Eight Years Later
--Nitish--
The Yellow Line was denser than it had any right to be on a weekday evening. I had one shoulder against the glass and my phone in the other hand. Tania’s last message still sat unread on the screen.
Call me when you get home.
I was about to reply when I heard a short, familiar laugh, the kind that used to come out of her when something ridiculous happens. My head turned before I told it to.
Kavya.
She was standing near the door, one hand on the strap, phone in the other. Hair longer, loosely tied. A simple white top and dark trousers. For a second the years collapsed and I was sixteen again, standing behind the science block with my heart in my throat.
Then she looked up and the recognition hit her the same way it had hit me. Her eyes widened, mouth opening slightly.
I moved through the crowd before the next station could separate us.
“Kavya?”
She stepped closer so we wouldn’t get pushed apart. “Nitish? Oh my god.”
We did the compressed version of eight years in under a minute, software, finance, both in Gurugram, both living alone in 2BHKs and quietly drowning in rent. When I told her I was in Sector 45 and she said she was in Sector 50, we both laughed at how stupidly close that was.
“Two kilometers,” she said, shaking her head. “We’ve been living on top of each other and never once bumped into each other.”
The train lurched. We both grabbed the same pole. Her fingers brushed mine and she pulled back with a small, embarrassed smile.
I should have looked away. Instead I kept looking at her, trying to match this version with the girl who had gently told me she only wanted friendship.
She looked… settled. Grown. The kind of face that had finished becoming itself.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I took it out.
--Kavya--
I almost missed him in the crush of office bags and tired faces. Something about the way he stood shoulders slightly forward, head bent over his phone pulled my attention.
When he looked up, the years folded in on themselves.
Nitish.
Same eyes. Sharper jaw. The boy who had asked me for more than friendship behind the school building was suddenly a man in a navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, staring at me like he’d seen a ghost.
“Kavya?”
My name in his voice did something stupid and warm in my chest.
We talked fast, the way people do when they’re afraid the moment will disappear -- jobs, areas, the ridiculous fact that we lived ten minutes apart and had never crossed paths. When our hands touched on the pole I pulled back on instinct, but I was still smiling too widely.
He looked good. Not in a dramatic, movie way. Just solid. Like he’d grown into himself.
I remembered the afternoon he had asked. I had said no because I didn’t know how to want anything that big at sixteen. We had kept talking for a while after that silly daily things and then school ended and life pulled us into different streams.
Now he was standing in front of me in a Gurugram metro coach and the gap between then and now felt both huge and strangely thin.
“You look different,” I said, because the silence was starting to feel dangerous.
He gave a short huff of laughter. “Hopefully in a good way.”
“In a good way,” I answered and immediately wanted to take the words back. They came out warmer than I planned.
The announcer called the next station. We had one more stop till we reach end of the metro and our station.
I didn’t want the conversation to end at the door.
“Are you free right now?” I asked. “Or do you have to be somewhere?”
He glanced at his phone. Something unreadable crossed his face.
“I have to call someone first,” he said. “If that’s okay.”
I just nodded.
He stepped half a foot away, still close enough that I could hear him over the rattle of the train, and dialed.
“Hey… yeah, I’m in the metro. Reaching in ten minutes.” A short pause. His free hand tightened around the pole. “Tania, the network was bad, I didn’t ignore you… I’m not with anyone. Just ran into an old classmate from school.” Another pause, longer. I watched his jaw work. “I’ll come straight home, okay? I’ll call you once I’m there… Yeah. Okay. Bye.”
He hung up and looked at me, a little awkward.
“Girlfriend,” he said simply. “She’s particular about knowing where I am.”
Particular. That was a polite word for it. Even from one side of the conversation I could hear the questioning where are you, who are you with, why didn’t you answer. The same edge I used to get from my ex when he decided I was taking too long to reply.
I kept my expression easy.
“She must care about you a lot,” I said.
He gave a small smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. “Something like that.”
The train began slowing for the last station. We both turned toward the doors.
“I should head back,” he said. “She gets restless if I take longer than I said.”
There it was again that quiet chain around his ankle. I nodded so it wouldn’t become uncomfortable.
“It was really good seeing you, Nitish.”
“You too.” He unlocked his phone and held it out. “Can I get your number? If you’re free this weekend maybe we can actually catch up. Coffee or something.”
I typed my number in and called myself so I had his too.
“Saturday works for me,” I said.
“Saturday then.”
We stepped onto the platform together. For a moment we just stood there while the crowd moved around us.
“I’ll text you,” he said.
“Okay.”
He gave a small nod, then we turned and started walking toward the exit that led to Sector 45 and 50. I keep watching him form side eye longer than I needed to, then we headed in the opposite direction, the sound of his voice on that phone call still sitting quietly in the back of my mind.
The auto ride from the station to Sector 50 was slow in the evening traffic. I sat with my backpack on my lap and my phone face-down on top of it, thinking if the number i just got will ever be used. I kept replaying the phone call I had overheard.
I’m not with anyone. Just ran into an old classmate from school.
The way he had said it careful, almost defensive stayed with me. And the way his jaw had tightened while he listened. I had seen that look before. On my own face, years ago, when I used to explain myself to someone who never quite believed me.
I reached my building, unlocked the 2BHK that still felt too big for one person and dropped my bag on the couch. The second bedroom door was half open, empty, waiting for a roommate who hadn’t shown up yet. I poured water, stood in the kitchen and realized I was still smiling a little.
Nitish.
It was strange how quickly the years had thinned. One moment he was the boy who had asked for more than I could give at sixteen and the next he was a man in a navy shirt who looked at me like he was trying to memorize the changes. He had a girlfriend. That part was clear. And from the little I had heard, she kept a tight watch on him.
I took out my phone and stared at his number. My thumb hovered over the message icon for a second, then I locked the screen.
Not my place. He had someone who sounded like the kind of person who would not appreciate an old classmate appearing out of nowhere.
I put the phone down and went to change.
--Nitish--
The walk from the metro station to my society was only twelve minutes, but it felt longer than usual. The evening air in Gurugram still held the day’s heat and the roads were full of office cabs and two-wheelers. Kavya’s face kept coming back the way her eyes had widened when she recognized me, the small embarrassed smile when our fingers touched on the pole, the careful neutrality on her face while I was on the call with Tania.
She had grown into herself. That was the thought that kept circling. Not louder or flashier. Just… complete.
My building came into view. I climbed the stairs to the second floor and unlocked the 2BHK that still smelled faintly of the new paint from when I had moved in alone. The extra bedroom was empty. The rent reminder on my phone was not.
I dropped my bag, washed my face and finally called Tania back properly.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Why did you take so long to call after you reached?”
“I just walked in.”
“Who was the classmate?”
“Kavya. From school. We were in the same class till 10th. Haven’t seen her in eight years.”
“Boy or girl?”
I paused for half a second. “Girl.”
Silence on the other end. Then, “And you were talking to her in the metro?”
“We just ran into each other. It was crowded. We got down at the same station.”
“Did you take her number?”
The question was quiet, but it landed heavily.
“Yes,” I said. There was no point lying. “Just to catch up sometime. It’s been years.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Tania___”
“I don’t like you taking other girls’ numbers. You know how I get. Why do you need to catch up with her? You haven’t spoken in eight years. Let it stay that way.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter and closed my eyes.
“It was just polite,” I said.
“Delete the number, Nitish. Please. For me.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
“Nitish.”
“Okay,” I said finally. “I won’t message her.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
She softened a little after that, asked about my day, told me about hers. By the time we hung up I felt drained in a way that had nothing to do with work. I put the phone down and stared at Kavya’s number still sitting in my contacts.
I didn’t delete it.
But I didn’t message her either.
