Pranav had known Swapnil Kadam since the seventh standard at Symbiosis High, Pune, when a shared contempt for their class teacher had established within a week that each was the only person in the room worth talking to. Fourteen years ago. Soumya was Swapnil’s kid sister. Swapnil loved her and it showed in the way he insisted on calling her Meow — a nickname she hated. Four years younger than the boys, she had existed at the edge of every memory Pranav had of that flat. Nobody was happy when Pranav decided to do a screenwriting programme at London Film School.

***

At the airport security, he put his bag on the belt and turned to wave.

Swapnil — both thumbs up, already a little red around the eyes, grinning through it. Meow — smiling that wide smile that made her eyes twinkle. And then, just before the smile widened to cover it, one streak on her cheek, wiped away fast with the back of her hand, and the smile back in place as though nothing had moved.

He had almost missed it. He had not missed it.

***

The Koregaon Park gathering was Swapnil’s idea to reconnect with friends who had been eager to meet him and whom he seemed to be avoiding since his return from London after three years.

Soumya arrived forty minutes in. Red off-shoulder crop top, bare shoulders above the gathered fabric. Black mini skirt ending at the top of her thighs. White Converse. Silver drop earrings — he remembered picking them up at the Indian handicrafts fair — catching the fairy lights as she moved. Her hair in its usual ponytail.

***

The group thinned over the next couple of hours. Swapnil disappeared with his phone. At some point Pranav became aware that he and Soumya were the only two left at the railing.

Their arms were touching. Neither of them moved away.

She was looking at the city. He was looking at the city, technically.

“You’ve been back four months,” she said, fingers twirling the edge of her ponytail. “You’re still treating me like I’m eighteen.”

He looked at her — the ponytail, the heel, the pleasant voice. “You mean you’re not still eighteen?”

She turned her head and looked at him steadily. “Twenty-one,” she said, then her smile appeared. “And a half.”

“Boyfriends?” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Some. None stuck.” A pause. “You? Girlfriend?”

“None stuck.”

She looked at the city for a moment. “Why? Didn’t find what you were looking for?”

“Something like that.” He looked at her. “You?”

She turned her head and met his eyes. Started to say something and stopped. Her hand went to her earrings, then back to her ponytail.

“Leave it,” she said, turning away from him.

“Come on, bol na,” he said, turning her around and stepping back. Her eyes were heavy as she looked at him, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks.

“I — I didn’t find you,” she said.

“Pranav,” Swapnil called out from the other end, waving him over.

Soumya turned away, looking at the city. Pranav didn’t know what to do.

Swapnil called him again, more urgency in his gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before leaving her at the railing and walking over to where Swapnil was standing with a stranger.

She never turned around. He was introduced but didn’t register who he was introduced to. He listened without listening and had no idea what he said. Swapnil left with the stranger and he turned to find Soumya sitting by herself, having collected herself.

“You’ve grown up,” he said, walking up to her and sitting next to her. A pause he hadn’t planned. “I didn’t.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. Then, for just a second, it became the full smile, the one that took over her whole face, the one from the airport.

“Adhya—my roomie—she’s in Delhi till Thursday,” she said. “Come over tomorrow if you want to find out just how much I’ve grown.”

Continue the story in Sou.

All images are AI generated and do not depict any real person.