There are some people who exist in your life long before they actually arrive.
Evaara didn’t know this back then.
Back when she sat on the third bench from the window in her classroom, her notebooks always neat, her handwriting careful, her world small.
And somewhere in that same classroom—just two rows behind—sat Divit.
He wasn’t loud. Not the kind of boy teachers complained about. Not the kind girls whispered about either. He was just… there. Quiet, observant, almost invisible unless you looked closely.
And Evaara never really looked.
Not properly.
⸻
The school they studied in was tucked inside a small city—one of those places where everyone somehow knows everyone, where gossip travels faster than the wind, and where people grow up believing life will always stay the same.
Morning assemblies, the same prayers, the same corridors, the same faces.
Evaara had her own world.
Two close friends.
Lunch breaks filled with shared tiffins.
Occasional laughter that echoed a little too loudly in the quiet classroom.
Divit had his.
A group of boys who played cricket during recess.
Casual jokes.
Long silences where he just stared out of the window like he was somewhere else entirely.
They existed in the same space for years.
Same classroom.
Same teachers.
Same exams.
But not a single conversation.
Not even a “hi.”
⸻
Sometimes, life doesn’t begin with a spark.
Sometimes, it begins with absence.
⸻
Years passed like that.
Until school ended.
And with it, the illusion that everything would remain unchanged.
⸻
Delhi was chaos.
Loud. Fast. Unpredictable.
A complete contrast to the quiet rhythm of their small city.
It was strange how two people who had spent years ignoring each other ended up in the same city again.
Different colleges.
Different lives.
Different directions.
And still—
The same story.
No contact.
⸻
It wasn’t until a random evening that things changed.
Not dramatically.
Not magically.
Just… casually.
Like most important things in life.
⸻
“Tu bhi Delhi me hai na?”
That was the first time Evaara heard his voice directed at her.
They were sitting in a small café, one of those slightly cramped places filled with fairy lights and the smell of coffee that never quite left your clothes.
A common friend had dragged her there.
“Meet my school friends,” he had said.
She hadn’t expected him to be there.
Divit.
Sitting across the table, leaning back in his chair, looking just as calm as he used to in school—but different.
More… present.
⸻
Evaara blinked, slightly surprised.
“Haan,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tum bhi.”
A small pause.
Then he smiled.
Not wide. Not dramatic.
Just enough to make the moment feel… easy.
“Strange hai,” he said. “School me kabhi baat nahi hui.”
She let out a soft laugh.
“Seriously. It’s almost weird.”
And just like that—
The silence of years ended.
⸻
Friendship didn’t happen instantly.
It unfolded.
Slowly.
Comfortably.
⸻
It started with group conversations.
Then smaller ones.
Then random texts.
Then calls that lasted longer than intended.
⸻
Divit was easy to talk to.
That’s what Evaara noticed first.
There was no pressure.
No need to impress.
No fear of being judged.
He listened.
Actually listened.
And that was rare.
⸻
“Tu itna chup rehta tha school me?” she asked once during a late evening walk outside her PG.
“Main abhi bhi chup hi rehta hoon,” he replied.
“Not really.”
“Bas log badal gaye.”
She looked at him then, really looked at him.
There was something about the way he said things.
Simple words.
But they stayed.
⸻
Days turned into routines.
They started meeting more often.
Coffee.
Walks.
Random drives when Delhi felt too suffocating.
⸻
There was something unspoken between them.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
Just… a comfort that didn’t need explaining.
⸻
And then life shifted again.
⸻
“I’m going to Canada.”
Evaara said it casually, like it was just another update.
But it wasn’t.
It was everything.
⸻
Divit looked at her, surprised.
“Seriously?”
“Haan. For studies.”
“When?”
“Next month.”
There was a pause.
A small one.
But heavy.
⸻
“That’s… big,” he said finally.
She nodded.
“Yeah.”
But her voice didn’t carry excitement.
Not fully.
⸻
The truth was—
She wasn’t ready.
⸻
Canada was supposed to be a dream.
A better future.
New opportunities.
A bigger life.
But sometimes, dreams feel heavier than reality.
⸻
The first few weeks were the hardest.
Cold mornings.
Strange people.
Loneliness that settled deep in her chest.
⸻
Evaara wasn’t someone who showed weakness easily.
But distance has a way of stripping you down.
⸻
She started missing small things.
The noise of Delhi.
Familiar faces.
Even the chaos she once complained about.
⸻
And then—
One night—
Her phone rang.
⸻
“Tu theek hai?”
It was Divit.
No greetings.
No formalities.
Just that one question.
⸻
She didn’t know why, but something inside her broke a little.
“Haan,” she said.
A pause.
“Pakka?” he asked.
And that was it.
⸻
“I don’t like it here,” she admitted softly.
⸻
There was silence on the other end.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… present.
⸻
“Time lagega,” he said. “Sab theek ho jayega.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tu strong hai.”
She let out a small, tired laugh.
“I don’t feel like it.”
⸻
“Feeling aur reality same nahi hoti,” he replied. “Tu handle kar legi.”
⸻
That became a pattern.
Late-night calls.
Random texts.
Small reassurances.
⸻
He didn’t try to fix everything.
He just stayed.
⸻
And sometimes—
That’s all someone needs.
⸻
Days turned into months.
But the feeling didn’t change.
⸻
Canada never felt like home.
⸻
And one day—
She made a decision.
⸻
“I’m coming back.”
⸻
Divit didn’t ask questions.
He didn’t say “why” or “are you sure.”
⸻
“Kab aa rahi hai?” he asked.
⸻
And for the first time in weeks—
Evaara smiled.
⸻
The airport was crowded.
Loud announcements.
People rushing.
Suitcases rolling across the floor.
⸻
Evaara walked out, her heart beating faster than usual.
Not because she was back.
But because—
He was there.
⸻
Divit stood near the exit, hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd.
And when his eyes found her—
He smiled.
That same calm, familiar smile.
⸻
“Welcome back,” he said.
⸻
Something about those words felt… different.
Warmer.
⸻
“Miss kiya mujhe?” she teased lightly.
He looked at her for a second.
“Thoda sa.”
⸻
She rolled her eyes.
“Liar.”
⸻
But her heart—
It didn’t feel the same anymore.
⸻
Something had changed.
She just didn’t know what.
⸻
That evening, Delhi felt different.
Not chaotic.
Not overwhelming.
Just… right.
⸻
And somewhere between coming back and finding him waiting—
Evaara stepped into a story she didn’t even realize she had already begun.