Chapter 8: College and Cold Shoulders

Meera, Priya, and I all refused to let our parents see us off, so we travelled to Delhi together.

We stuffed our bags with homemade achaar, Maggi packets, and a hundred warnings from our mums. The train ride was noisy, full of students in similar situations, all nervous and pretending to be cool.

After settling in, we planned to have dinner together the next day.

Unexpectedly, Ananya showed up too. She looked thinner, clearly still nursing a broken heart.

She had dark circles under her eyes and a forced smile. She barely touched the paneer tikka on her plate.

I smiled at her politely. She kept a cold face and nodded perfunctorily.

She didn’t even make eye contact, just muttered a quick, “Hi.” My confidence shrank a little.

My heart fluttered. Heartbroken people really are unpredictable—better not to mess with her.

She didn’t have much appetite, barely eating or talking.

The whole meal felt tense. Everyone tiptoed around her mood, not daring to chat freely.

Meera and Priya exchanged silent glances, awkwardly pushing their food around their plates.

After a while, for some reason, Meera and Priya started drinking again.

They ordered cold drinks and poured a little something extra from a hidden flask, winking at me across the table.

As they drank, Priya got tipsy. “Campus queen, that guy didn’t know what he had. There are plenty of people who do. If you want, I’ll introduce you to someone. The guys I met today are all super cute.”

Priya wagged her eyebrows, nudging Ananya with her elbow.

“Yeah, there are lots of good-looking guys in my department too. Come check them out tomorrow,” Meera chimed in.

The two of them comforted Ananya, making me feel awkward. It seemed weird if I didn’t say something too.

So I joined in. “If you want, I can introduce… myself.”

The table went silent. I forced a lopsided grin, but my ears turned red.

She suddenly looked at me and sneered. “You? Would that even count?”

The way she said it—like I was a street dog begging for scraps. My face burned.

Me: “….”

Meera and Priya looked confused too.

Their eyes darted between us. Meera raised an eyebrow; Priya mouthed, “What’s going on?”

She smirked.

Then she advised Priya and Meera, “Drink less, don’t get drunk and create a scene.”

Her tone was icy. She pushed her glass away, eyes lingering on me just a second too long.

I was on edge, feeling like she was mocking me.

Could it be she remembered what happened that night?

The more I thought about it, the more anxious I got. I couldn’t sit still, didn’t know if I should ask. It was torture.

“Who created a scene for whom?” Meera shot back.

Meera rolled her eyes, her Bangalore accent coming through. Priya giggled nervously.

Ananya didn’t answer, just got up to make a call and paid the bill on the way out.

She left without looking back, her phone pressed to her ear, as if she couldn’t wait to be anywhere else.

“I heard her breakup had something to do with being drunk. Don’t overthink it,” Meera, half-drunk, reassured us.

So that’s how it was. I breathed a sigh of relief.

After dinner, Priya and I walked the girls back, then left.

We walked quietly, the campus lights casting long shadows. The night air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and wet mud.

Before leaving, I thanked Ananya for dinner.

She replied coldly, “Don’t mention it.”

She didn’t look at me, just stared at her phone. I shuffled away, embarrassed.

She was so cold to me. I almost thought she liked me once—how silly of me.