**Episode 3: Her Name Was Elina**
The next morning, Ayaan found himself scanning faces at Northlight, searching for *her*. He didn't know why — maybe curiosity, maybe something more — but he had to find her.
By lunchtime, he'd almost given up.
Then he saw her — at the far end of the library, seated by the window, nose buried in a thick novel. Same calm expression. Same quiet intensity.
She didn't notice him. And he didn't approach.
Instead, he walked over to the front desk. "Do you know who that is?" he asked the librarian, subtly pointing in her direction.
The librarian smiled. "That's Elina Chowdhury. Top of her department. Keeps to herself. Rarely talks to anyone."
"Elina," Ayaan repeated softly. The name lingered in his mind.
Over the next few days, their paths crossed again — in the library, at the campus café, once even outside a bookstore near his home. Always by coincidence. Or was it?
He watched her from afar. She was different. Focused. Unbothered by the chaos around her. Yet, behind that composed exterior, he sensed a storm — like her calm was just a mask.
Then came the day they finally spoke.
It was late afternoon. The university garden was nearly empty. Ayaan sat under a banyan tree, sketching aimlessly in his notebook. That's when he noticed her — Elina — sitting just a few benches away, a sketchbook in her hand too.
Without overthinking, he stood and walked toward her.
"Hey," he said gently.
She looked up. Her expression unreadable.
"I've seen you sketching," he continued. "Mind if I sit?"
She studied him for a second — then nodded.
Silence. A few awkward moments passed before he spoke again.
"I'm Rayhan. First year, business."
"Elina," she replied softly. "Second year. Literature."
Ayaan smiled. "Nice to meet you, Elina."
She nodded again, but didn't smile back.
Still, it was a beginning.
Over the weeks that followed, their interactions became more frequent. Short conversations turned into long discussions about books, art, life — even the rain. Especially the rain.
"I like how rain hides everything," she said one day. "No one can see you cry when it rains."
Ayaan looked at her. There it was again — that sadness. That ache beneath her words.
He didn't press. Not yet.
But he knew one thing: Elina wasn't just another girl. She was a puzzle — and somewhere within her, he felt, was a heart worth fighting for.
And perhaps… the key to fulfilling his grandfather's dying wish.
**To be continued…**