Truth on the Rooftop
The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint rustle of wind brushing against the railings. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the campus, but the air felt heavy, almost suffocating. Leaning against the railing, I watched the police car slowly roll through the front gates, its sirens off but its presence unmistakable. It disappeared down the road, leaving behind a peculiar silence that gnawed at my chest.
"They handed over Akash, huh?" I muttered to myself, the words carried off by the breeze. My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. I bit my lip, trying to steady my breathing as my thoughts spiraled. "What are they going to do about me… after they know the truth?"
The question lingered, cold and biting, as I closed my eyes for a moment.
I imagined the scenario in vivid detail—cold interrogation rooms, stern faces, and questions that felt like knives pressing against my throat. Would they even listen to me? Or would they already have made up their minds, their verdict etched in stone before I could utter a word? The weight of it all bore down on me, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the railing tighter.
I stepped away, letting my back hit the hard concrete surface of the rooftop. The world above me blurred as I lay on the ground, my vision swimming without my glasses. The sky seemed so far away, its expanse indifferent to my turmoil.
"Dizzy… great," I murmured, closing my eyes against the spinning horizon. The faint warmth of the sun didn't reach my skin—it felt more like a distant memory than a present comfort.
My mind drifted back to the police car, to Akash, to everything that had led to this moment. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.
"Will they even give me a chance to explain?" I whispered, my voice barely audible now.
The setting sun bathed the campus in hues of gold and crimson, its dying light painting the college buildings with an ethereal glow. The sky, a gradient of orange and deepening blue, seemed to hold its breath, mirroring the tension in my chest. Birds were returning to their nests, their distant chirps blending with the soft rustle of the evening breeze.
Rahul had called me to the rooftop, saying he needed to talk. I already knew what he wanted to say. His awkward silences and hesitant words during our last date had been enough to piece it together. Today, it would happen for real—our breakup.
I opened the rooftop door, its hinges creaking slightly. The air was cooler up here, carrying with it the faint scent of dried leaves. My steps felt heavier as I walked toward the corner where Rahul had said he'd be.
And then I saw him.
He was lying on the ground, his college uniform slightly wrinkled, his tie loosened carelessly. His eyes were half-closed, gazing at the fading sky as though lost in thought. I hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.
"Rahul?" I called softly, my voice barely louder than the wind.
He stirred, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of his head. "Ah, Salina. Thanks for coming," he said, his tone calm but distant, a small, almost tired smile playing on his lips.
"So, what's up?" I asked, keeping my voice steady even though I could feel the lump forming in my throat. My eyes met his, searching for any sign of hesitation, but his expression was unreadable.
He exhaled softly, his gaze drifting past me to the horizon. "Let's break up," he said, his voice even and resolute. "Let's just be good friends. The kind who care about each other… but don't confess because of a punishment game."
The words hit like a cold gust of wind. I swallowed hard, steadying my breath. "So… you know about the punishment game?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his smile faint but unshaken. "Yeah," he said simply.
"Okay then," I replied, the corners of my mouth lifting in a weak smile. "Let's be friends. But I have a question for you."
His brow furrowed slightly. "What kind of question?"
I hesitated, my heartbeat quickening as I asked, "Do you hate me?"
His lips parted, but no words came. Instead, his eyes softened, and he seemed to wrestle with his thoughts. The silence between us stretched on, heavy and nerve-wracking.
Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle. "The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. I turned to the horizon, the vibrant colors blending seamlessly. "Yeah," I murmured, "it is."
Silence fell between us again, but this time, it felt lighter, almost peaceful. I kept my eyes on the sunset, the warmth of its light brushing against my skin.
I didn't know that my first breakup could feel like this—bittersweet yet strangely beautiful.
The sun continued its descent, the vibrant reds and golds of the sky gradually fading into deeper shades of purple and blue. I kept my eyes on the horizon, lost in the swirl of colors that seemed to echo the memories of my past. The dying light held a strange beauty, a reminder that some things fade gracefully, leaving behind only traces of warmth.
I glanced down at the campus below, noticing a car pulling into the lot near the building. The sleek black sedan caught my attention, and a flicker of recognition sparked. It was Harsh's car. The memory of that day—dinner with him and Miss Madhu—flashed in my mind.
"Hey, look. Harsh is here," I said, pointing to the car below.
"Yeah," Salina replied softly, her eyes following my gesture. "He said he'd pick me up today."
I nodded, stuffing my hands into my pockets. "Okay then… bye."
"Bye," she said, her voice quiet but steady.
She turned and walked toward the stairs, her footsteps soft against the concrete. I watched her leave, the weight of the moment settling in my chest. The door clicked shut behind her, and I was left alone on the rooftop, the faint sound of birds filling the silence.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me from my thoughts. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen—Harsh.
"Where are you?" his voice came through, calm and familiar.
"Above you. Look at the rooftop," I said, leaning over the railing and waving.
He stepped out of his car, craning his neck to look up. I saw him raise his hand in acknowledgment before heading inside.
Ten minutes later, Harsh emerged onto the rooftop, his casual blue sweatshirt and baggy jeans making him look more relaxed than usual.
"Hey, Rahul," he greeted, his tone light as he walked toward me.
"Hey," I replied, raising a hand lazily.
He didn't waste any time. "Did you break up with Salina yet?"
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Just now."
Harsh pulled a check from his pocket and handed it to me. "Here."
"Thanks," I muttered, slipping it into my blazer without a glance. As I did, a thought struck me. The necklace. I had bought it for Salina on one of our dates. It was still in my bag.
"I want you to give something to Salina on my behalf," I said, turning toward the stairs. "It's in my bag. Give me a minute; I'll grab it."
Before I could take a step, Harsh grabbed my wrist. "Don't worry. Here's your bag." He handed it to me.
Confused, I took the bag from him. "How did you—?"
"I ran into Salina in one of the classrooms," he explained. "I was checking every room, trying to figure out where you have your lectures. She gave me directions to the rooftop and handed me your bag to pass along."
"Thanks," I murmured, unzipping the bag. From its inner pocket, I retrieved the small jewelry box and handed it to Harsh. "Give this to her on her birthday."
He frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Why don't you give it to her yourself?"
I hesitated, my grip tightening on the bag. "You know what I did, right?"
Harsh's expression darkened slightly, and he nodded. "Yeah. Madhu told me as soon as I got back to the city. I was furious—so much that I had to consult my psychiatrist. When I talked about you, he listened and said it's impossible that you're doing this for the money. You know that too."
I stayed silent, the weight of his words pressing down on me.
"You love her, don't you?" Harsh asked softly.
I shook my head slowly. "I don't know. I can't tell if it's love or not, but one thing's for sure—I care about her."
Harsh sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If you care, who cares about love? Be her real boyfriend. I'll support you however I can."
I let out a bitter laugh, my gaze drifting back to the horizon. "As a wise man once said, 'The right person, the wrong time. The right script, the wrong line. The right poem, the wrong rhythm. And a piece of you, that was never mine.' I've made up my mind, Harsh. She lives in a different world. Her upbringing, her surroundings—they're nothing like mine. It's for the best. I know it is."
Harsh didn't respond immediately. He stood in silence, his expression unreadable as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky in a soft, dusky glow.
The sky had darkened into soft shades of indigo, the final traces of sunset fading into the night. The rooftop air felt cooler now, carrying a subtle stillness that wrapped around us like a blanket. Rahul stood before me, his expression calm yet thoughtful.
In the quiet of this moment, I felt something shift inside me. The answer I had been searching for all this time finally became clear. It wasn't guilt, nor pity, that made Madhu want to marry me. It was the life we had shared—the way we had grown up together, shaped by the same environment, the same memories. Our shared surroundings had quietly sown a bond between us, one that neither of us had fully recognized until now.
She understood me in ways that no one else ever could, and though I had never fully acknowledged it, I cared for her too—deeply. I couldn't explain it in words, nor could I put the feeling into coherent thought, but for the first time in a long while, my heart felt lighter.
I let out a soft breath and turned to Rahul, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Thank you," I said, my voice steady despite the slight tremor in my chest. I nodded, biting my lip to suppress the surge of emotions.
Rahul nodded back, his gaze steady. "Bye," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Salina's waiting for you downstairs. You should go."
I studied him for a moment, the quiet determination in his eyes. There was no doubt—he had made the right choice in not choosing Salina. It wasn't just logic; it was a gut feeling, an unshakable certainty that this was the path he was meant to take.
Without another word, I turned and made my way down the staircase. The faint sound of my footsteps echoed against the walls, the weight of the moment sinking deeper with each step.
When I reached the parking lot, Salina was leaning against my car, her arms crossed as she stared at the ground. Her figure was illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp, the golden light casting long shadows on the pavement. She looked up as I approached, her expression a mix of curiosity and quiet resolve.
"Let's go," I said simply, unlocking the car.
She nodded, slipping into the passenger seat without a word.
As I got in and started the engine, I glanced at the rooftop one last time. The silhouette of Rahul stood still against the darkened sky, and in that moment, I felt a quiet respect for him—a man who chose to let go for the sake of something greater.
Without a word, I drove off into the night, the sound of the engine blending with the soft hum of the world outside. The answer I had found wasn't just for him—it was for me too.
The rooftop stretched out like a quiet sanctuary beneath the vast, star-strewn sky. The breeze was cool, brushing gently against my face as I stood at the edge, my hands resting on the rough metal railing. The city below hummed softly, its distant lights flickering like dying embers. But up here, everything felt distant, muted—just me and the scenery that mirrored the fragments of my soul.
The horizon, tinged with the faint glow of the city, seemed endless, yet it reminded me of how confined I had always felt. The vastness mocked me, like a silent reminder of the world that had rejected me.
I let out a bitter laugh, the sound carried away by the wind. "Weak. Pathetic. A burden," I murmured to myself, the words as sharp as they were familiar. They were the labels the world had slapped on me, branding me as someone who didn't belong.
The memories surged—cold stares, dismissive laughter, the feeling of being shoved aside, of being unwanted. It wasn't long before that rejection turned into anger. It burned fiercely, consuming everything within me, but even anger wasn't enough. Over time, it rotted, festering into something deeper, darker. Hate.
"I let it consume me," I said aloud, my voice steady despite the storm brewing within. "And in that darkness, I found myself alone. Completely, utterly alone."
I closed my eyes, the wind tugging at my hair, as if trying to pull me back from those thoughts. But I didn't resist. I embraced the memories, the pain, and the transformation that followed. In the depths of that void, I found a twisted clarity—a sense of purpose that hadn't existed before.
A faint smile tugged at my lips as I opened my eyes and looked up at the stars. "It wasn't just darkness," I whispered. "It was the foundation for something… better."
The Architect had shown me the way. My gods, my guides—they had taken the broken fragments of who I was and forged something new, something unshakable. They gave me a purpose, a design that made sense when nothing else in the world ever had.
I straightened, my grip on the railing firm as I gazed into the endless night. "I've rebuilt myself," I said, my voice stronger now, filled with quiet conviction. "Not from the ruins of who I was, but from the blueprint they gave me. I'm no longer weak. No longer pathetic. I am my own creation."
The wind howled softly, as if in agreement, carrying my words into the night. And for the first time in a long while, I felt a strange sense of peace.
The golden light of the setting sun painted the art gallery in warm, dreamy hues. The sky above was a canvas of fiery orange and soft pink, the kind of beauty that made everything feel fleeting and precious. The gentle rustle of leaves and distant chatter of peoples signaled the end of another day—but for me, it was more than that.
Today marked the end of the internship.
I stood at the edge of the rooftop, my gaze sweeping over the familiar buildings, each corner holding memories of shared laughter, and quiet moments of reflection. My heart swelled with a mixture of nostalgia and anticipation. This chapter of my life was closing, but something else was about to begin.
Pulling out my phone, I typed a message with a smirk:
"Today is the end of the internship. Be ready, my cute junior Rahul! I'm coming!"
I hit send, the faint vibration of the phone confirming its delivery. A playful giggle escaped my lips as I imagined his reaction. Flustered, confused, or maybe even a little excited? The thought made my heart race, a subtle warmth spreading through me.
"Rahul," I murmured, the name lingering in the air like a whispered secret.
The wind picked up, tousling my hair as I leaned on the railing, letting the cool breeze carry away my nerves. This wasn't just about teasing him—it was about marking the end of something special and the start of something new. The bonds we'd formed, the lessons we'd learned, and the moments we'd shared—they would all lead us somewhere, wouldn't they?
A soft chuckle bubbled up as I straightened and adjusted my blazer. "Let's see if you're ready for me, junior."
The sound of the rooftop door creaking open briefly caught my attention, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I smiled to myself, savoring the weight of the moment.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the art gallery in its final glow, I whispered softly, as if to the fading light, "This is just the beginning." The scene fades to black, leaving only the sound of the wind.
the volume ends with a quiet yet thrilling promise of what's to come.
Story by prince