Things had begun to feel quieter between Maddy and Diya—not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that fills every silence with overthinking.
Diya had slowly started spending more time with Harsh and his group. Not intentionally to distance herself from Maddy, but because she needed someone—anyone—who would meet her halfway. Harsh was there. He noticed when she looked lost in class. He asked if she'd eaten. He gave her space to laugh again, even if only for a while.
It was a relief to not feel like she had to pretend she was okay all the time.
Maddy, on the other hand, noticed the shift more than he cared to admit. Diya wasn't waiting for his texts. She didn't stop by to see if he was free. The bond that once felt like a constant thread tugging at him now felt frayed.
One evening, Maddy called her.
"Why didn't you tell me your roommate had a fight with the warden?" he asked abruptly. "I had to hear it from Harsh?"
Diya blinked, caught off guard. "It wasn't a big deal. It just came up when we were talking. I didn't hide it from you."
"Still," he said, voice tighter now, "you used to share these things with me. First."
There was a beat of silence.
"Maddy…" Her tone was gentle, but tired. "You hardly talk to me these days. You barely ask how I am. It's hard to share things when it feels like I have to force a conversation."
The words stung, because he knew they were true.
"I didn't mean to—" he started, but she cut in softly.
"Look, it's not like I planned to stop talking to you. It just… happened. Harsh was there. You weren't."
She wasn't trying to blame him. Just state the obvious. But Maddy couldn't shake the ache that someone else was filling the space he once held.
The next afternoon, their group went to try out a new canteen on campus. Diya, as always, was curious to try something different, but when the moment came, she ordered her own noodles. Maddy noticed it instantly.
She didn't wait for him to share like before.
That small gesture that once held a quiet intimacy between them was gone.
After lunch, Maddy found a moment alone with Harsh.
"She ordered her own noodles," Maddy said, trying to sound casual but failing.
Harsh looked at him knowingly. "Yeah. I told her to."
Maddy frowned. "Why?"
Harsh exhaled, leaning against a nearby wall. "Because she still looks at you with hope. Even after everything. If you keep doing these small things—sharing food, checking in, being around—without any clarity, she'll keep holding on."
Maddy didn't respond immediately. He hated hearing this from someone else, but he also knew Harsh wasn't wrong.
"You told her to stop hoping?" he asked, trying to mask the conflict in his voice.
"I told her to be normal," Harsh clarified. "To stop depending on the gestures. To let things go with the flow until you figure out what you want. She's trying, man. But you need to be honest, too."
Maddy didn't know what to say. Part of him was angry. But a deeper part—one he didn't voice—was afraid.
Afraid that if Diya truly stopped hoping, she might actually move on.
And he wasn't ready for that. Even if he was the one who told her to.