The cramps had started early that morning. Sharp, unrelenting, and exhausting. Diya curled up on her hostel bed, clutching a hot water bag, trying to breathe through the pain. But even through the discomfort, her heart carried one small excitement.
The bottle had arrived.
The same black bottle with Maddy's name on it—the one he lost on the train. The one that meant more than just hydration; it was a memory, an inside joke, a silent reminder of his voice nudging her, "Drink water, Diya."
The parcel had been dropped at the main gate of the college. And of course, in true college architecture fashion, the gate was what felt like a marathon away. But despite the ache in her body, Diya forced herself out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and started walking.
Every step was heavy, her head pulsing, the cramps making her knees buckle. But when she held the parcel in her hands, something flickered inside her—satisfaction, happiness… maybe even hope.
She called Maddy right after. "Where are you?"
"With Harsh and the others. In front of the block," he replied casually.
"Okay, don't move. I'm coming."
There was a bounce in her step as she made her way across campus. Her hands clutched the wrapped bottle with care, and her heart beat just a little faster—not because of the pain this time, but because of anticipation.
She spotted them quickly—Maddy, leaning against a wall, surrounded by laughter and casual banter. Harsh was there too, sipping a cold drink. Maddy's eyes found hers, and for a moment, his lips curled into a small smile.
"Hey," she said, stepping forward and holding out the bottle. "I got you something."
But as soon as his eyes landed on the gift, everything shifted.
His smile disappeared.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice rising louder than necessary. "Why are you bringing this here?"
Diya blinked. "It's the bottle. I ordered another one. The one you—"
"I told you not to do these unnecessary things," he cut in sharply. "And not in front of everyone. I don't want them thinking… anything. This isn't okay."
Silence fell around them. His friends turned away awkwardly. Harsh narrowed his eyes. Diya stood frozen, the weight of the parcel still in her outstretched hand, her heart thudding—not in excitement anymore, but in disbelief.
She opened her mouth to respond, but Harsh beat her to it.
"Maddy," he said, stepping forward. "If you don't want anything with her, then give her clarity. Tell her. Stop letting her do this."
"I already told her," Maddy replied coldly. "She's the one being stubborn. She won't stop hoping."
Diya's breath caught.
And just like that, everything shattered.
The cramps, the long walk, the effort… the meaning behind that bottle. Everything dissolved into a bitter ache.
She didn't speak. She couldn't.
Her fingers slowly let go of the bottle. Maddy caught it, but the look on her face said it all. Pain. Not just physical, but the kind that made the world feel still and colorless.
She turned around, her throat tight, and walked away without another word.
Because sometimes silence is louder than anything.