12-06-2025, 11:23 AM
Shravya shifts to her hostel
The day went as usual and when he came home
Shravya’s parents are there, and Shravya’s bags were packed. Her training center had finally confirmed her hostel spot, and the shift was happening quicker than she expected.
Abhi stood near the entrance, arms folded, watching as her father helped zip up her bags.
Shravya looked different that morning—less playful, more thoughtful. She wore a light peach kurti, soft against her fair skin, with her hair tied into a tidy bun. A few stray strands framed her face, which was fresh but subdued.
She looked around the house slowly, as if trying to memorize it.
“You’ll visit, right?” she asked him quietly while her parents stepped outside to bring the car around.
“Of course,” he said, trying not to sound too affected.
She smiled faintly. “It won’t be the same there. No one to fight with over the remote. No one to steal my fries.”
He chuckled. “You barely ever let me have any.”
She walked to him and paused—just a couple of feet away. Close enough that he could smell her usual perfume—mild, floral, familiar. The kind of scent that lingered on pillow covers.
Her voice lowered. “I liked staying here, Abhi.”
He didn’t reply. He cann’t tell how much he wants her to be there.
Her eyes studied him. Something behind them glowed—maybe affection, maybe hesitation, maybe a hint of something she didn’t want to name yet.
Then she stepped forward and hugged him.
Not playful. Not teasing.
A soft, still hug. One that lasted longer than expected.
His hands rested against her back, his fingers lightly brushing the folds of her kurti. She was warm. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Her chest against his. Too close, too natural.
And then it ended.
She stepped back quickly, gave a little nod, and turned to pick up her phone.
Within minutes, the car pulled up, and the suitcases were loaded. Her parents called from downstairs.
Shravya looked at him one last time at the door.
“I’ll call you,” she said.
“You better.”
Then all of a sudden, she swiftly moved and kissed his cheek and ran out before he could realize what had happened. She was gone.
The house felt emptier almost immediately.
The bathroom door wasn’t half-open.
The second toothbrush was gone.
No chai cups waiting in the kitchen.
Just silence.
And in that silence, someone else’s presence had room to grow.
---
The day went as usual and when he came home
Shravya’s parents are there, and Shravya’s bags were packed. Her training center had finally confirmed her hostel spot, and the shift was happening quicker than she expected.
Abhi stood near the entrance, arms folded, watching as her father helped zip up her bags.
Shravya looked different that morning—less playful, more thoughtful. She wore a light peach kurti, soft against her fair skin, with her hair tied into a tidy bun. A few stray strands framed her face, which was fresh but subdued.
She looked around the house slowly, as if trying to memorize it.
“You’ll visit, right?” she asked him quietly while her parents stepped outside to bring the car around.
“Of course,” he said, trying not to sound too affected.
She smiled faintly. “It won’t be the same there. No one to fight with over the remote. No one to steal my fries.”
He chuckled. “You barely ever let me have any.”
She walked to him and paused—just a couple of feet away. Close enough that he could smell her usual perfume—mild, floral, familiar. The kind of scent that lingered on pillow covers.
Her voice lowered. “I liked staying here, Abhi.”
He didn’t reply. He cann’t tell how much he wants her to be there.
Her eyes studied him. Something behind them glowed—maybe affection, maybe hesitation, maybe a hint of something she didn’t want to name yet.
Then she stepped forward and hugged him.
Not playful. Not teasing.
A soft, still hug. One that lasted longer than expected.
His hands rested against her back, his fingers lightly brushing the folds of her kurti. She was warm. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Her chest against his. Too close, too natural.
And then it ended.
She stepped back quickly, gave a little nod, and turned to pick up her phone.
Within minutes, the car pulled up, and the suitcases were loaded. Her parents called from downstairs.
Shravya looked at him one last time at the door.
“I’ll call you,” she said.
“You better.”
Then all of a sudden, she swiftly moved and kissed his cheek and ran out before he could realize what had happened. She was gone.
The house felt emptier almost immediately.
The bathroom door wasn’t half-open.
The second toothbrush was gone.
No chai cups waiting in the kitchen.
Just silence.
And in that silence, someone else’s presence had room to grow.
---
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