Chapter three

The wolf

The memory of the little girl with the tear-stained face stayed with me longer than I ever expected it to. But oddly, it wasn’t her crying that lingered, it was her smile. The way her whole face lit up when I handed her a flower from my mother’s garden, a flower I didn't quite know the name of.

That moment stayed within me.

I’ve never been the overly sentimental type. I wasn’t a shy kid either. But even now, all these years later, I still wonder what made me do it, take her hand, walk her to my house like I had known her forever. I was only a boy, but I remember the voice in my head so clearly saying

“You have to protect her.”

Sixteen years later, that same voice whispered again.

I’d been walking back from the bookstore, lost in my thoughts, when I saw her, this young woman standing in the middle of a path, her body trembling, her shoulders shaking. I couldn’t see her face right away, but something in me just moved.

Without thinking, I stepped forward.

And when she looked up, my heart skipped a beat.

It was her.

I didn’t have proof. No name, no confirmation. But I knew. Just like I did back then. The same eyes, cloudy with tears but somehow still shining. The same helplessness wrapped in quiet strength.

I handed her a bottle of water. She drank like she hadn’t had anything for days. Then she wiped her tears on her sleeve, and I almost smiled.

That girl...the one with the messy school uniform and snot running down her nose, she was still here. Maybe a little taller, maybe a little braver. But still her.

When I asked if she wanted to sit, she nodded. No hesitation. No questions. No fear. Who follows a stranger that easily? She hadn’t changed one bit.

It’s funny how after all these years, I still didn’t know her name. Not because I never saw her again. I did, a few times. In passing, from a distance. But she never noticed me. And maybe I never had the guts to speak up.

But today, for some reason, I took her to my place. My secret spot. The one even my closest friends don’t know about. A patch of grass tucked in the forest, wrapped in quiet and fog. The one place that brings me peace when the world gets too loud.

Maybe I just wanted to see her smile again. Like she did with that flower.

Now, we sat side by side in silence, her presence oddly comforting.

And then she started talking.

She told me about her meeting with Mr. Jha, and how she thought he’d reject her poems, how her heart nearly stopped when he praised her work, how she signed the contract. Her voice trembled with joy, and I realized she hadn’t been crying from pain… but from happiness.

She was a poet. Of course she was.

I listened, quietly. Letting her words fall over me like soft rain.

“I’m glad,” I said when she finally stopped.

And I meant it.

I debated whether I should say anything about the memory. What if I was wrong? What if this connection was only in my head?

But… screw it. Some truths are worth risking.

“You know,” I began slowly, “years ago, I met a girl like you. Right in the middle of the road. tears staining her cheeks, school uniform all dirty, and snot running down her nose.”

I glanced at her just as her face shifted.

Confusion. Recognition. A touch of disbelief.

Her brows knitted together, and for a second she just stared at me.

Then, softly, she said, “What did you just say?”

Her voice had that quiet tremble again, not from crying but from remembering.

She blinked, eyes locked on mine. “That’s my memory.”

I nodded. “Mine too.”

She didn’t speak right away. Just looked at me like she was still piecing things together, making sure it wasn’t all some surreal coincidence.

“How did you…?” she started.

“You didn’t change,” I said with a soft smirk. “Same face. Same eyes. Still bad at hiding your emotions.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and I watched the red bloom like a secret she couldn’t hide.

I smiled wider. Yeah… it was definitely her.

She looked at me this time really looked at me. Her eyes scanned every inch of my face like she was trying to piece something together, searching for traces of someone she once knew.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid it might shatter the quiet around us.

“Devaansh,” I said, watching her closely, knowing that for sixteen years just like me even she was clueless about the names.

And in those same sixteen years, I had gone back to that one memory of ours the way her face had crumpled with sadness, and then bloomed into a smile with just a single flower. That memory had the power to pull me back from the edge of the worst days.

“And yours?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, casual...but my curiosity betrayed me.

“You mean my name?” she teased, tilting her head. I nodded.

“Why should I tell you? you are a stranger to me” she said suddenly, standing up and brushing the grass from her jeans like she was brushing off the moment itself.

I stayed seated for a second, smirking as I looked up at her. Then I rose, slowly, stepping a little closer, close enough to hear her breath catch.

“You say I’m a stranger,” I said, “yet you followed me into the woods… holding my hand.”

She turned pink again. Like clockwork. It was ridiculously cute.

She barely reached my shoulders, for she was 5'2", maybe 5'3". And standing at 5'10", I could see the way she looked up at me, both flustered and maybe a little mad at herself for it.

“Well, that’s because—” She paused, biting her lip like the words were fighting their way out.

“Because?” I nudged gently.

“…You felt familiar,” she said at last, softer than before. “Like I knew you.”

Those words… they landed straight in my chest.

So it wasn’t just me.

It wasn’t just my memory playing tricks. She felt it too, that strange sense of belonging, that quiet déjà vu. That warmth.

I didn’t get to reply. She turned and started walking down the trail that led back to the main road, just like that.

I blinked, then broke into a small jog to catch up. “That’s rude,” I said, pretending to sound wounded.

She stopped and spun around. “Thank you,” she said suddenly, seriously this time. “For listening. For the water. For the… grass spot,” she added with a faint smile. “And… thank you for meeting me again.”

There it was. That smile again. Like sunlight on cold skin.

It was stupid how much it meant to me.

But of course, I couldn’t just leave it at that.

“Well, I don’t accept it,” I said, folding my arms dramatically.

“What?” Her brows pulled together, confused.

“Your ‘thank you.’ I don’t take it.”

“Why?” she asked, annoyed but curious.

“Because it didn’t feel genuine. You didn’t show the right amount of gratitude in your body language,” I said, faking seriousness as I studied her face, trying not to laugh.

She crossed her arms too. “Okay, smartass. Then what do you want?”

I leaned in slightly, just enough to feel the tension shift.

“For starters… you haven’t told me your name.”

I honestly didn’t expect her to reply. I thought she’d roll her eyes, say something sarcastic, and keep walking with that little stomp of hers.

But instead, she stopped.

“Sushrita,” she said quietly, like her name was something delicate.

I said it in my head a few times...slowly, like a mantra I didn’t want to forget.

Then I let it roll off my tongue. “Sushrita.”

She nodded, confirming I’d said it right.

It fit her perfectly, like poetry stitched into a name.

“Well,” she said, already turning on her heel, “now that I’ve shown my gratitude... bye.”

And just like that, she was off again.

But I wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

I jogged in front of her, blocking her path like a very determined puppy who didn’t get enough attention. “Hey! wait.”

She sighed, already looking annoyed. “What now?”

God, why was that adorable?

“Just a name?” I raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t count as full gratitude.”

She crossed her arms. “And what does count, oh mighty Gratitude Police?”

I grinned. “How about… I waste a bit more of your time,” I said with mock drama, “and show you around Shimla?”

Her face didn’t give away much right away, so I tried to read her. A flicker in her eyes. A twitch at the corner of her mouth. Was that a smile trying to escape?

“I mean…” I added, lowering my voice a notch, “if you're going to be here for your poetry, might as well let a semi decent guy give you a scenic tour while rambling about weather and tea and all the ghost stories this town’s famous for.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. But in my chest? My heart was pacing like it was on a treadmill with something to prove.

And right then, in the quiet between us, it started to drizzle.

Tiny droplets falling through the trees, mist weaving around us like a secret.

Shimla was always dramatic like that.

Just like her.

“Sooo… you wanna be my tour guide?” she said, eyebrow arched, arms crossed, pretending to be unimpressed, but the way her lips twitched upward told a different story. She was trying, really trying not to smile.

That smirk?

God, did I tell her yet that she was the most adorable creature I’ve ever laid eyes on?

I did my best to stay cool, calm, and unbothered, even though my chest was throwing a full blown butterfly rave.

“Absolutely” I replied, head tilted just enough to be charming without trying too hard. “Five star rated. Emotionally available. Comes with random facts you didn’t ask for and a lifetime supply of zero boring moments.”

She actually laughed. Like, a real, unfiltered laugh...and that sound?

Way better than I’d ever imagined.

“And how much does this five star guide charge?” she asked, smile now fully formed, as if the thick wall separating us was starting to melt.

I tapped my chin, pretending to think when I already knew the answer. “Hmm… your time, your trust, and maybe… just maybe, a cup of hot coffee at the end?”

She narrowed her eyes, one hand on her hip like she was about to drop the bomb. And then she did

“But, Mr. Devaansh…” she said, with mock seriousness, “I don’t like coffee.”

I blinked. Betrayal. Pain. Tragedy.

“What?” I gasped. “Okay, that’s it. This tour is cancelled. You’re officially banned from Shimla.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “I prefer chai. Masala. Extra ginger.”

I placed a hand over my heart, fake wounded. “You wounded me, Sushrita. But…would you reconsider it if I tell you i make the best coffee?”

She smiled up at me, that same warm, teasing glint in her eye.

“Hmm, I can reconsider it then I guess” she said after pretending to think it over, a small smile on her face.

"Then it's a date-" I realized what I said then quickly corrected myself. "I mean a deal...a deal"

---

After last night, something in the air felt different, and lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt… better.

I kept thinking about it, replaying the moments over and over, and honestly? It felt like meeting her again wasn’t just a coincidence. It felt like fate had gently nudged me down this path. I’d only been back in Shimla for a week, drawn here by memories, nostalgia, the kind of pull only a place that owns a piece of your soul can have.

Shimla had always been more than a place. It was a feeling. A breeze. A whisper of childhood. Even now, just thinking about the fog tipped trees and the way the grass felt damp beneath your shoes in the early morning... it made my chest ache in the softest way.

Back in high school, the bus rides alone felt like adventures. The kind of simple things that made life quietly beautiful.

And then yesterday… I saw her again. After sixteen years.

Coincidence? Maybe. But I’ve never believed in randomness when something feels that right. And now that life handed me this strange, golden second chance and I wasn’t planning on wasting it.

It was already 10 a.m. Sushrita and I were supposed to meet at 10:30 sharp.

I stood in front of the mirror for one last check. Ivory white knit polo, light gray jeans, silver Titan watch. Clean. Casual. Hopefully not too effortful.

“I don’t look like I dolled myself up, right?” I muttered to my reflection, raking a hand through my hair before heading out and locking the door behind me.

The past 24 hours, I’d smiled more than I had in months. Maybe it was the air. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was both.

I was glad my parents weren’t in Shimla at the moment, this trip, this moment, this space, it was just mine. I’d come straight here after graduating, needing a break… and maybe needing to find myself again. I think I was finally on the right track.

---

10:25 a.m. I was early, standing just outside Café Simla Times on Mall Road, checking my watch like it mattered. Better early than late, right?

I glanced around, casually… until my gaze froze.

There she was.

“Sushrita” I breathed, too quiet for anyone but me to hear.

She wore a sundress, delicate and soft, with tiny painted pink flowers blooming across the fabric. It fit her like a glove. Her hair was open today, flowing down like ink across paper different from the bun she wore yesterday.

And yes, my heart? Absolutely sprinting.

She spotted me then, and smiled. God, that smile...and started walking over. We just stood there for a moment, face to face, saying nothing but somehow saying everything.

And then—

“Oh, so this is him,” a new voice chimed in from behind.

A tap on my shoulder made me turn, and I came face to face with another girl, around Sushrita’s age, short straight hair, dressed in cargo pants and an oversized shirt that screamed easy confidence.

“Hi! I’m Mira, Sushi’s best friend,” she grinned, extending her hand to shake mine like she already knew me.

I looked at Sushrita, a little confused, a little amused, and she just stood there with that signature smirk, like she was thoroughly enjoying this.

I was already impressed.

I glanced back at Mira, shook her hand with a polite smile, then turned my attention right back to Sushrita because honestly, how could I not?

She raised an eyebrow at me, silently daring me to say what was clearly dancing on the tip of my tongue.

“You look beautiful,” I said, casually...well, I tried to sound casual. “Did you dress up for me?”

A light blush bloomed across her cheeks, the kind you pretend isn’t there but can’t hide if your life depended on it.

“N-not at all,” she stammered, her voice a bit higher than usual. “Why would I?”

I just grinned, doing my best not to look too smug, and shrugged like it was no big deal. But inside? Yeah I was definitely enjoying that reaction a little too much.

Just as our little moment started to simmer, a very pointed throat clear sliced right through the air. It sounded too intentional to ignore.

“If you two are done eye fucking each other, can we please go?” Mira said, her arms crossed, and a dead serious expression.

Sushrita’s eyes flew open wide in pure horror as she turned to Mira.

“Oh my god, shut up!” she whisper yelled, slapping a hand over her friend’s mouth, her face now an even deeper shade of red.

I, meanwhile, tried so hard not to laugh out loud. But let’s just say…Mira was already my favorite third wheel.

It had been five minutes since we started walking down Mall Road, Shimla’s heartbeat dressed in fog and chatter. Mira was a few steps ahead, swaying to her own rhythm, while I matched my pace with Sushrita.

“So... Sushi, huh?” I asked, glancing at her with a crooked smile, referring to the nickname Mira had casually dropped earlier.

She turned to me with a soft, almost sheepish smile and gave a little nod. “Yeah... I know, it’s a bit weird. I actually nicknamed myself that back in high school.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly amused by her younger self. “I hated my name back then” she confessed, letting out a laugh at the memory.

“But it’s a beautiful name, and unique too” I said, sincere and without hesitation.

“I know,” she replied, her voice quieter now. “I realized that with time... but the 14 year old me wasn’t having it.” She glanced at me briefly before looking ahead again, her gaze a little distant now, thoughtful.

I gently reached out and held her arm, slowing her steps until she stopped and turned to face me.

“So... did you bring Mira just to annoy me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

She smirked, then put on her most innocent expression, the kind that didn’t fool anyone but still looked adorable.

“Oh my god? Why would it annoy you?” she said, almost looking shocked. “It’s not like this is a date, Mr. Devaansh.”

God, the way she said my name...it did something to me.

Without thinking much, I pulled her just a little closer, my hand still around her arm but not tight, just enough to keep her there for a second longer. A pause in time.

The air around us shifted, a little thicker now, heavy with something neither of us wanted to name yet.

And in that silence, her eyes locked onto mine, like she was trying to read something off my face... maybe the same thing I was trying to find in hers.

“Mira…” she said, barely above a whisper, like a gentle nudge to pull us both back from whatever moment we were caught in.

I loosened my grip and let go of her arm, watching as she turned her gaze to meet mine. For a second, she held it there and in that quiet look, everything was loud.

Yeah... I was drawn to her. Completely. And she?

She was too. I saw it. Felt it. In the softness of her eyes, in the way her breath hitched just a little when I pulled her close.

Then, like nothing happened, she gave me one last glance...half a smile, maybe more to herself than to me and then jogged over to Mira, slipping back beside her like that pause between us hadn’t just happened.

But it had.

And I had a feeling we’d both keep rewinding it in our minds.

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