DIYA'S POV
The first night with Maddy back on campus felt like exhaling after holding my breath for weeks.
We didn't need grand plans. No fanfare, no dramatic declarations. Just us—walking familiar paths, our shoulders brushing, our steps syncing like they'd never been apart. He told me stories about his hometown, his voice low and warm in the gathering dark, and I showed him the shady corner near the canteen that served passable tea.
Under the sprawling branches of an old banyan tree, we sat, knees touching, watching the stars blink to life one by one.
They're brighter with you here, I almost said.
But I didn't have to.
The way his fingers tangled with mine said it for me.
Morning came too soon. The mess hall food was borderline inedible, but Maddy's laugh—rich and unguarded—made it taste like a feast.
"You really need to work on your poker face," he teased, stealing a bite of my toast.
I leaned in, grinning. "And you really need to stop acting like you're not in love with me."
His fork clattered to the tray.
For a heartbeat, he just stared. Then—that smirk. The one that curled my toes. "I never said I wasn't."
Damn him.
Always one step ahead. Always leaving me breathless.
Classes pulled us apart, but never for long. Between lectures, we stole moments—a shared samosa near the admin block, a shoulder bump in crowded corridors, his hand brushing the small of my back as he guided me through a door.
And when Harsh slouched into our lunch circle, throwing Maddy a lazy smirk and a half-hearted bro-hug, something inside me clicked.
Two worlds, one orbit.
This was how it was meant to be.
As dusk painted the campus in gold and violet, we claimed a bench near the library, the weight of his thigh against mine a silent promise.
"So… how does it feel?" I asked. "Being here. Starting this all over again."
His gaze drifted across the field before settling on me. "Feels like I came home."
My chest ached.
Because I knew—no matter what storms college would bring, no matter what fights or stress or sleepless nights awaited us—
This was our anchor.
This quiet, unshakable certainty.
MADDY'S POV
I'd forgotten how loud silence could be.
Not the empty kind. The full kind—the one that hummed between us as we walked, as we sat under that ancient tree, as her knee pressed into mine like she needed the contact as much as I did.
The campus was new, but this—us—felt like muscle memory.
Breakfast was a disaster of stale toast and weak chai, but Diya's laugh turned it into the best meal I'd had in weeks.
"And you really need to stop acting like you're not in love with me," she said, eyes sparkling with challenge.
The words hit me like a sucker punch.
Not because they weren't true.
But because she knew. She'd always known.
"I never said I wasn't," I shot back, watching her breath catch.
Worth it.
The day unfolded in snapshots—her waving at me from across the quad, Harsh's dry "you survived, then" greeting, the way her fingers instinctively sought mine every time we were within reach.
By evening, the air was thick with the scent of rain and fresh-cut grass.
"How does it feel?" she asked, swinging her legs on the library bench.
I looked at her—really looked—and the answer came effortlessly.
"Feels like I came home."
Her smile was softer than the sunset.
And just like that, I knew:
We weren't just starting something new.
We were stepping into the life we'd been fighting for all along.