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Chapter -8

Here is chapter -8 y'all

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The sun hung lazily in the winter sky as Kriti walked through the college gates, her steps hesitant. She tugged her shawl closer around her shoulders, as though trying to shield herself from more than just the cold January air. It had been two weeks since she’d last set foot here, and yet the campus felt unfamiliar, almost alien, as if the time away had shifted something inside her.

Her heart raced as she made her way through the bustling courtyard. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact, though she could still feel the curious stares. A low murmur of whispers followed her, growing louder as she passed.

“Wasn’t Kriti gone for, like, two weeks?”
“Yeah. She just disappeared. No one knew why.”
“She looks... different, doesn’t she?”

Kriti’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. Different. That word felt heavier than usual today. She knew she was different now—how could she not be? In two weeks, her father had stripped away her future and replaced it with one of his making.

Her father’s voice still rang in her ears, cold and immovable: “You’re engaged now, Kriti. Rohan Malhotra is the perfect match. You should be grateful.”

Grateful. The word tasted bitter in her mouth.

Rohan wasn’t the problem. If anything, he was a gentleman. Polite, respectful, and almost maddeningly understanding. He’d even told her he wouldn’t rush her into anything she didn’t want. But that wasn’t the point. None of this was what she wanted. She had spent two weeks trying to convince herself it wasn’t real, that somehow, she’d find a way out. But the weight of the engagement ring tucked away in her jewelry box said otherwise.

---

The campus seemed louder than usual as Kriti approached the main building. A large banner strung across the entrance read:

ANNUAL CULTURAL FESTIVAL—TODAY @ AUDITORIUM!

Excited groups of students hurried past her, their energy in sharp contrast to the heaviness she felt in her chest. She slipped into the crowd, hoping to disappear among the sea of faces.

But just as she reached the steps, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Kriti!”

She froze.

Even after all these years, Siddharth’s voice still had the power to stop her in her tracks. Slowly, she turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression equal parts relief and frustration.

“There you are,” he said, closing the distance between them. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for weeks.”

“I’ve been... busy,” she said softly, her gaze darting to the ground.

“Busy?” he repeated, his tone sharper than she was used to. “Too busy to answer your phone? Too busy to let me know you’re okay?”

Kriti flinched at the edge in his voice. She had known this confrontation was coming, but she hadn’t expected it to feel so... raw.

“Siddharth, I don’t want to talk about this right now,” she said, turning to leave.

But before she could take another step, his hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing her wrist. “We are talking about this,” he said, his voice low. “Right now.”