Chapter 2 : Different Dreams, Same Destiny ♾️
895 Words
Different Dreams, Same Destiny ♾️
College life was a new world for both Riya and Riyan.
Riya stepped into the vibrant tech campus of an engineering college in Bangalore, suitcase in one hand and dreams in the other. Her room was small but neat — just the way she liked things. She decorated her desk with sticky notes, motivational quotes, and a small photo of her family. Coding, robotics, and algorithms became her universe.
She was laser-focused. When her roommates were out partying, Riya stayed up debugging code or preparing for hackathons. She quickly earned a reputation as “the girl who doesn’t miss a mark.” Professors admired her, classmates respected her — but few really knew her.
Riyan’s life in Chennai was nothing like Riya’s. His medical college was intense, chaotic, and alive with urgency. His white coat was always slightly wrinkled, and his stethoscope dangled around his neck like it belonged there all along.
He thrived in the unpredictability. Long nights at the hospital, assisting in minor procedures, memorizing endless anatomy charts — Riyan embraced it all. He joked with patients to ease their nerves and became known as the “doctor with a heart.”
Despite their distance and different paths, they unknowingly carried memories of each other. Sometimes, when Riya felt overwhelmed, she remembered that calm smirk Riyan used to flash during school competitions. Somehow, it made her smile.
And Riyan? Whenever he needed to push himself harder — like before a tough viva — he imagined Riya’s focused eyes and how she never let anyone beat her. It gave him just the right dose of fire.
But love? Still not on the horizon. They were too busy chasing goals.
Four years flew by. College ended. Convocation ceremonies brought proud tears and loud applause. Both Riya and Riyan graduated with top honors in their respective fields — once again, topping their classes. Their photos were printed in university magazines, LinkedIn posts, and family albums.
Riya landed a coveted job at a global tech firm. She relocated to Hyderabad, into a fancy apartment that overlooked the city skyline. Her days were filled with team meetings, codes, deadlines — and coffee.
Riyan started his medical internship in a hospital back in his hometown. His work was exhausting but rewarding. He made a habit of bringing sweets for the nurses on Fridays and sitting with elderly patients even when he didn’t have to.
Their parents were proud. But like many Indian families, they now had one thing on their minds — marriage.
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Riya’s mother had begun the usual conversations at dinner. “You’ve settled in your job. Don’t you think it’s time to think about your future?”
Riya would sigh. “Ma, I’m still figuring out my now.”
“Just meet someone,” her mother persisted. “No pressure. But your cousin met her husband through a family proposal, and they’re so happy.”
On the other side of town, Riyan’s parents were doing the same. “We’ve seen a few matches for you,” his father said, scrolling through a matrimonial app. “All well-educated girls. You should at least look.”
Riyan grinned. “Papa, I’ll get married, just not off a mobile screen.”
But destiny doesn’t always wait for you to be ready.
One evening, Riya’s parents visited her with a proposal. “There’s a boy,” her mother began cautiously. “His name is Riyan Varma.”
Riya paused. Her fork mid-air. That name.
“Wait… what?” she asked, confused. “Riyan Varma? From which city?”
“From your hometown. He’s a doctor now. His parents said he studied in your school.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
Could it be…?
Her father handed her a biodata printout with a neatly clipped passport photo. She stared at it, stunned. It was him. The same boy who used to challenge her for the top spot in school. The same name she hadn’t spoken aloud in years.
And in Riyan’s house, the exact same moment was playing out. His mother handed him a photo. “Do you remember her?” she asked.
He did. The moment he saw her face, the memories came rushing back — that fierce debate, the farewell stage, the silent nod.
“That’s Riya Sharma,” he said softly, eyes lingering on the picture longer than he realized.
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Their parents set up a video call. Neither of them knew what to expect.
Riya logged in, slightly nervous. Her hair was tied back, her laptop camera perfectly adjusted.
Riyan appeared on screen, in a casual shirt, smiling slightly. “Well, this is new,” he said.
She laughed. “Definitely not how I imagined talking to you again.”
They spoke for an hour. Then two. The call stretched into the evening. They talked about school days, their careers, how strange this whole thing was. There were pauses, but none uncomfortable. There was laughter, and this time, it wasn't competitive — it was warm.
Neither of them said it, but both felt it.
Maybe this isn’t such a strange idea after all.
When the call ended, Riya leaned back and smiled to herself.
And miles away, Riyan looked at her photo one more time and whispered to himself,
“Same name, same school, same rank... maybe same future too?”
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- Writer
