The setting sun cast long shadows across the familiar canteen, painting the walls in hues of gold and amber. It was their spot, the one where campus gossip had christened them "the simple couple." Chinmoy leaned against a chipped table, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.
"Remember this place, Naina? Our place."
Naina’s smile was tinged with nostalgia. "Those days feel like a lifetime ago."
"Speaking of lifetimes," Chinmoy chuckled, "I have to thank you for the countless boxes of sweets and sev. I always knew they were from home, smuggled in through Thebdi and Nitish. Their elaborate cover stories – Nitish claiming orange sweets were a Chennai delicacy, Suruchi insisting her Jodhpur family had a sudden penchant for Nagpur’s Sansarchand Mithaiwale – were hilariously transparent."
Naina laughed, a genuine sound he’d missed. "Impressed by your deduction skills, Mr. Logical Chinu. Though, I must admit, I knew about the reports and slides you made for me these past two years."
Chinmoy feigned shock. "Thebdi’s loose lips strike again! I’ll have her hide."
"Please," Naina rolled her eyes. "I just checked the file properties. ‘Chinu’ as the author, or the auth code pgpm523 – not exactly subtle."
"Smart girl," Chinmoy conceded. "No wonder that MNC hospital snapped you up for their HR department."
"Sarcasm detected," Naina retorted, a playful glint in her eyes.
Just then, Suruchi burst into the canteen, her usual whirlwind of energy. "You two finally talking! Naina, come on! Warden’s clearance, packing, the cab’s almost here!"
The next hour was a blur of hurried goodbyes and frantic luggage loading. The cab driver, impatient and harried, barked about extra charges for the overflowing bags. The sky, mirroring their emotions, was a heavy, bruised grey. As Chinmoy helped load the last suitcase, he felt a strange hollowness settle in his chest.
Suruchi, ever the affectionate one, gave him a warm hug. "Thanks for all the amazing cultural nights, Chinu! I’m going to miss you, dude. All the best!"
"Love you, Di," Chinmoy replied, a genuine warmth spreading through him. "I promise, no more ‘Thebdi’.”
Naina’s goodbye was more restrained. "Thanks, Chinu. Even with the misunderstandings, you were always there."
Chinmoy’s voice was low, sincere. "I’m sorry, Naina. For everything. Especially… that day."
"It’s okay, Chinu,” she said softly. “Bye.”
As the cab pulled away, Chinmoy retreated to a nearby bench, the same one where they’d shared countless conversations, late-night study sessions, and stolen glances. A strange, unfamiliar ache settled in his heart.
Then, the cab stopped just down the road. Naina stepped out. Chinmoy’s heart leaped. He rushed towards her, confusion etched on his face. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?”
Naina’s eyes were searching, earnest. “Chinu, for years, I’ve wanted to ask you… why do you hate me so much?”
Chinmoy’s breath caught. “I… I never hated you.”
“Then what was it?” she pleaded, her voice thick with emotion. “Tell me!”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, unable to articulate the tangled mess of feelings inside him.
“Nothing?” Naina’s voice cracked. “Great. Wonderful.”
“Naina, you have to go,” he urged, his voice tight. “You’ll miss your train.”
“Right,” she whispered. “I have to go...I need to”
She stepped closer, her eyes locking with his. Then, she did something he hadn’t expected. She hugged him, a brief, desperate embrace. “Chinu,” she murmured against his chest, “you never understood me.”
She pulled away, got back into the cab, and it finally drove away, disappearing down the road.
The sun, now sinking below the horizon, painted the campus in soft hues of rose and gold. A cool breeze swept across the grounds. Chinmoy stood there, alone, the echo of Naina’s words ringing in his ears. He looked up at the vast expanse of the sky, as if searching for an answer written among the clouds. A single tear traced a path down his cheek. As the last rays faded, Chinmoy sat down, the warmth of the day still lingering in the air. He closed his eyes, and in the quietude, he could almost hear the echoes of laughter, the rustle of papers, and the soft murmur of their voices, a timeless symphony of their shared past.
He whispered, the words barely audible, carried away by the gentle wind: “I love you, Naina.”
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