Rudra Leaves for Mumbai — Without Goodbye
The wedding ended, the lights dimmed, and the laughter faded into tired footsteps and cold dinner plates.
Ruhi waited near the garden arch, holding a small gift box she had planned to give Rudra that night — a handmade keychain shaped like a basketball net, with a tiny heart threaded through the hoop.
But Rudra never showed up.
The next morning, she woke to Simran sitting on the edge of her bed, holding Rudra's note.
*"Had to leave early.It's just for two days.We'll talk once I'm back.
—Rudra"*
No call.No voice.
Just seven words.And one heartbreak.
📓 Beyond the Buzzer – Page 137
"Not every goodbye comes with tears.Sometimes, it slips under the doorWith no knock, no echo —Just absence."
🧳 Mumbai — The Boardroom or the Battlefield?
Rudra sat across a long marble table, surrounded by suited men, his father at the head.
The topic: a new tech venture.
The catch? It required Rudra to relocate — temporarily — for six months.
"We need someone sharp, young, and credible. That's you," his father said.
"And Ruhi?" Rudra asked quietly.
His father adjusted his glasses. "If she truly understands you, she'll wait."
Rudra's grip tightened on the pen.
He didn't speak.
Because he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore — applause, or Ruhi's silence beside him when the applause faded.
🧣 Ruhi in Delhi — Waiting, Wondering, Withdrawing
Three days passed.
No call.No update.Only Instagram stories from people who tagged Rudra at five-star lounges and board dinners.
Ruhi stopped checking.
She poured herself into college work, internship applications, and reading forgotten novels — anything that didn't mention the word "love."
Simran watched her from across the room.She didn't ask.
Not yet.
But she placed a sticky note on Ruhi's mirror:
"Don't confuse waiting with shrinking."
🧾 Aarav's Turning Point — The Sports Fair Surprise
Back in Old Delhi, Aarav was volunteering at a kids' sports fair. It wasn't glamorous — plastic chairs, peeling posters, dust.
But a young boy with a limp came up to him during basketball drills.
"Sir, can I still play if I fall a lot?"
Aarav knelt down and smiled. "Falling's just part of jumping."
The boy grinned — and played like his heart was weightless.
And that night, Aarav knew:
He didn't need titles to feel tall.
💬 Confrontation — Simran and Aarav
Later that evening, Simran stood in front of Aarav in her living room.
"You've been distant."
"I didn't want to hold you back," he replied. "You're flying. I'm… still learning how to walk in this new world."
She stepped forward. "Then walk with me. Don't fade behind me."
He hesitated.
"Do you still love me?" she asked.
He pulled her close.
"I never stopped."
✉️ The Letter She Almost Didn't Read
Ruhi opened her locker at college the next day and found a small envelope tucked between her textbooks.
No name on the front.
Inside — Rudra's handwriting.
Ruhi,
I left without saying goodbye because I was afraid.Afraid that if I saw your eyes, I'd never get on that flight.
I'm in Mumbai. It's intense. But empty.
The rooms echo. The food tastes bland.
And every successful deal feels smallerBecause I can't tell you about it first.
I haven't decided yet.But I know this —
If success means losing the sound of your laugh,I don't want it.*
— Rudra
She read it twice.
Then clutched it against her chest.
And cried — not because she was weak,But because the silence had finally broken.
📓 Beyond the Buzzer – Page 140
"Love isn't always loud.Sometimes it arrives in ink —Folded and late,But just in time."
🌙 That Night — A Reminder in the Most Unexpected Place
As Ruhi opened her diary to write, a page fluttered out — a sketch Rudra had drawn weeks ago.
It was a simple pencil outline of two sneakers beside a basketball — hers and his.
On the back, it said:
"Even if I run ahead, I'll leave footprints you can follow."
She smiled, through tears.
The crack hadn't closed completely —But maybe now…They could reach across it.
💫 End of Chapter 27