WITNESS

WITNESS Chapter 2 Her Own Guardian

WITNESS

Chapter 2 — Her Own Guardian

On Parent-Teacher Association days, even a school seemed to acquire a different face.

The children who usually came rushing through the corridors at the sound of the bell arrived that morning holding their parents’ hands instead.

Unfamiliar faces filled the hallways.

The soft colours of mothers’ sarees.

The composed, serious expressions of fathers.

Small complaints.

Proud praises.

Quiet concerns spoken in lowered voices.

“He never studies at home, ma’am.”

“She needs to pay a little more attention to Mathematics.”

“He’s doing very well.”

Every parent carried a different story.

Every child had someone there to hear it.

Ruhi sat at her desk and watched it all with her usual smile.

Ananya’s mother stopped beside her.

“You’re Ruhi, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“Ananya talks about you all the time.”

Ruhi slowly turned towards Ananya.

“Good things, I hope?”

“Amma, please.”

The embarrassment on Ananya’s face made Ruhi laugh.

Around her, everyone seemed to have someone.

A mother.

A father.

Someone.

In front of Ruhi, there was only an empty chair.

She did not look at it.

At least—

that was what it appeared to everyone else.

---

Mrs. Mehta closed the attendance sheet and walked towards her.

“Ruhi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Your parents didn’t come?”

Ruhi shook her head without hesitation.

“No, ma’am.”

“They couldn’t make it?”

A faint smile touched Ruhi’s lips.

“Probably.”

That was all.

As though there were nothing more to explain.

Mrs. Mehta watched her for a moment.

“You have a few forms that need to be signed.”

“I’ll sign them.”

“They require a parent’s signature, Ruhi.”

A small silence settled between them.

Ruhi’s fingers tapped once against the edge of the desk.

Then she smiled.

“Then I’ll sign as my own guardian.”

The concern in Mrs. Mehta’s expression deepened.

“You don’t have to handle everything alone, Ruhi.”

Ruhi looked at her.

“I know, ma’am.”

She picked up the form.

Slowly, she uncapped her pen.

For a moment, she simply looked at the empty line.

Then she signed.

Her handwriting was clear.

Steady.

Certain.

She folded the form and handed it back.

“Done.”

There was no helplessness in her voice.

Only the quiet composure of someone who had learned, far too young, how to take care of herself.

---

After school, Ruhi left alone, as she always did.

Her hostel was only a short walk away.

Delhi was beginning to gather its evening rhythm.

The warm scent of tea drifted from a roadside stall.

Auto-rickshaws sounded their impatient horns.

An old bookshop stood at the corner, its shelves spilling onto the pavement.

The city was slowly becoming louder as the day slipped towards evening.

Ruhi moved through it all with earphones in, music playing softly in her ears, wrapped in a world that belonged only to her.

When she reached the hostel gate, the warden noticed her.

“How was the PTA?”

“Normal.”

A moment passed.

“Your parents?”

Ruhi smiled.

“Why is everyone asking me the same question today?”

“I was only asking.”

“I know.”

She started walking inside.

“What time is dinner?”

“Eight.”

“Okay.”

She took a few steps.

“Ruhi.”

She turned.

“Hmm?”

The warden studied her face.

“You’re unusually quiet today.”

Ruhi raised an eyebrow.

“Do I talk all the time?”

“Yes.”

Ruhi smiled.

“Then I’ve already used up today’s quota.”

The warden laughed.

“Go.”

Ruhi climbed the stairs.

Her laughter remained behind in the corridor.

---

Her room was small.

But it was hers.

And somehow—

that made it enough.

Books were arranged neatly across her desk.

A small table lamp stood beside them.

Two little plants rested near the window.

Photographs decorated the wall.

A narrow bookshelf stood beside her bed.

A life did not have to be large to feel complete.

Sometimes, it only needed a place where everything belonged.

And the one thing that stayed closest to Ruhi—

was her phone.

She kept a private diary on it.

Writing on paper meant someone might find the pages someday.

A phone was different.

Her words could remain hers.

No one would ask questions.

No one would correct her.

No one would ask—

Why?

After her shower, Ruhi sat on the edge of her bed, drying her damp hair with a towel.

She unlocked her phone.

Opened the diary app.

11 August

The date sat alone on the white screen.

She stared at it for a while.

Then began to type.

Today was PTA day.

A second line.

Everyone had someone sitting beside them.

Her fingers stopped.

The blinking cursor waited patiently.

She typed:

I didn’t.

Silence.

Then—

But I’m used to it.

She read the sentence again.

She didn't delete it.

Because sometimes, once a truth has been written down, even erasing it feels like a lie.

She lowered the phone.

That was when—

Ting.

A notification.

Ruhi picked it up again.

BANK ALERT

₹25,000 credited to your account.

Her eyes remained fixed on the screen.

She opened the sender details.

One name appeared.

MOTHER

Ruhi said nothing.

She simply looked at the name.

For a long moment.

Then she closed the banking app.

Opened her diary again.

Her fingers moved across the keyboard.

Mom sent money today.

And stopped.

There was a silence after those words.

A silence she could not fill.

She locked the screen.

---

Ruhi did not hate her parents.

That was not entirely true either.

Some days, she was angry.

Some days—

she felt nothing at all.

Her parents had separated when she was fifteen.

There had been so many things she hadn't understood then.

There were still things she didn't understand now.

Who had been wrong?

Why did a family fall apart one day?

Why did people who once shared the same home eventually learn to live behind different doors?

She had never received all the answers.

She had never asked for them either.

Because sometimes, even when you finally learn the reason behind a wound—

the wound remains.

When she moved into the hostel, people had looked at her with pity.

“Don’t you find it difficult being alone?”

She had smiled then.

“At first.”

“And now?”

Ruhi had looked around her.

At her little room.

Her books.

Her plants.

Her window.

“Now, this is home.”

She hadn't merely said it.

She had believed it.

She didn't have to wait for anyone.

She had to go to school.

Study.

Meet her friends.

Pay her bills.

Take care of herself.

Keep moving.

She had learned all of it.

Far earlier than she should have.

---

The next day.

Lunch break.

Ruhi stood with her friends beneath the pale sunlight spilling through the corridor windows.

Then someone called her name.

“Ruhi.”

She turned.

Aditya.

One of the most noticed boys in school.

Tall.

Confident.

Sports Captain.

The moment her friends saw him, they exchanged knowing looks.

One of them smiled.

“I’m leaving.”

“Me too.”

Ruhi rolled her eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Privacy.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

They laughed and walked away.

Ruhi looked at Aditya.

“Go ahead.”

“Can we talk?”

“We can talk here.”

He smiled.

“Okay.”

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then—

“I like you.”

Ruhi looked at him.

She wasn't surprised.

She didn't laugh either.

“I’m flattered.”

Aditya smiled.

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s not a no either.”

A flicker of hope appeared in his eyes.

Ruhi spoke gently.

“Aditya, you’re a nice person.”

“Thank you.”

“But I don’t want a relationship.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t.”

“That’s not a reason.”

A faint smile crossed her face.

“Sometimes, it is.”

He studied her for a moment.

“Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“Then?”

Ruhi met his eyes.

“I’m just not interested right now.”

He remained silent for a few seconds.

Then nodded.

“Fair enough.”

Ruhi smiled.

“Good.”

He turned to leave.

“Ruhi.”

“Hmm?”

“Friends?”

She held out her hand.

“Of course.”

He shook it.

“Deal.”

Then he walked away.

Her friends returned almost immediately.

“You seriously rejected him?”

“Yes.”

“Him?”

Ruhi gave them a look.

“Who else?”

“The most handsome boy in school!”

Ruhi laughed.

“Just because someone is handsome doesn’t mean I have to marry him.”

They burst out laughing.

Ruhi laughed with them.

It wasn't that love had no place in her life.

She simply knew one thing—

love should arrive at the right time.

With the right person.

Never because someone demanded it.

Never because loneliness made it necessary.

---

That night, the room was lit only by the muted glow of her table lamp.

Ruhi opened her phone again.

Her diary.

A blank screen.

She sat there for a while without typing anything.

Then—

I think I’m becoming too independent.

She read it.

A small laugh escaped her.

Delete.

She tried again.

Maybe I’m not independent.

A pause.

Then another line.

Maybe I just learned not to wait.

She stared at the words.

That was it.

The simplest truth of her life.

She had never learned how to wait.

Because—

too many people she had waited for had never come.

She placed the phone on the table.

Walked towards the window.

Outside, Delhi glittered beneath the night.

Vehicle lights moved along the roads below.

Somewhere in the distance, the long whistle of a train passed through the darkness.

Inside her room, the little table lamp continued to glow.

Ruhi closed the window.

The preparations for the Karnataka trip were nearly complete.

Four days.

A new city.

Her friends.

A train journey.

Laughter.

New memories.

She was excited.

To her, it was nothing more than an ordinary school trip.

But life has a strange habit of hiding its greatest turning points inside the most ordinary days.

Ruhi didn't know it yet—

but when she returned from Karnataka,

she would not be the same girl who had walked alone through the school gates.

Her laughter would carry a different meaning.

Her silence would have a different voice.

And something she was about to witness—

would divide her life into a before and an after.

But that was still waiting for her.

Because before the journey began,

there was one night no one knew about.

One night—

that would change everything.

One night—

when Ruhi Verma would cease to be merely a girl with secrets...

and become a witness.