CHAPTER 1
Dehradun, india.
It is said that your first day of college is a transformative moment—it's when your new life starts. For me, it was as transformative as a pencil hitting the floor.
I'm Nikhil, and my much-anticipated first day at Veridiana University was pretty anticlimactic. It was a day like any other, bleh and colorless. The day consisted of attending lectures held in large overly spacious classrooms where professors delivered monotonous, droning information about the syllabus and the academic dishonesty policy. I had conversations with a couple of guys in my class where we did the typical small talk thing where you ask each other, "where are you from?" and "what major are you in?" I got lost looking for the bathroom. It was, in a word, boring. The kind of boring that seeps into your bones and makes you question every life choice that led you to this point in your life.
When the final lecture was done, there was a dull twilit sky. I wanted to stay a little longer to soak up a slice of the college experience, but the more tired of smiling politely part of me longed for the peace of my room. I put my new, overly empty backpack on my shoulder and started my walk back to the hostel. honesty policy. I had conversations with a couple of guys in my class where we did the typical small talk thing, where you ask each other, "Where are you from?" and "What major are you in?" I got lost looking for the bathroom. It was, in a word, boring. The kind of boring that seeps into your bones and makes you question every life choice that led you to this point in your life...
.The way to the hostel begins by walking away from the main academic block building. One must first cross an old iron bridge that looks mildly abandoned. Underneath the bridge, there is a small, shallow stream. It's really not that exciting. I cross the bridge multiple times a day, the water is drowned out by the distant sounds of cars. I never paid any mind to the bridge.
Until that one day, everything changed.
That day, I was studying a phone, letting my feet walk on autopilot, crossing the bridge. It was a warm day, the water was still, and everything was pretty uneventful. I was thinking about a text I was going to send to my best friend, but I was thinking more about the text and not about the bridge at all, that was, until I looked up.
She was there.
A gust of wind lifted the ends of her dark honey-colored hair as it waved down her shoulders. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear to reveal her smooth jawline and calm nose. She was just sitting there, staring at the water, deep in her own head, but the stillness she had made it feel like the surroundings were waiting for her to say something.