Chapter 4: Rumours, Rejections, and Reconciliations

Without the cat pillow, I slept terribly. During my major class, I kept yawning. Finally, class was over.

The whole day dragged, the lectures feeling longer than ever. I nearly dozed off during Professor Iyer’s statistics rant. My eyes burned, and my head felt stuffed with cotton.

The journalism club had a meeting, and as a Humanities student, I was honoured with a special task: write an interview article for the Finance department.

I groaned inwardly—why me? I’d barely scraped through commerce in school. Still, an assignment was an assignment, and saying no to the club president was like inviting bad luck before exams.

And, surprise, the interviewee was Arjun.

Of course, who else? I could almost hear Priya’s voice: ‘Wah, destiny, Neha!’ I sighed, wondering if fate was playing some twisted prank on me.

I went to the Commerce building. Someone told me he was in his advisor’s office.

The old building was full of peeling paint, the walls echoing with shouts from the boys’ hostel nearby. My steps echoed as I walked down the corridor, the sunlight turning everything a dusty gold.

When I got there, the office was empty. I heard voices in the corridor and followed the sound.

My heart thudded, every step heavy with dread and hope. The voices grew louder, the laughter familiar. I braced myself, pushing my hair out of my face.

Just as I turned into the emergency stairwell, I stopped dead at the scene before me.

Sneha was on tiptoe, hands on Arjun’s shoulders, head tilted up. From my angle, it looked exactly like they were kissing.

My breath caught in my throat. I stood frozen, watching as the world tilted off its axis. My fingers dug into my palm, nails biting skin.

Suddenly, Sneha opened her eyes, spotted me, and raised her eyebrows provocatively.

Her expression said it all—victory, challenge, a dare for me to do something about it. I felt a lump form in my throat.

My fingers clenched unconsciously. Fine, fine, fine. Two-timing jerks.

The words rolled in my mind like thunder, but I kept my head high, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

I turned and left in a foul mood. So I didn’t see Sneha get pushed away and end up sitting on the floor, looking totally embarrassed.

The corridor felt colder as I walked away, the laughter and gossip of campus life now a dull buzz behind me. I told myself I didn’t care. I kept telling myself that all the way back to my hostel.

---

So you’re getting engaged, huh? Already have a fiancée, huh? Already starting to kiss and get close, huh? Fine, fine, fine. You have my blessing.

I slammed my room door a little too loudly, not caring if Priya looked up from her phone. I wasn’t going to cry—not over a boy, not tonight.

When I got back, I threw the cat pillow to the end of the bed. Ordered a new one online. With express delivery, I had a brand new cat pillow that night.

The old pillow looked a little forlorn, its ears flopping. I stuffed it under the bed, not even bothering to say goodbye. Sometimes, being dramatic felt good.

Before tossing it, I hesitated, running my thumb over its embroidered whiskers, remembering the first night I hugged it. But I stuffed it away anyway, my heart aching just a little.

The poor cat head got abandoned in a dark corner.

My new pillow was brighter, fluffier, and smelled faintly of lavender sachet. But it didn’t have the same weight. Or the same memories.

When I fell asleep, I heard Arjun’s aggrieved inner voice:

*Neha didn’t hug me.*

I buried my face in the new pillow, willing his voice away. Why did he have to sound so sad?

Hmph. I pretended not to hear, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.

I turned my back to the old pillow, determined not to let him into my thoughts. The ceiling fan clicked overhead, a monotonous lullaby.

That night, I was woken up countless times by *Neha didn’t hug me*. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and pinched the cat head hard. A muffled groan came from the other side, and it finally quieted down.

I lay back, triumphant, but a small part of me felt guilty. Maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe… just maybe, I wanted to forgive him.

The next day, the campus WhatsApp group exploded with gossip about Arjun.

“Oh my god! Arjun actually has a fiancée—it’s Sneha from the Arts department!”

“Someone even saw them kissing on campus!”

The messages kept pouring in, each more dramatic than the last. Memes followed, with Arjun’s face photoshopped onto Bollywood shaadi scenes.

Priya was shocked and shared the news with me.

She shoved her phone in my face, eyes wide. “Neha, did you know about this? He never told you?”

I pursed my lips and replied flatly, “From now on, anything about Arjun has nothing to do with me.”

My voice was cold, sharper than intended. I stared at the screen, refusing to let the tears form.

Priya sighed, looking regretful and hesitant to speak.

She squeezed my hand, her eyes soft. “Are you sure, Neha? Maybe it’s not what it looks like…”

At lunch in the mess, I ran into Arjun again. I ignored him. When he sat down across from me, I picked up my tray and left.

The mess felt colder, the clang of steel plates grating on my nerves. I walked to the far end, refusing to look back, my appetite gone.

A hint of hurt flashed across Arjun’s cold face.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, filled with confusion and hurt. I steeled myself, refusing to let my resolve break.

*Neha ignored me.*

*What’s wrong with her?*

*Did I upset her?*

*Is she mad at me?*

Even his inner voice was subdued, softer than usual. But I kept my face impassive, focusing on the chana masala on my plate.

---

After that, I kept running into Arjun at college. Every time we brushed past each other, I’d hear his inner voice, so aggrieved he sounded like he was about to cry.

The college corridors, once alive with excitement, now felt suffocating. I avoided his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in my books or chatting with Priya. But his silent pleas always found me.

*Neha, please talk to me.*

At night, I suddenly got a WhatsApp video call from Arjun. I ignored the first one. The call came again, so I finally picked up.

The screen flickered, and for a moment, I almost hung up. But curiosity—and something softer—won out. I steadied my breath, preparing to be cold.

“Bol, kya hua?” I asked, cold as ice.

He flinched, as if my tone had actually stung. For a moment, I felt guilty—but I held my ground.

Arjun still wore that frosty expression: “I heard from the journalism club president that you’re supposed to interview me. If you need my help, you can come find me.”

His words were measured, formal. The old Arjun, back in place, as if nothing had happened. But I could see the tightness in his jaw, the restless flicker of his eyes.

“Oh.” I answered coldly, neither agreeing nor refusing.

*Neha is really mad.*

*Did she misunderstand about Sneha and me?*

I almost wanted to laugh—he was so clueless. But the ache in his voice made me pause.

My eyes flickered, and I glanced at him.

For a heartbeat, our eyes met—his pleading, mine uncertain. There was a question hanging in the air, unspoken.

Arjun pursed his lips: “Neha, there’s something I want to explain.”

“There’s nothing between me and Sneha. Our families are family friends, but I won’t get engaged to her.”

“The kissing rumour is a misunderstanding too.”

“She suddenly fell and bumped into me, but… I didn’t let her touch me.”

He spoke quietly, his voice trembling just a little. The sincerity in his words was unmistakable. I felt my resolve slip.

*It’s true! That woman even tried to kiss me! She thought I didn’t know what she was up to? So shameless! I pushed her away right away!*

*Neha, don’t misunderstand me. I’m a good boy!*

*My body and my heart belong only to you!*

The words echoed in my mind, soft and desperate. My cheeks warmed. Maybe I’d been too harsh. Maybe… he really was just mine.

After he finished, Arjun’s gaze landed softly on me.

His eyes were so gentle, so full of hope, I could barely breathe. In that moment, all my anger melted away, replaced by a rush of affection.

*Neha smiled.*

I immediately forced down the corners of my mouth that were about to curl up.

I coughed, straightening my face. No way was I going to let him see how happy I was.

“About the interview, I do need your help. How about we start now?”

My tone was calm, but inside, my heart was leaping. I let my fingers drift towards the old cat pillow, pulling it close as if nothing had ever happened.

As I spoke, I picked up the cat head that had been neglected at the end of the bed and hugged it to my chest.

The pillow was cool against my skin, the faintest whiff of old detergent clinging to its fur. I squeezed it, just a little, almost expecting a reaction.

A soft gasp came from the phone. Arjun’s expression changed instantly.

His eyes widened, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He bit his lip, hands twitching as if he could feel my touch.

I stroked the cat pillow, pretending not to know anything. “Kya hua? Are you uncomfortable?”

My voice was light, teasing. I watched as his composure cracked, just a little, his fingers curling into his bedsheet.

Arjun tensed his hand: “I’m fine.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze dropping to the floor. The silence buzzed with possibility.

He looked cold and serious on the outside, but his inner voice was flying high:

*Ahhhhh!*

*Neha is spoiling me again!*

*Ahhh, I’m happy again!*

*Woo, if only she would kiss me.*

I laughed to myself, shaking my head. For all his seriousness, Arjun was just a big kid at heart.

I paused flipping through my notes. Looked up at the restrained Arjun, and, as if possessed, asked, “Want a kiss?”

His silence stretched between us, heavy and electric. On my screen, his lips parted—but before he could answer, the power went out.