Chapter 3: Logging Out

At 9 p.m., I calmly turned on my laptop.

The cheap metal of my hostel bed creaked as I sat cross-legged, screen glowing blue in the dark. My roommate was out, so the only noise was the drone of the ceiling fan and a distant chaiwala’s bell.

[Did Rohan and Ananya break up today]

I sent a flower-throwing emoji and replied:

[Broke up.]

I watched the little animation bloom on my screen, petals scattering like all my feelings. It felt final, like throwing a garland on a finished story.

The post instantly exploded, even more than the day I started dating him. Over a dozen comments flooded in immediately.

[Is it true?]

[Must be true. Rohan hasn’t been to college for days. He must’ve dumped Ananya.]

[Sis, where’d you get this info? If you don’t say anything, I’m going to believe it.]

[That chamchi Ananya finally got dumped?]

The comments kept coming, each one more creative in their insults. Someone even posted a GIF from a melodramatic Bollywood breakup scene. I rolled my eyes, letting it all wash over me.

I opened the replies.

[Really broke up. I’m that chamchi, Ananya.]

There was a pause, and then the thread exploded even more. I imagined the shocked faces on the other side of those screens. I almost smiled.

After sending that, I closed my tablet and even deleted everything on my phone. All the chats, photos, call logs—one by one, I wiped them away. My thumb hovered over our first selfie—his arm around me at the college fest, both of us grinning like idiots. I deleted it too. The screen looked so clean after, like the first page of a new notebook.

So good. I never have to look again. This post can finally disappear…

I lay back, listening to the monsoon rain spattering against the window grille. For the first time in ages, my chest felt light, as if I could finally breathe.

I slept better than I ever have.

The world could have ended outside, but I was cocooned in my blanket, lost in a dreamless sleep. No nightmares. No more checking my phone in the middle of the night.

No need to worry about missing Rohan’s calls, no need to worry about not getting his favourite chai in the morning.

I remembered all those mornings, rushing to the hostel canteen just to get his masala chai before the crowds, worrying if it’d be too sweet for him. Now, the only chai I had to worry about was my own.

No more being troubled by girls who liked him, no more fear… that he might suddenly break up with me.

It was like a weight off my chest, like stepping out into sunlight after a long, cold winter.

If I’d known, I shouldn’t have liked him from the start.

But I did. I couldn’t help it. Maybe I needed to go through this to find out who I really am.