After the celebration night, things slowly settled again.
Aakrati's days became busy with wrapping up her internship work and preparing for her new job. Life felt like it was moving forward quickly, yet somewhere inside her there was still an emptiness she didn't like thinking about.
Arsh still hadn't contacted her.
At first she checked her phone every few hours.
Then once or twice a day.
Then she tried to pretend it didn't matter.
But sometimes when she opened her gallery and saw pictures from the trip, her fingers would pause for a second longer than necessary.
She would quickly close it.
And move on.
Krish, meanwhile, had become someone who was around more often—but not in a way that felt forced.
Sometimes he would call.
Sometimes they would run into each other.
Sometimes Shrisha would invite him over because, apparently, he was now "family level irritating."
One evening Aakrati was sitting in a small café near her office, staring at her laptop screen with deep concentration.
Her internship supervisor had asked her to redo a section of her final submission and she was struggling to make it look right.
"This still looks wrong," she muttered.
A voice behind her replied casually,
"It's because your alignment is off."
She looked up.
Krish stood there holding a coffee.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Meeting," he said, pointing toward the other side of the café. "My hotel project team uses this place sometimes."
He pulled a chair and sat across from her without asking.
"Show me."
Aakrati turned the laptop toward him.
He studied the screen quietly.
"You always rush through the small details," he said after a moment.
"I do not."
"You do."
She frowned.
"Remember school presentations?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"You still remember those?"
Krish smiled faintly.
"You used glitter glue on a science chart."
"That was creative!"
"That was chaos."
She laughed despite herself.
He adjusted a few things on her document and pushed the laptop back.
"There."
She blinked.
"That actually looks better."
"Of course it does."
She studied him curiously.
"You're suspiciously helpful these days."
Krish leaned back in his chair.
"You say that like I wasn't always helpful."
"You used to bully me."
"I corrected you."
"You stole my lunch once."
"You had two lunch boxes."
"That's not the point!"
They both laughed.
For a moment it felt strangely comfortable.
Like they had slipped back into an old rhythm they hadn't shared in years.
Before leaving, Krish said casually,
"You're doing well, you know."
Aakrati looked at him.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
He said it so simply that it felt genuine.
Another evening Shrisha dragged both of them to a small street market.
"Why are we here again?" Aakrati asked.
"Because I want chaat," Shrisha said confidently.
Krish walked beside them, occasionally teasing both of them.
Aakrati stopped near a stall selling handmade bracelets.
"These are cute," she said, picking one up.
Krish watched her quietly.
"You used to collect these," he said suddenly.
She looked up.
"You remember that?"
"You had like twenty of them."
"Twenty-five," she corrected proudly.
Shrisha looked between them suspiciously.
"You two sound like an old married couple."
"Shut up," Aakrati said immediately.
Krish chuckled.
Eventually Aakrati bought one bracelet.
As they continued walking, she said thoughtfully,
"It's weird meeting someone after so many years."
Krish looked ahead calmly.
"Eight years isn't that long."
"It is when people change."
He glanced at her.
"You didn't change much."
She raised an eyebrow.
"That's an insult."
"It's not."
He hesitated for a moment before adding quietly,
"You're still the same person who talks too much and laughs too loudly."
Aakrati nudged his arm.
"And you're still annoying."
But she smiled.
Later that week Aakrati had a particularly exhausting day at work.
Her internship was ending and everything felt rushed.
When she came home she dropped her bag on the couch and sighed loudly.
Shrisha glanced at her.
"You look like someone stole your happiness."
"Work."
"Obviously."
Her phone buzzed.
Krish.
She answered lazily.
"Yes?"
"Shrisha told me you looked like a zombie today."
Aakrati glared at Shrisha, who pretended not to notice.
"I am not a zombie."
"You sound like one."
She sighed.
"I'm just tired."
Krish was silent for a moment.
Then he said gently,
"You've always pushed yourself too hard."
She leaned back on the couch.
"You sound like my school teacher."
"Well someone had to say it."
She smiled slightly.
"Thank you for the concern, Mr. Responsible."
"Don't get used to it."
But his voice carried a softness she didn't question.
That night after the call ended, Krish sat alone on the balcony of his apartment.
The city lights flickered below.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing in particular.
Seeing Aakrati again after eight years had done something he hadn't expected.
He had told himself long ago that whatever he had felt for her as a teenager was childish.
Temporary.
Something people grow out of.
But the moment he saw her again…
Laughing the same way.
Talking the same way.
Looking at the world with the same careless brightness—
It felt like those feelings had simply been waiting quietly somewhere inside him.
And now they were awake again.
The only problem was…
Aakrati's world already seemed to have someone else in it.
Krish exhaled slowly and looked up at the night sky.
Still, he couldn't help one small thought from forming in his mind.
If life had brought her back into his world again after eight years…
Maybe it meant something.
Or maybe it meant nothing at all.
Either way—
For now, he was just glad she was back.