Chapter 5: Alone in the Canteen

04

Ritika’s words looked innocent, but she’d basically called me a homewrecker in front of everyone. In India, once a rumour starts, it spreads faster than chutney on a dosa.

Classmates who felt sorry for me now looked at me with suspicion. Their whispers trailed after me down the corridor, blending with the sound of hostel fans and the distant jingle of a kulfiwala’s bell.

I knew, nothing I said would help now. This is Mumbai—once the train leaves the platform, you can’t stop it.

For a second, I wanted to slap Ritika and be done with it—

But then, footsteps echoed at the door. Arjun walked in, hair messy, shirt collar crooked like he’d ironed it in a hurry. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked at me for a long moment.

I’d almost forgotten: this public course was one I’d fought to enrol in just to sit with Arjun. The irony burned.

His face was drawn, tired. For a second, I wondered if he’d slept at all.

I looked back, hoping for once he’d stand up for me.

But Arjun still said nothing. The silence was heavier than any chemistry textbook.

My mental comment section exploded.

[Official couple ki chemistry hi alag hai. Sirf nazar milane se hi laddoo phoot rahe hain.]

[Heroine, bas ek aansu gira do, hero pighal jayega, supporting girl ko side kar dega.]

[Mujhe heroine bilkul pasand nahi aa rahi. Hero ne pura raat nahi soya, experiment miss kar diya, ab toot gaya hai. Heroine itni ziddi kyun hai?]

[Logic kya hai? Hero ki galti hai, blame heroine pe kyun? Kya duniya sirf mardon ko hi pasand karti hai?]

I didn’t ask Arjun for help. I just looked away, packing my things quickly, my heart heavy.

Arjun sneered, walked past me, and sat next to Ritika.

That was all it took. My name was sealed in the gossip as the villain, the disruptor.

Ritika gave me a smug look, then clung to Arjun’s arm, making sure everyone saw.

Arjun didn’t push her away. Not even a glance in my direction.

Just like that, the rumour spread through the campus WhatsApp groups. By evening, even the canteen uncle had heard.

When I sat in the canteen, eating alone, the watery sambar soaked into my rice, and my bread pakoda was stale. The canteen uncle gave me a sympathetic smile, sliding over an extra green chutney packet without a word.

For group projects, no one wanted to team up with me. My phone stayed silent, except for the occasional teacher’s deadline message.

But I did my work seriously. Amma always says, "Kaam karo toh aise karo jaise Saraswati Maa khud dekh rahi hain."

If no one wanted to join my group, fine. These days, group projects are solo anyway. The world may gossip, but marks don’t care who your friends are.