Morning poured through the half-open curtains of Ananya's room, laying thin stripes of sunlight across her study table. The world outside felt ordinary again: the sound of a street hawker, the hum of traffic, the clink of her mother's bangles in the kitchen. Ordinary—and after everything that had happened with Arav, ordinary felt like peace.
Six months had passed since the dark week of his arrest, and life had begun to settle into rhythm. Arav was back in college, quieter now, gentler in his speech, as though the world had taught him something about silence. Every morning a small message from him waited on her phone—nothing dramatic, just "Good morning, sunshine" or "Reach college safely." To Ananya, those words meant more than any promise.
That Sunday was supposed to be simple: her cousin Riya was coming from Delhi after nearly a year. The house smelled of cardamom tea and fresh paint; her mother had been tidying the guest room since morning.
"Anu! Check if the sheets are dry," her mother called.
"I already did, Ma," Ananya answered, smiling. She liked these small domestic rushes—the soft noise of family before guests arrived.
By noon, a blue car stopped outside. Riya stepped out in a cloud of perfume and laughter. She looked radiant—taller, her hair shorter, her eyes lined in soft brown kohl that made her look older, almost movie-like.
"Anu!" she shouted, hugging her cousin tightly. "You didn't even call me last month! I had to text Ma to ask if you were alive."
Ananya laughed. "College, projects, life… you know how it is."
Riya rolled her eyes. "I will, when I actually start living it."
They spent the afternoon catching up—sharing gossip, trying on each other's earrings, flipping through photos. When Riya scrolled through Ananya's phone, she paused on a picture of Ananya and Arav at the college fest.
"Ooooh, who's this?" she teased.
"That's Arav," Ananya said shyly, cheeks turning pink. "My… friend."
"Friend, huh? You're blushing like it's your wedding."
Ananya threw a pillow at her, laughing. "Okay fine, he's my boyfriend. Happy?"
Riya whistled softly. "You didn't tell me! He's handsome. And look at you two—you match!"
The sound of the doorbell interrupted them. Ananya got up, half-smiling. "Speak of the devil, that must be him. He said he'd drop by for a minute."
Riya raised her brows mischievously. "I get to meet the Arav today? Perfect timing."
Ananya opened the door, and there he was—white shirt, jeans, holding a small wrapped parcel. "You left your economics book in the library yesterday," he said, smiling. "Thought you might need it before Monday."
Before she could reply, Riya appeared beside her. "You must be Arav," she said brightly. "I've heard so much already!"
He chuckled. "All good things, I hope?"
"Mostly!" Riya grinned.
Ananya brought them inside. Tea was poured, small snacks passed around. The conversation stayed light—college life, subjects, how crowded the canteen was. Riya asked a dozen curious questions; Arav answered each politely. When Riya joked about professors who never stopped talking, he laughed, and Ananya found herself smiling at the sight of the two of them getting along so easily.
She didn't notice the subtle comfort between them—the way new acquaintances sometimes find rhythm faster than expected. For her, it was pure relief: the two people she cared about most seemed to like each other.
Riya leaned forward, balancing her cup on her knee.
"So, Arav," she said lightly, "how do you survive the economics department? I heard the teachers there are straight out of a horror story."
Arav laughed. "They're not so bad once you realise they just love equations more than people. I pretend to take notes."
"Ah, classic student strategy." Riya winked.
Ananya watched them, half-amused. Usually Arav was quiet around new people; now he seemed relaxed, even talkative. Maybe it was Riya's easy energy. It made the air brighter, like an unexpected breeze after summer heat.
Her mother came in with another tray of samosas. "You three could talk the whole day," she said, smiling. "Ananya, help serve."
"Yes, Ma." Ananya moved to the kitchen, returning with napkins. From the doorway she saw Riya and Arav still talking—about Delhi, about cafés near campus, about movies. She felt a soft warmth in her chest: this was what she'd always wanted, her worlds fitting together neatly.
When evening stretched toward gold, Arav stood to leave. "I should go before it gets late," he said.
Riya offered a friendly smile. "It was nice meeting you. Maybe we'll bump into each other again—college events or something."
"Sure," he said easily. "Take care."
After he left, Riya nudged Ananya. "He's sweet. You got lucky, Anu."
"I know," Ananya said, a little shy. "He's different."
That night she fell asleep replaying every moment—the sound of his laugh mingling with Riya's, the way he'd looked at her before leaving, gentle and steady.
Over the next weeks, life moved quietly forward. Riya extended her stay for a short internship nearby; her visits to Ananya's campus became common. Sometimes she brought lunchboxes from home, sometimes she waited by the gate until Ananya's classes finished. Arav often joined them; the three of them would sit beneath the banyan tree sharing jokes and stories.
It felt innocent, even beautiful. Ananya thought of it as friendship expanding, not love shifting. She didn't notice that when her phone buzzed in the evenings, the notifications were not always hers.
Riya and Arav had exchanged numbers that first afternoon, "just to share notes," Riya had said. And they did—group project ideas, college events, random memes. Arav mentioned it casually once; Ananya smiled and said, "That's nice." She trusted him completely.
Trust became her favourite habit.
Weeks turned into months. The monsoon passed, and with it came exams, celebrations, and the usual chaos of youth. Ananya's life felt full again — her studies were stable, her home calm, and her relationship with Aarav steady like a heartbeat she didn't question anymore.
Sometimes, when she walked into the college canteen, she'd find Aarav already sitting there — sometimes alone, sometimes with Riya. They'd wave her over, Riya always smiling first, pulling out a chair. It looked natural, harmless. The three of them had become an easy picture: laughter, tea glasses, and shared notebooks.
Riya often helped Ananya with assignments and in return, Ananya taught her a few tricks to deal with stubborn professors. They became friends — or so Ananya believed — and every moment seemed like a small gift, proof that her world was finally settling into something good.
One evening, while returning from class, Ananya stopped by the temple near the bus stand. She folded her hands and closed her eyes, whispering a small prayer.
"Keep us safe," she said softly, "and let our love stay honest."
She smiled at the thought of Aarav's face — his quiet voice, his promises — and walked home under the streetlights, unaware of how many silent changes had already begun.
Elsewhere, Riya sat in her room, scrolling through her phone. Aarav's name blinked on the screen — new message.
She hesitated before opening it, her heart skipping in a rhythm she didn't want to name.
Aarav: "Thanks for the notes again. You always save me."
Riya: "Anytime. You know you can count on me."
She stared at those words longer than she should have.
It was still friendly, still innocent. But the air around her felt different — heavy, charged with something unnamed. She told herself it was nothing, just kindness. Yet, when she put down her phone, she couldn't help smiling quietly in the dark.
And while another message quietly blinked on Riya's phone, miles away Ananya sat by her window, the moonlight touching her face. She thought of Aarav and texted him "Good night, love."
He replied with a simple heart emoji.
She smiled, hugged her pillow, and whispered to herself,
"He's mine… and always will be."
Little did she know, destiny had already begun to shift the ground beneath her feet — softly, silently, almost lovingly.