THE LAST SEMESTER

By the time this chapter begins, Ansh already knows one thing for sure-

Distance doesn't arrive suddenly.

It builds slowly, between unanswered calls and conversations postponed for later.

He is in one city.

Eashita is in another.

And most days, they meet only inside their phones.

"Did you eat?" she asks, almost automatically.

"Not yet," Ansh replies. "You?"

"Canteen food," she says. "You know how it is."

"Haan," he sighs. "I know."

There is always something unfinished between them-sentences cut short, calls dropped, emotions parked for a better time. When they laugh, it feels borrowed. When they fight, it feels permanent.

She talks about college-assignments, internals, friends who ask too many questions.

He talks about work-targets, meetings, and branches too far away to manage.

"You sound tired," she says one evening.

"So do you," he replies.

They don't ask why anymore. They already know.

Silence follows. Not the peaceful kind-the kind where both are thinking too much.

On nights like New Year's Eve, emotions spill over. Calls come late. Voices shake. Friends step in. Apologies arrive the next morning, half-asleep and fragile.

"I was drunk," she admits once.

"I was scared," he replies.

They forgive. They always do.

But forgiveness doesn't erase exhaustion.

"You'll come soon, right?" she asks.

"Soon," he says.

They both know soon has no fixed date.

This chapter doesn't end with clarity.

It ends the way most of their days do-