The moment Diya closed the door to her room, her composure cracked.
She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed and let the tears fall—silent, hot, and relentless. She had held it together all day, smiled like she was okay, even looked Maddy in the eye without flinching. But now, the truth was inescapable.
He had apologized—for shouting. Not for the words. Not for making her feel invisible in front of his friends. Not for making her effort look like something to be ashamed of.
Just for raising his voice.
And somehow, that hurt more.
She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms, letting herself unravel in the privacy of her dimly lit room. Her roommate stirred once but didn't ask. Diya was grateful. She didn't think she could say anything that wouldn't shatter her all over again.
Two blocks away, Maddy was sitting in the common room, the movie they'd all started playing faintly in the background. He wasn't really watching. His phone screen glowed softly in his palm as he scrolled absently, mind elsewhere.
Harsh stepped back in from the balcony and plopped down beside him, the familiar crinkle of a chips packet breaking the silence.
"You good?" Harsh asked casually.
Maddy let out a dry laugh. "Define good."
"You look like your brain's trying to run quantum physics on two hours of sleep."
Maddy shook his head, his voice low. "I messed up."
Harsh didn't say anything—just waited.
"I shouted at her. At Diya. In front of everyone," Maddy said finally. "She brought me the bottle. The one with my name. The one that was a whole inside joke between us."
Harsh leaned forward slightly. "The black one you lost on the train?"
Maddy nodded. "She ordered a new one. Picked it up from the gate even though she wasn't feeling well. Walked all that way just to give it to me. And I… I shouted at her because I didn't want my friends to think there was something between us."
"But there is something between you," Harsh said, frustration edging into his voice. "Even if you won't admit it out loud."
"I told her not to hope. I told her I wasn't ready for anything," Maddy whispered, rubbing his temples.
Harsh sighed deeply. "Then stop looking at her like she's your world. You can't ask someone to move on and still treat them like they belong to you."
"I just…" Maddy paused. "I don't know how to stop caring. But I'm scared too. Everything feels like too much. I'm not in a place to give her what she deserves."
"So what now?" Harsh asked. "You push her away and then get hurt when she actually starts moving on?"
Maddy didn't reply. His silence said everything.
"She's not okay, bro," Harsh added. "She smiled through everything today. But she broke down after. You didn't see it. I did."
Maddy winced.
"You need to figure this out. Because if you keep dragging her through this uncertainty, eventually she'll stop waiting."
Harsh stood up, walking to the door. Then he turned around and added, "She still loves you, you know."
And with that, he left Maddy alone with the silence he had been trying to avoid all day.
Later, Maddy mentioned to Harsh that he told Diya what had happened—but it was Harsh who made the call.
Diya answered, voice tired, but polite. "Hey."
"Yo, what's up?" Harsh kept his tone light, like always.
Diya let out a soft laugh. "Nothing much. Just lying down."
Harsh didn't dig. He started rambling about a professor's weird rant during class, someone tripping over a projector wire, and the new game that was being organized on campus.
Diya listened. She needed the distraction.
Then she perked up. "Want the latest gossip from the girls' hostel?"
Harsh grinned. "You know I do."
They exchanged silly updates—someone's stolen shampoo, the midnight maggi cravings, a roommate's obsession with horror podcasts. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to make Diya smile for real.
Then, faintly in the background, she heard Maddy's voice calling Harsh to join them for the movie.
"I'll be there," Harsh called back. "Talking to Diya. Start without me."
Diya heard that too. She paused, then said gently, "You should go. I'm planning to sleep anyway."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Go have fun. I'll text you later."
"Alright," Harsh said. "Take care, Diya."
"You too."
The call ended.
Diya stared at the ceiling, her smile slowly fading. Her mind wandered—through every conversation, every unspoken word, every mixed signal and moment of silence that had started replacing the warmth they used to share.
In the quiet, she pulled her pillow close and whispered to herself, "Maybe this is how it ends… quietly."
But even then, even with everything broken, a part of her heart still waited—for a different ending.