Episode 19
1130 Words
The campus had transformed into a blur of fairy lights and music. The annual college fest was one of the most awaited events of the year . From the moment Karla stepped onto the fest grounds, it felt like the entire campus had shed its clinical white coat and slipped into glitter and chaos .
Students were buzzing in clusters, some flaunting their traditional outfits, others dancing near the stage where a local band played. Food stalls were packed, laughter echoed, and the air smelled of cotton candy, perfume, and freshly grilled kebabs .
Karla stood beside Jenna, dressed in a marron sexy
spaghetti with a thigh slit , trying to mirror the college fest energy around her. Her hair was loosely curled, a touch of kajal highlighting her eyes. She looked like every bit the celebration—but inside, she was crumbling .
Because Christopher was here .
And he wasn’t alone .
From across the lawn, she spotted him — in a navy shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his usual confident stride drawing attention without trying. But it wasn’t just *him* that Karla noticed .
It was the girl beside him. Dr. Marshall — a final-year PG student from dermatology. Tall, stunning, and always charming. They were laughing at something, walking close, her hand occasionally brushing his arm .
Jenna nudged Karla gently. “Hey, you okay? ”
Karla’s jaw clenched as she forced a smile. “Yeah, just… tired.”
“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Jenna muttered .
“I’m *fine*,” Karla snapped, instantly regretting the tone. “Sorry .”
Jenna gave her a look but didn’t push it further .
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The evening dragged on, one event bleeding into the next. Dance competitions, mimicry acts, open mic poetry. Karla tried to stay present, clapping, nodding, even smiling. But her eyes were glued to Christopher—always somewhere in the crowd, always surrounded by people .
And always with *her* .
At one point, during a stand-up act, Karla lost sight of him. Her heart jolted. She scanned the area—only to find him seated on a bench near the stalls, laughing hard at something Marshall whispered in his ear. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder .
That was it .
Karla’s blood surged. Her fists curled involuntarily. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was betrayal. Bitterness. Disappointment. And the ache of being *forgotten* .
She tried to look away, but her heart kept turning back.
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“You need a distraction,” Jenna said, dragging her toward the dance area. “Let’s dance. You look like you’re seconds away from combusting. ”
Karla allowed herself to be pulled in. The music was loud, the crowd even louder. She moved her feet to the rhythm, nodding along . But she wasn’t really *there* .
And then, it happened .
She spotted them again—this time, Christopher and Marshall heading towards the parking lot. It was past 11, the final event had just wrapped up, and most students were headed back to their hostels or PGs .
But not Christopher .
He was leaving—with her .
Karla froze mid-step .
Jenna turned to her. “What is it?”
“They’re leaving,” Karla said flatly, eyes locked on the figures walking toward the gate. “Together.”
Jenna followed her gaze. “Maybe they’re just—”
“I’m going,” Karla said, already moving. “I need to know.”
“Karla—wait!” Jenna called. “Don’t do anything stupid!”
But she didn’t stop.
She walked briskly past the dispersing crowd, past the security guards yawning by the gates, slipping into the shadows near the parking lot entrance. She watched them from behind a tree, the yellow streetlight above making them easy to spot.
Christopher unlocked his bike, while Marshall laughed, saying something he responded to with a grin.
Karla’s heart pounded as he handed her a spare helmet.
*No. No, no, no.*
He was giving her a ride.
He *never* offered rides casually—he always said he avoided giving lifts to anyone because it “started rumors.”
The helmet fit snugly on Marshall's head, and in seconds, she climbed onto the backseat of his bike. Christopher revved the engine, and they zoomed away, disappearing into the main road.
Karla stood rooted to the ground.
The night wind bit at her cheeks, or maybe it was the sting of tears threatening to spill.
Her breath hitched, and she turned around, walking away briskly, almost running—before her emotions betrayed her in public.
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By the time she reached her room, she slammed the door shut and collapsed on the bed.
All the memories came rushing in.
Him asking her not to tell anyone about the fun fair.
Him holding her that night.
The soft confessions, the playful question games, the stories, the texts, the way he said *“I missed you”* by liking her story.
And now?
He was leaving fests with someone else.
She opened i********:. Marshall had just posted a picture of Christopher’s bike mirror and a vague caption: *“Unexpected fun after a long day.”*
No tags.
But Karla knew.
She stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding painfully.
Then, without thinking, she opened their chat.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She wanted to scream, ask him what he was doing. Why he was playing with her. Why he kept drawing her in only to vanish. She wanted to ask if any of it—*any of it*—had meant something.
But instead, she typed:
> “You looked happy tonight.”
She stared at the message.
Then deleted it before hitting send.
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On the other side of the city, Christopher parked his bike and walked into his flat. Marshall's had taken a cab back home after reaching near the turning point area . He hadn’t planned to give her a ride. It just… happened.
He tossed his helmet aside and pulled out his phone. Notifications buzzed—mostly i********: tags and messages from friends.
Then he paused.
*“Karla is typing…”*
But the message never came.
He waited.
Nothing.
He opened her profile. She hadn’t posted anything after the fest. But her story from earlier—a boomerang with Jenna dancing—played on loop.
He tapped it. Watched it three more times.
And suddenly, the smile from earlier faded.
Because no matter who he was with tonight, no one had eyes like Karla.
No one else had ever looked at him like *that*.
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- Writer
