It started with a message on the class WhatsApp group.
📸 Tanya Sharma:"Guys… guess who's been passing love letters like it's the 90s? Found this in the Lit department today 😂💌"
(Image attached: Rudra's lost letter, slightly crumpled but clearly addressed "To Ruhi")
By the time Ruhi arrived on campus that morning, the whispers had already begun.
"She writes love letters?""No, HE does. Rudra Sharma, can you believe it?""Maybe she begged him for attention?""Or maybe it's staged drama…"
Ruhi stood frozen near the canteen noticeboard, heart sinking as she saw the blurry photo now printed and pinned up with a title:
"Ruhi's Romance Reveal – Lit Dept's Secret Love Story?"
It was cruel. Petty. Humiliating.
But worst of all — it was real.
The words in that letter had meant something. They weren't meant to be a joke.
Ruhi snatched the paper down and walked away quickly, keeping her head low.
Behind her, someone chuckled. Tanya Sharma.Smug. Sharp-tongued. One-sidedly obsessed with Rudra since the first week of college.
Meanwhile, Rudra sat alone in the basketball stands, staring at the photo now being forwarded on every student group.
His jaw tightened.
He remembered giving that letter to Aarav. Remembered how carefully he'd folded it. And now… everyone had read it but the girl it was meant for.
His phone buzzed. It was Aarav.
Aarav: "Bro, I just found out. Meet me behind the library. ASAP."
Aarav was already pacing when Rudra arrived.
"I'm so sorry," Aarav said, clearly shaken. "I handed it to her — she must've hidden it somewhere, and someone else grabbed it. I had no idea it got out."
Rudra didn't speak.
Then finally — "Where's Ruhi now?"
"I think she went to the rooftop garden. She looked… crushed."
Ruhi sat on the bench beneath the bougainvillea vines, knees pulled to her chest. Her diary lay on her lap, unopened. The sky above was a faded grey, like even the sun was embarrassed.
She had never felt so exposed before.
The worst part wasn't the rumors.It wasn't even the photo.
It was the fact that now everyone knew how she felt, before she had the chance to tell Rudra herself.
When footsteps approached, she didn't look up.But his voice broke the silence anyway.
"Ruhi."
She stiffened.
He sat beside her, gently, giving her space.
"I'm sorry," he said first. "For everything."
She didn't answer right away.
Then finally — "They made a joke out of us."
"Not us," he said, calmly. "Just a letter. People only mock what they wish they had."
Ruhi turned to him. "Did you mean it? What you wrote?"
He met her eyes. "Every single word."
Her throat tightened. "I never got to read it properly."
He smiled faintly, reaching into his pocket. Then slowly, he pulled out a folded paper — this time, her letter.
"I guess we're even."
She gasped, "Where did you—?"
"I found it. In your diary. Simran gave it to Aarav to return when you weren't well yesterday. I read it last night."
Ruhi stared at him, stunned.
Rudra leaned closer.
"I'm not ashamed of loving you, Ruhi. Not if it's real. Not if it's this."
She felt tears sting the corners of her eyes — but not from sadness.
From relief.
From being seen.
From finally feeling safe.
He took her hand slowly.
No audience. No spotlight. No chaos.
Just them.
Across campus, in the courtyard lit by afternoon sun, Simran and Aarav sat on the garden steps with cups of iced nimbu-paani.
"You really gave Ruhi's letter back without reading it?" Simran asked.
"I wanted to," Aarav replied. "But I didn't."
Simran looked up, surprised.
He added, "Because I knew what was inside it wasn't meant for me. It wasn't mine to know."
She smiled. "That's rare."
"What is?"
"Integrity. In boys like you."
Aarav chuckled. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a threat."
"It's both," she said.
He paused, then looked at her more seriously. "You're special, Simran."
She looked away. "You don't even know me."
"I don't need to. I see how you care about people. The way you defend Ruhi. How you walk into a room and change its mood without saying anything."
Simran blinked. "I never thought you noticed that."
"I do," he said softly. "I notice everything about you."
They sat quietly for a long time.And though no words were spoken, something shifted.
A quiet promise.
By the next day, the buzz from the letter scandal had faded.
Tanya tried once more to poke fun during class — "So, Ruhi, are you charging people now for handwritten romance coaching?" — but this time, it didn't sting.
Because Rudra — sitting beside Ruhi — turned and said coolly, "She's charging for patience, actually. You wouldn't qualify."
The class chuckled. Tanya flushed and looked away.
And that was the end of it.
That evening, Ruhi and Rudra walked together to their favorite chai stall just outside campus. The sky was golden, painted in the soft hues of Delhi's sunset hour.
"I like this," Ruhi said, sipping her cup.
"What?" Rudra asked.
"This... normal. Quiet. After everything."
He nodded. "Me too."
She turned to him. "Thank you. For standing beside me. For not... stepping back."
He smiled. "You stood beside me first."
They clinked their clay cups lightly.
It was the simplest of moments.
But it meant everything.
That night, Ruhi opened Beyond the Buzzer for what felt like the hundredth time.
But this time, she didn't write from uncertainty.
She wrote from peace.
Beyond the Buzzer – Page 39_"Love is not in grand gestures.It's in standing beside someone when they're being laughed at.It's in hearing silence and understanding it.It's in handwritten letters... lost and found again.
And now I know —
It's in him."_
To be continued...