feel... familiar.
Almost like I belonged.
In between all that, I met more of Kiara's friends. People I'd only heard names of before suddenly had faces, voices, personalities. Nishit Raval and Akshay Shah. Akshay being Vaani's friends. They were nothing like I imagined, which was ironic because I hadn't imagined anything at all.
I met them one night when we decided to hang out at the riverfront.
Ahmedabad at night was different. Softer. Calmer. The river reflected city lights like scattered stars, and the breeze carried a kind of peace I wasn't used to. I stood there with Kiara and Vaani, watching people walk, laugh, exist, and felt like I was part of something bigger than my little bubble.
That's when they arrived.
Nishit and Akshay.
Introductions happened. Names exchanged. Polite smiles. And I did something extremely un-Misha-like.
I stayed quiet.
I had decided beforehand—very wisely, might I add—that it was not safe to unleash my full chaotic personality on people I was meeting for the first time. There was a reputation to protect. A first impression to maintain. I nodded, smiled, spoke when spoken to, and kept my comments limited to safe, normal human things like "yes" and "okay" and "that's nice."
Kiara looked at me like she was witnessing a rare species.
Then—just when I thought the night couldn't surprise me anymore—I saw him.
Kabir.
Standing there casually, like he hadn't just walked into my life unannounced.
My brain short-circuited. "KABIR?"
He turned and grinned. "MISHA?"
"What are you doing here?" I blurted.
"I work here now," he said. "Shifted a few weeks ago."
Of course you did. Of course everyone was secretly migrating to Ahmedabad and nobody thought to inform me.
It was strange, seeing a familiar face in a city that still felt new. Comforting, too.
While I barely spoke to Nishit and Akshay, I ended up talking to Kabir the most. Safe territory. Known chaos.
Our conversation made absolutely no sense.
"So how's life treating you?" he asked.
"Like a dramatic daily soap with bad background music."
"Still overthinking?"
"Professionally."
"Still crying over fictional men?"
"I have standards."
He laughed. "Still dramatic."
"I'm consistent," I said proudly.
We talked nonsense like that until everyone decided to get juice and soda. I stuck close to Kiara, trying not to look awkward, sipping my drink and observing everyone, mentally noting personalities and dynamics like I was watching a reality show.
Then we went home.
Simple. Calm. Normal.
And somehow, that calm felt like the deep breath before everything changed.
The weekend came too fast, and Sunday morning arrived like an enemy attack. I was sleeping peacefully when Kiara and Vaani stood outside my room, whispering like conspirators planning a crime.
"I'm not doing it," Kiara muttered. "You don't know what she becomes in the morning."
Vaani shot her a look. "I do. That's why I'm scared. But someone has to."
Vaani finally gathered courage and slipped into my room. She sat beside me and gently patted my head. "Misha... wake up. We're going out," she said in a soft, hopeful voice.
I didn't even open my eyes. "No," I replied instantly, voice muffled by the pillow.
She blinked. "Just... no?"
"Yes. No. Final answer."
"We'll get late," she tried again, a little firmer.
I turned my face deeper into the pillow. "Let me sleep. This is emotional violence. I will report this."
She sighed, clearly rethinking her life choices, and walked out. "She's your problem," she told Kiara. "I choose survival."
Kiara took a deep breath like a soldier going to war and entered the room. "Misha, wake up," she said, shaking my shoulder lightly.
I groaned. "Go away."
"Misha, get up."
"I refuse."
"We're leaving soon."
"This is injustice."
She shook me harder. "MISHA." I finally snapped awake, hair everywhere, eyes half open. "WHO DIED?" I croaked dramatically.
"No one," she said, hands on her hips. "But if you don't get up, I might."
I stared at her, then tried to flop back. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"I reject this plan."
After ten more minutes of arguing, threats, and her pulling my blanket away, I finally sat up, glaring at her. "You people don't respect artists," I muttered.
She rolled her eyes. "Get ready. Now."
"I will, but I will complain the entire time," I warned.
"That's normal," she said. "We're used to it."
An hour later, with me grumbling, yawning, and both of them babying me like I was a wounded child, we were finally ready to leave the house.
I was still half asleep when we stepped out of the apartment, my brain running on five percent battery and blind faith. The morning air hit my face, but nothing could prepare me for what my eyes were about to witness.
I looked up.
And I saw him.
Aarav Malhotra.
Standing there like he had every right to exist in my new city.
For one full second, my brain went, Oh, nice hallucination. Very realistic.
For the next second, it went, WAIT. HALLUCINATIONS DON'T NOD AT YOU.
Every trace of sleep evaporated from my body like it had never existed. I froze on the spot, staring at him as if he were a glitch in the universe.
Why is he here? Since when is he here? Who invited him? Did I miss a memo? Did Kiara secretly sell my life rights to destiny? Is this allowed? Is this karma? Is this a prank? WHERE ARE THE CAMERAS?
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. I looked exactly like a fish who had just realized water was optional in this world.
He gave me that tiny, stupid, calm smile.
And nodded.
Just... nodded.
That's it. That was the whole interaction.
Meanwhile, inside my head: SCREAM. RUN. FAINT. PRETEND YOU'RE INVISIBLE. WHY IS HE REAL? WHY IS HE BREATHING IN FRONT OF ME? UNIVERSE, THIS WAS NOT IN THE SYLLABUS.
I was still stuck in mental chaos when Rudra suddenly popped into my vision. "Misha!" he called out cheerfully.
I snapped out of it like someone had hit the reset button. "RUDRA," I yelled back, relief flooding through me. At least one familiar disaster I could handle.
Introductions started happening around me, names being exchanged, hellos being said, but I barely registered any of it. My soul was still hovering somewhere near Aarav, trying to understand his existence.
That's when I heard Kiara casually say, "Yeah, Aarav and Rudra are here for weekend. They will be leaving for Surat tonight."
Casually.
Like she hadn't just dropped a nuclear bomb on my emotional stability.
Oh, sure. Just here. In my city. In my morning. In my life. For a few hours. No big deal.
I nodded along like a normal person, but inside I was screaming, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. AARAV MALHOTRA HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.
And just like that, my peaceful, half-asleep Sunday officially died.
Before I could even process what my eyes had just seen, someone stepped directly into my line of sight.
"Misha!" Rudra called out.
I blinked, snapped back to reality, and turned toward him. "RUDRA," I replied, louder than necessary, like saying his name would ground me back into the present.
Recovery? Questionable. Functional? Barely.
I nodded, smiled, existed—but my mind was still stuck on one thing.
Aarav Malhotra. Standing there. Breathing. Real.
Then came the bikes. They rolled in like destiny with bad timing.
Everyone paired up instantly, like they'd rehearsed this moment. Kiara was already with Kabir, laughing. Vaani smoothly settled behind Akshay. No hesitation. No panic.
And then there was me.
Standing there like a confused, emotionally unstable chicken.
I looked at Aarav for half a second and immediately looked away. No. Absolutely not. Sitting behind him would require functional brain cells—and I was already losing those just by existing near him.
I scanned my options like my life depended on it.
Safety first.
I walked toward Nishit, clearing my throat. "Hi," I said. "I'll sit with you."
He nodded once. "Okay."
No drama. No pressure. Bless this man.
And just like that, Rudra went and sat behind Aarav, engines started, and the group took off—while I sat behind Nishit, gripping the seat and silently congratulating myself for choosing peace over emotional self-destruction.
It was… quiet.
Uncomfortably quiet.
Nishit rode ahead, focused, calm, not a single unnecessary movement. I sat behind him, silent, proud of myself for at least five minutes. Look at me, I thought. So mature. So composed.
Twenty minutes later, I was suffering.
This wasn't silence. This was psychological torture. I shifted slightly, cleared my throat, waited for conversation to magically appear.
Nothing.
I stared at the road. Then the sky. Then the trees speeding past. Then absolutely nothing. My brain started talking to itself because no one else was.
Why did I choose peace? I wondered bitterly. I hate peace. Peace is boring.
At one point, I even thought, Maybe sitting behind Aarav wouldn't have been so bad. At least my brain would've been malfunctioning instead of slowly dying from quiet.
The only saving grace was our first destination.
A Ganesha temple.
The moment we reached, something inside me softened, like my mind finally unclenched after hours of tension. I stepped inside, the noise of the road fading behind me, replaced by bells, prayers, and the familiar scent of incense.
I've always liked temples. There was comfort there—steady, grounding, uncomplicated. I folded my hands, closed my eyes, and for once, my thoughts slowed down instead of tripping over each other.
I didn't ask for anything big. No dramatic wishes. No life-altering demands.
Just… peace.
We stayed there for a while, and honestly, in the middle of all that travel and chaos, that quiet moment became the best part of the journey for me.
Then came lunch.
And that's when I officially decided that staying quiet was no longer an option for me, my sanity, or the general balance of the universe. The moment we sat down, I abandoned all dignity and slid right next to Kiara like my life depended on it.
I leaned in, voice low and scandalized. "This Nishit guy is too serious."
She didn't even look at me. Just snorted and said, "Eat your food."
"He hasn't spoken a full sentence in hours," I continued, eyes wide with concern. "What if he's judging me internally?"
Kiara finally glanced at me, unimpressed. "Or maybe," she said calmly, "he's just quiet."
"I don't trust quiet people," I whispered dramatically. "They're thinking things."
She laughed, actually laughed. "You're impossible."
I pouted, stabbing my food. "You abandoned me. You left me alone with him."
"You chose him," she reminded me sweetly.
"I DIDN'T KNOW THIS WOULD HAPPEN," I protested. "I made a decision under emotional pressure."
She shook her head, still smiling, and pushed my plate closer. "Eat before you start crying."
I ate. Begrudgingly. With the air of someone deeply wronged by fate.
And just like that, lunch ended. Helmets were back on, engines started, and we climbed onto the bikes again—me already mentally preparing myself for another round of forced silence.
Here we go again.
The bike moved, the road stretched endlessly ahead, and within five minutes I realized I absolutely could not survive another silent ride. My body was still, but my mind? Fully unhinged.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I started talking.
In my head.
What if I fall? What if I sneeze at a bad time? What if he thinks I'm weird?
Correction—I am weird.
Is this journey symbolic of life? Why am I like this?
I sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping, already tired of my own thoughts.
By the time evening settled in, we finally reached our last destination.
A famous Krishna temple.
The moment I saw it, my breath caught—not because of devotion, but because of the crowd. People everywhere. Moving, pushing, overlapping voices blending into noise that felt too loud, too close.
Something inside me tightened.
My hands started shaking before I could stop them. Sweat formed at my palms. My heart began racing like it had somewhere urgent to be without me. Anxiety arrived quietly, efficiently, like it always did.
I didn't say anything.
I didn't want attention. I didn't want questions. I didn't want to look weak.
So I went in.
Step by step.
Breathing felt wrong, shallow and rushed. The crowd pressed around me, bodies brushing past, and I focused on one thing—just get through it. Don't panic. Don't stop. Don't show it.
By the time we came out, my hands were shaking visibly.
I sat down quickly, tucking them close to myself, hoping no one noticed. Hoping I could disappear into the stone floor for a minute.
That's when Aarav spoke.
"Misha," he asked, voice calm, steady. "Why are your hands shaking?"
Every eye turned to me.
I froze.
Like a deer caught in headlights, brain screaming, body refusing to cooperate. I forced a weak smile, one I'd practiced too many times.
"Uh… crowd," I said lightly. "Too many people."
Rudra leaned in. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I replied too quickly. "Just that."
They looked away.
Conversation shifted.
But Kiara was still watching me—quiet, observant, suspicious.
And Aarav glanced once more, brief but sharp, like he didn't fully believe me.
I looked down.
The topic dropped.
Thank god.
Soon, we decided to leave.
The bike turned back onto the road, night air brushing against my face, and then—something unbelievable happened. Nishit finally spoke."So… what do you like?" he asked, casually, like he hadn't just unlocked a monster.
And that was it.
The switch flipped.
"OKAY FIRST OF ALL," I burst out, words tumbling over each other, "I LOVE MOVIES BUT ONLY THE ONES THAT RUIN ME EMOTIONALLY. AND I READ NOVELS. AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON ANIME—"He laughed. "You like anime?""LIKE? I LIVE FOR IT. ALSO CARTOONS. AND RANDOM YOUTUBE VIDEOS. AND I OVERTHINK EVERYTHING. AND I TALK A LOT. CLEARLY."
And somehow… he didn't stop me.
We talked for two straight hours.
About everything. Movies that broke us, shows we'd rewatched too many times, childhood cartoons we still defended, weird habits we pretended were normal. Time slipped by quietly, unnoticed, like it didn't want to interrupt us.
At some point, the familiar ache began.
A slow pressure behind my eyes. Then sharper. My migraine creeping in, uninvited, unwelcome. I searched my bag mentally and realized—I didn't have my medicine.
Panic followed pain.
My head throbbed harder with every passing minute. Light felt too bright. Noise felt heavier. I didn't say anything, didn't want to ruin the moment, didn't want to be that person again.
I leaned forward without thinking, resting my head lightly against Nishit's back.
Just for a second, I told myself.Just until it passes.
My eyes closed.
And the world went quiet.
When I woke up, it was midnight.
We were home.
Everyone decided to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant, hunger hitting us all at once. We ate like we'd been starving for days—laughing between bites, exhausted, happy in that soft, end-of-day way.
Then, one by one, everyone left.
Back to their homes.Back to their routines.Back to their lives.
When I finally lay in bed that night, exhaustion sinking deep into my bones, my mind refused to slow down. Moments replayed on a loop—Aarav. Rudra. The ride. The crowd. My shaking hands. My silence.
And then it hit me.
I hadn't spoken to Aarav at all.
Not really.
Except for that one question.
A heaviness settled in my chest, uncomfortable and familiar. I didn't want to unpack it. Didn't want to understand it. Didn't want to feel it.
So I didn't.
I closed my eyes.
And let sleep take me.