🍒The Misunderstanding🍒
Chapter 4 — The Misunderstanding
"चाँदनी रात में भी अँधेरा सा छाया,
दिल की बातें लबों तक न आई,
एक मुस्कान, एक झिलमिल सी दूरी,
और कहानी शुरू हुई, बेचैनी के साये में।"
"Even in moonlit night, darkness lingered,
Words of the heart never reached the lips,
One smile, a twinkle of distance,
And the story began in the shadows of unrest."
---
Mount Abu was a watercolor come alive that winter — mist curling around pine trees, sunlight stretching over the lake, and the distant hum of students filling the quiet hills. The annual school trip had turned the usually strict St. Hilda's crowd into laughter and chaos.
Avni walked with her sketchbook pressed to her chest, the chill brushing against her cheeks. She wasn't one for noisy groups or endless selfies — she preferred the soft rhythm of footsteps on stone, the subtle hues of nature, and the quiet company of her thoughts.
Except, lately, her thoughts weren't so quiet.
They all seemed to lead to one person — Krivan Chugh.
---
He was standing a few feet ahead, jacket unzipped, hair tousled by the wind, surrounded by classmates — including Shruti Mehta. Shruti laughed at something he said, brushing her hair behind her ear, her shoulder brushing his arm.
It wasn't much. Not really. But it was enough to make Avni's fingers tighten around her sketchbook.
"Avni!" Aafreen called, breathless from climbing the temple steps. "You're spacing out again. You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile. "Just... tired."
But tired wasn't the word. It was more like... unsettled.
They reached the Dilwara Temples, their marble glinting pale and sacred in the faint drizzle that had begun to fall. The air smelled of wet earth and sandalwood, and the sound of rain echoed softly against the temple walls.
Avni stood under the archway, sketching the symmetry of the pillars, when her pencil froze mid-line.
Across the courtyard, she saw Shruti stumble slightly on the slick marble. And before she could think, Krivan reached out — steadying her by the shoulder, then offering his jacket as the drizzle grew. Shruti smiled, grateful, unaware of the storm she had just triggered elsewhere.
From Avni's angle, it looked intimate. Too intimate.
The kind of small gesture that shouldn't matter — but did.
Her breath caught. The rain blurred her vision, or maybe that was something else entirely.She turned away.
---
By the time they returned to the hostel resort, the rain had stopped, but something colder had settled inside her.
A bonfire crackled in the courtyard later that night — laughter, guitar strings, half-burnt marshmallows. Students huddled close, faces glowing orange under the flicker of flames.
Krivan sat with a few boys, half-listening, his gaze flickering every few minutes toward the other side of the fire — where Avni sat beside Aafreen, her sketchbook open but untouched.
The night smelled of smoke and damp pine.
The kind of night that begged for unspoken truths.
He finally stood, walking around the circle. "Hey," he said, quietly, stopping behind her.
Avni didn't look up. "Hey."
"You've been avoiding me all day."
She gave a small, humorless smile. "Maybe I've been busy. Observing things."
He frowned. "Observing what, exactly?"
Her pencil stilled. "You and Shruti looked close. Very... observant too."
Krivan blinked, confusion flashing to hurt. "What? Avni, she almost slipped — I was just—"
"Helping her. Right." She closed the sketchbook. "You don't have to explain. It's not like you owe me anything."
He took a step closer, the firelight catching the frustration in his eyes. "But I want to explain. Why won't you just—"
"Because sometimes," she interrupted, voice trembling, "the truth doesn't matter if the heart already believes the lie."
And with that, she got up and walked away — leaving him standing there, caught between the warmth of the fire and the chill of her silence.
---
Later that night, Krivan found himself sitting alone near the garden wall, the last embers of the bonfire fading into the mist.
He replayed every second — her expression, her tone, the way her hand trembled slightly when she spoke. He could've run after her. Should've, maybe. But something inside him — pride, fear, or maybe the ache of being misunderstood — kept him still.
Meanwhile, Avni sat by her dorm window, sketchbook open under the dim yellow bulb. Her lines tonight were dark, restless, unsteady — storm meeting flame. She tried sketching the bonfire, but every line curved into the outline of his face.
Aafreen stirred beside her. "You're thinking about him."
"I'm thinking about how easy it is to lose something you never really had," Avni murmured.
---
The next morning brought sunlight and schedules — another day of sightseeing before they returned to Udaipur.
At breakfast, Krivan approached her table, tray in hand. "Can I sit here?"
Aafreen hesitated but Avni nodded faintly. He sat down.
Neither spoke for a minute, the sound of chatter filling the silence between them. Then, softly, he said, "Avni... I don't know what you saw. But I need you to believe me — nothing happened. Shruti's just a classmate. I swear."
She looked up, her eyes tired but not cruel. "I know you think I should trust you. But... sometimes it's not about trust. It's about timing. You could've told me before I had to wonder."
He exhaled sharply. "So that's it? You'll just... shut me out?"
"I'm not shutting you out," she whispered. "I'm protecting myself."
He wanted to argue, to reach out, to bridge the space between them. But something in her voice — the quiet finality — stopped him.
Sometimes silence says what words cannot.
---
That evening, as the buses rolled down the winding hill roads, both of them sat near opposite windows.
The sky outside turned lavender, the air heavy with unfinished words.
Avni's sketchbook lay open on her lap — the last page a sketch of the temple under rain, two figures beneath one jacket, faces blurred.
Krivan, two rows behind, watched the reflection of her face in the window — soft, unreadable, distant.
Two hearts, close yet miles apart.
Two souls, yearning yet unspoken.
And somewhere in that fading light, a misunderstanding planted its first roots — the kind that would quietly change everything that came after.
---
"एक पल का ग़म, एक मुस्कान का इंतज़ार,
खामोशी में छुपी बातें, अधूरे प्यार की प्यास,
रात भर हमने सोचा, पर ना कहा कुछ भी,
और यूँ शुरू हुई दूरी, दिल के रास्तों में साज़िश का साथ।"
"A moment of sorrow, a wait for a smile,
Unspoken words, thirst of incomplete love,
We thought all night, but spoke nothing,
And so began the distance, with shadows in the heart's paths."
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End of Chapter 4
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