Chapter 12: A New Canvas

But before I could ask to meet, he disappeared from college.

He only left me a WhatsApp message:

[Family emergency, went back home, will return in half a month, don’t worry.]

I didn’t go looking for him, didn’t ask where he really went.

Even his roommate came to ask me,

“Ananya, don’t you want to know what’s up with Rohan?”

I shook my head, “Nothing I want to ask.”

He looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe I’d given up so easily.

“Uh… he said if you pestered me for the truth, I should tell you: he went to find Priya. She was in trouble, but he’ll be back in half a month, and won’t contact her again. He hopes you won’t worry or create a scene during this half month, just wait for him.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t seem to want to know, and didn’t care. Even hearing this, I felt nothing.

I simply nodded, shut my door, and went back to painting. My brush trembled, but the colours finally felt like mine. For the first time in a long time, the colours on my canvas felt like they belonged to me.

While he was gone, I sold all my grad school prep materials.

Stacked them on OLX, sent a few to juniors, gave the rest to the kabadiwala who comes every Friday with his bell and handcart. My shelf looked emptier, but my heart felt lighter.

I never wanted to go to IIT Delhi, and didn’t want to study a major I didn’t like. I just wanted to be with Rohan.

Now, that reason doesn’t exist. I don’t need those things anymore.

“Ananya, if you’re not going to grad school, let’s go have fun?”

Meera stood at the door, waving two movie tickets. I shook my head, more amused than annoyed.

“No.”

“Why not?”

I smiled and took out my study abroad application form.

Her mouth dropped open. I felt a small thrill of pride.

“Now things are even more serious than when I was prepping for grad school.”

Meera grinned, finally seeing the old me return. “Bas, now you’re talking!”

I left the library and started spending all my time in the art studio. My wallpaper changed from Rohan to myself.

For the first time, I stared at my reflection on my phone and didn’t flinch. My own face, my own smile.

Just as I was completely ready to say goodbye to Rohan and welcome a new life,

I ran into a girl on my way back from the studio.

She looked lost, fumbling with her tote bag. I almost walked past, but something about her stopped me.

As we passed, she called out to me.

“Did you and Rohan really break up?”

I turned to look at her. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her.

Her eyes were nervous, hands fidgeting with her dupatta. I wondered if she was a junior, or someone from one of my classes.

I didn’t want to be involved with Rohan anymore, so I quickened my pace, not planning to respond.

But her next sentence froze me in place.

“I know who posted your thread.”

My body froze, my mind struck blank as if by lightning.

All the noise around me faded. My bag slipped from my shoulder, forgotten. I turned to face her, heart thudding.

She wore black-rimmed glasses, carried a big backpack, looking like a quiet, good student.

Her hands shook a little as she adjusted her spectacles. She seemed almost apologetic.

It was hard to connect her with that vicious post.

I went with her to the nearest café.

We sat by the window, the sound of traffic and the smell of filter coffee filling the air. She ordered a chai, but barely touched it.

One cup of coffee, half an hour, but it was a huge reversal I could hardly process, no matter how hard I thought.

She spoke quietly, barely meeting my eyes. My own hands trembled on my lap.

And a truth I couldn’t accept no matter what.

“Ananya, that post was made by Rohan.”

I stared at her, the world spinning, and for the first time, I truly wanted to disappear.