Fragile Hearts

C h a p t e r - 47

The morning sun streamed through the window of Siddharth’s room. Today wasn’t just any day—it was his 18th birthday, a milestone that marked his official entry into adulthood.

Not that Siddharth cared much about it. Birthdays were just another day for him, but somewhere deep down, he hoped this one might be different.

As his groggy eyes fluttered open hearing the sound of muffled giggles which broke the silence. The door creaked open, and three familiar shadows loomed over his bed.

Arun: "Three… two… one…" his countdown was followed by chaos.

Rahul: "WAKE UP, OLD MAN!" he yelled, launching himself onto the bed.

Vikram: "Siddharth periya paiyan ayita, ipdi poruppu illama thoongitu iruka... elundhuru elundhuru..." he ripping the blanket off Siddharth in one swift motion.

Arun, armed with a pillow, whacked him on the head.

Siddharth: "What the f—GUYS!" he groaned, as he tried to shield himself from the barrage of attacks.

Vikram: "No bad wordss..."

Arun: "Happy Birthday, you grumpy football nerd!" he yelled, holding up a slightly squished cupcake with a single candle stuck in the middle.

Rahul: "Na adha sapduradhuku munnadi cut panniru..." He joked, licking his lips.

Siddharth glared at them, still half-asleep.

Siddharth: "Ipdi oru birthday surprise expect pannala..."

Rahul: "We are good friends," he said shoving the cupcake closer to his face.

Rolling his eyes, Siddharth grudgingly sat up. The boys broke into a hilarious birthday song, with Arun hitting ridiculous high notes that made everyone burst into laughter.

Finally, Siddharth blew out the candle and took a small bite of the cupcake before shoving the rest into Arun’s face.

Siddharth: "Happy now?" Hr smirked as Arun sputtered, wiping frosting off his nose.

Arun: "Inniku nee setha di.." he lunged at him, but Rahul and Vikram held him back, laughing.

Amid the chaos, Siddharth’s mind wandered back to Riya.

He grabbed it from the nightstand, his heart thudding as he unlocked it. The screen lit up with notifications—dozens of messages and calls from friends, classmates, and relatives. But his eyes scanned for only one name.

Riya.

Nothing.

The message he’d sent her yesterday morning—a simple "Good morning"—was still unread.

His calls from the day before had gone unanswered. His chest tightened. Did she forget?

Siddharth: "Ellam ponga na marubadiyum thoonga poren..." he muttered, tossing the phone aside.

Arun: "Enna Riya kitta irundhu wish varalaya..." His teasing voice broke through his thoughts.

Siddharth glared.

Siddharth: "Shut up."

Vikram: "Oh, come on, man. Ava ooruku poiruka... Edhachu velaiya irupa... Idhukulam feel pannalama..."

Rahul: "Oruvela marandhutalo..." He added with a sly grin.

Siddharth: "No...No, ava marakkalam matta..." He snapped, more to convince himself than them.

Arun: "Aprm edhuku vaazhkaiya tholacha mari ukkandhutu iruka... Get up..."

Siddharth: "Leave it," he grumbled, turning his phone off. "I'm not waiting for her, okay?"