He Didn’t Come Today

Shiva didn’t mean to get there early.

He told himself it was just a coincidence.

His lecture had ended a bit sooner than usual, the campus was stuffy, and the neem tree had better shade than the hostel lounge.

That’s all.

It wasn’t because he expected Rohan to show up.

It wasn’t like that.

Still, he checked the time twice while pretending to read.

Fifteen minutes passed.

No sign of the black hoodie. No headphone wires. No popcorn crinkles. No unnecessary humming.

Just silence.

Shiva turned a page in his textbook — again, without reading a single word. He stared at a formula for entropy like it would suddenly rearrange into something meaningful.

He tried to focus. He really tried.

But it was different today. The silence felt heavier, denser. Like a thick fog of what’s missing had settled around him.

He kept glancing toward the corner where Rohan usually appeared — the bend behind the mess block, the shortcut from the canteen.

Every small movement made his heart react before his head could.

Nothing.

Another ten minutes passed.

A group of juniors passed by, laughing about something that echoed too loudly in the quiet afternoon.

Shiva closed his book and sat still. Not reading. Not waiting. Just... sitting.

Still. Silent. Like a question with no answer.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It was just one day. Maybe Rohan had class. Maybe he had plans. Maybe he forgot.

But forgetting?

That somehow made it worse.

For the past few days, Rohan had been there — annoying, loud, distracting — but there.

And even though Shiva never admitted it out loud, he'd started… expecting it.

The way you expect the sun to show up after 6:30, or the sound of the bell before lunch. It wasn’t dramatic. Just normal.

Now it felt like something had gone missing from his day, from his space.

From under the tree.

He stayed for almost half an hour, eyes on the page, seeing none of it.

Eventually, he left.

Not in a rush. Not with purpose.

Just… quietly. Like someone walking away from something they hoped would appear if they just waited a little longer.

And he hated that it made him feel something.

📖 Meanwhile…

Rohan sat on the floor in his living room, back against the sofa, phone face-down beside him.

His dad had been in and out of the hospital for a few weeks now, and today had turned into one of those days — quiet, heavy, and tense in a way no one needed to explain.

His cousin Annie was in the kitchen, making tea or maybe lunch. He couldn’t tell. The smell of curry leaves and mustard seeds drifted from the stove, filling the air with familiarity.

Somewhere in the background, an old Malayalam serial played on low volume. The kind with the overly dramatic music and slow zoom-ins.

Rohan looked at his phone again, even though he knew it didn’t matter.

He didn’t have Shiva’s number.

They hadn’t exchanged anything — not contacts, not even last names. Just shared shade and silence under a neem tree.

And still, something in his chest pulled toward that space. Like gravity had shifted.

He hated that he couldn’t tell Shiva where he was. That he couldn’t even say, “Hey, I didn’t vanish. Life just got in the way.”

He wondered if Shiva was sitting there right now.

If he waited.

If he left early.

If he noticed.

And Rohan didn’t know why that mattered so much.

But it did.