A Story Without You

Chapter 2: Seeds of Doubt

Aarav’s life had shifted in a way he never thought possible. His mornings started with a text from siya, bright and cheerful, usually saying something like, Good morning, sleepyhead! His evenings often ended with long calls where they talked until their voices grew hoarse, discussing everything from their dreams to the smallest, most mundane details of their day. To Aarav, these moments felt sacred.

But as the weeks turned into months, little things began to gnaw at the edges of Aarav’s happiness. At first, it was the way siya’s phone would buzz with an almost rhythmic regularity, her eyes lighting up with a smile as she glanced at the screen. She never hid it from him, but she never explained it either. Aarav told himself it was nothing, just her being the social butterfly everyone knew her to be.

Then there were the subtle changes in their plans. siya would sometimes cancel their study sessions last minute, citing that she needed to catch up with friends or had a sudden club meeting. Aarav would nod understandingly, hiding the pang of disappointment that came with each change.

One evening, Aarav and Neeraj sat on the steps of the college’s main building, watching the campus come alive under the yellow glow of the streetlights. The chill of early winter nipped at their cheeks, but Neeraj’s voice cut through the cold.

“Hey, man. I saw siya with that senior, Rohit, from the debate club today,” Neeraj said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “They were laughing, you know, like... close.”

Aarav’s stomach twisted. He forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “She has a lot of friends, Neeraj. That’s just who she is.”

Neeraj sighed, leaning back on his elbows. “I get it. But it’s not just Rohit, you know. I’ve seen her hanging out with Arjun from the drama society too. She’s... friendly, too friendly.”

The unease Aarav had been burying for weeks bubbled to the surface. He swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart was thumping too loudly in his chest. “You don’t know her like I do, Neeraj. She tells me things she doesn’t tell anyone else.”

“I hope you’re right, man,” Neeraj said, his eyes sincere but full of doubt. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

The rest of the evening passed in silence, with Aarav’s mind a battlefield of conflicting thoughts. Neeraj’s words were like tiny, sharp needles poking holes in his certainty, but he pushed them aside. He needed to hear it from her.

The next day, Aarav found siya sitting under their favorite tree on campus, a notebook balanced on her knees as she sketched something with quick, confident strokes. The wind rustled the leaves above, scattering tiny flecks of light that danced over her hair.

“Hey,” Aarav said, managing a smile as he sat down beside her.

She looked up, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Aarav! Just the person I wanted to see.” She held out the notebook, revealing a half-finished sketch of the college courtyard. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing,” he said, genuinely impressed. But the warmth that usually flooded him at her smile was shadowed by the doubts that refused to leave. “Hey, siya, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She set the notebook down and turned to face him, a hint of concern creeping into her expression.

“I’ve been thinking... you’re always saying that I’m special, that I’m the only one who really gets you. But sometimes, I see you with other guys, and I can’t help but wonder if you say the same things to them.”

A flash of something—surprise, maybe even guilt—crossed her face before she quickly replaced it with a soft smile. “Aarav, you’re overthinking. Yes, I talk to other people, but you’re different. I don’t share the same connection with them that I have with you.”

Aarav wanted to believe her. Desperately. But the doubts lingered like storm clouds at the edge of a clear sky, waiting for the right moment to take over.

The conversation shifted, and soon they were laughing about an embarrassing story from their freshman year, but Aarav couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing, slipping through his fingers like sand.

Continued....