Chapter 1: Nani’s Silence and the Strange New Contact

The morning sun filtered through my hostel window as I stared at Nani’s latest WhatsApp reply: just a thumbs-up. No heart, no diya, not even her usual string of laughing emojis.

She used to call me “mera accha baccha.” Those days, her messages would flood in, loaded with heart and diya emojis, her voice notes full of laughter and always a reminder not to skip lunch. Now, every reply was plain, almost businesslike. Even her sticker game—once legendary—had fizzled out, which worried me most.

I decided to break the ice and messaged her first, hoping to coax out the old Nani with my pet name and silly banter.

Every time my phone buzzed with her name, my heart would flutter a little, imagining her sitting on her balcony in that faded grey shawl, filter coffee in hand, scrolling through my messages and smiling. I waited, craving the warmth that used to radiate from her texts.

But then, after a month of these cold exchanges, Nani suddenly added me as a contact again.

I stared at my phone, blinking at the notification in disbelief. Did she lose her phone? Change her SIM? Why would her contact pop up again? I checked twice—it was the same smiling Lakshmi Devi avatar she’d had for years.

Then her message landed: “Accha baccha, Nani had sent her phone for repairs last month. Just got it back today. Did you miss Nani?”

My mind went blank for a second. That familiar tone, that easy affection—my heart did a somersault. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her style, her habit of typing my pet name with the double 'c'.

I stared at the contact—same Lakshmi Devi avatar as always—feeling utterly stunned.

Time seemed to slow down. I scrolled through old messages, comparing avatars. Same goddess, same gold pot. Something icy crawled up my spine and my mouth went dry.

If this is Nani, then who have I been pouring my heart out to all month?

It felt like I’d been living in a parallel universe. The ‘Nani’ who’d been sending me voice notes, even transferring me money, was suddenly a question mark. My hands shook as I scrolled through my chat history—every familiar sticker and emoji now looked suspicious.

The next day, the icy beauty senior was waiting for me downstairs, holding two cups of coffee.

There she was: Ananya Verma, standing by the staircase in the shade of the gulmohar, one cup in each hand, her ponytail flicking in the breeze. She looked as poised as ever, but her eyes flicked away when she saw me.

“Hi… accha baccha…”

She said it so softly, I almost thought I’d imagined it. The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and every ‘accha baccha’ typed to me on WhatsApp flashed through my mind. My heart hammered. The world had tilted in a way I couldn’t have prepared for.