Resurgence

Chapter 7

Then

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Suman is hunched over the counter, eyes glued to the clock hanging above the diner's door. She just needs to wait for the clock to strike at 6 pm and she'll be out of here. It's only once in a lifetime that she gets to vacant her shift relatively early for the standards of a busy, crackling with activity Saturday night and she'd be damned if she didn't grab the opportunity with both hands. In her two years of working at this small diner, situated near the outskirts of her campus, this is the first time she lets herself take the rest of the day and tries not to let the guilt churn her up inside.

Tradition dictates that Saturday nights are meant for hanging out at Rose Café, so Suman shows up despite the overwhelming exhaustion settling deep in her bones. The heel above the door rings, signaling her entrance and a smile blossom over her face despite being a little unsteady on her feet, her line of sight catching glimpse of her friends sitting in their usual booth.

Shravan waves at her. She waves right back at him.

Pushkar's already high on sugar when she arrives at their table and tackles her in a hug she finds difficult to extricate herself from.She settles in next to Shravan, as she belongs there and no one bats an eyelash — it's a known fact by now — everyone is aware, from the teachers at the campus to the juniors stealing glances at them in the corridors: Shravan and Suman are linked by the hip.

Their friendship is a partnership at its finest.

Of course, both of them are oblivious to said-fact.

Denial is bliss.

Sighing, she sheds her coat and he slides his untouched water to her. She raises an eyebrow at the gesture, mostly to convey her surprise and the force of the glare he directs towards her tells her to shut it and drink up. She takes a long sip, drinking gingerly. He is an absolute mother hen.

At this point, Suman swears she can hear Shravan's chiding tone in the back of her mind, disapproval clear in his voice as he lectures her over her sleeping schedules and her eating habits, hovering and reminding her to drink ample water as if without his daily reminder she could die due to dehydration.

And if she's being honest with herself, there is a high chance of that happening if it wasn't for him and his need to take care of others. Sometimes, it looks like it's as important to him as breathing and that alone tells a lot about the kind of person Shravan Malhotra is. Not that she would admit that to him. Ever.

The table is filled with variants of desserts and milkshakes, too much for only three people if you ask her, something that occurs only when there is a reason to celebrate.

"What are we celebrating?" Suman asks, interrupting the overlapping chatter between her friends.

Pushkar looks at her bewildered, brows furrowed in utter confusion and then sizes up the distance between Shravan and herself as if trying to comprehend something.

"You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Suman looks on dumbfounded.

Shravan scrubs a hand over his face, clearing his throat, "I was going to tell you, after," this time the force of his glare is directed towards Pushkar and she has to stifle a laugh under her breath as he cowers under it.

"How am I supposed to know that you didn't tell her?" Pushkar argues, upon noticing his aggrieved glare. Then, almost teasingly, "Everyone knows that Suman Tiwari is the founding member of the Shravan Malhotra News Club."

"Shut up, Pushkar!"

"So," she cuts in, resisting the urge to fidget, "that still doesn't tell me what you have been hiding from me?" she asks, confusion knitting at her brow.