A year of college. A year of my life. And yet, not much had changed. I had thought—no, I had convinced myself—that I would grow out of my shell, that this new chapter of my life would be a catalyst for transformation. But oh, how terribly wrong I was.
My college life so far had been... underwhelming at best.
I still remember the day of introductions. It haunts me even now. Each new student was asked to step up, share a bit about themselves, and, of course, make a memorable impression. My so-called “friends”—the ones who had spoken to me for barely five days and then disappeared—decided I needed a “push” of encouragement. Literally. They shoved me to the front of the room, leaving me to stammer, stumble, and completely humiliate myself in front of everyone.
And, to top it off? I started crying. Right there, in front of everyone. Tears, sniffles, the works. So pathetic.
The embarrassment still stings, though less than it could have—it’s a small mercy that I’m in a girl’s college. At least that spared me the deeper agony of having boys witness my tragic moment.
Since then, I’d made some progress. A little. I had done reasonably well in both semester exams. Managed an okay-ish GPA. And—believe it or not—made two close friends. Ashi and Jeevanshi. Granted, my social circle isn’t huge, but hey, it's something. I’ve even forced myself to interact with most of the girls in class, setting my comfort aside and pretending to be more approachable than I actually am.
Right now, though? I was regretting that decision. Because here I was, sitting in the exhibition hall of my college with Ashi and Jeevanshi glaring at me like I’d just committed the gravest sin known to womankind.
“Fifth guy! SHIVANYA!” Ashi exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Five guys, girl!” Jeevanshi added for emphasis, smacking the table for effect. “Are you insane? We introduced you to five perfectly fine guys—and what do you do? Ghost them all after one chat! One!”
Their voices drew a few curious glances, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wishing I could vanish into thin air. All I could manage in response was an awkward smile.
“What was I supposed to do…?” I muttered, fiddling with the hem of my top. “I felt… nervous.”
Both of them groaned in unison, leaning back as if the weight of my excuses was physically exhausting them.
“Nervous?” Ashi scoffed. “Aren’t you the same Shivanya who said she wanted a boyfriend? Wasn’t it your big plan to ‘experience love’ in college?”
“And now, we’re bending over backward to make it happen, but you go and ghost every single guy!” Jeevanshi chimed in, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. “Do you even want a boyfriend, or are we wasting our time?”
I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. I knew they were trying to help, but the thought of talking to strangers—much less pursuing something romantic—terrified me.
“It’s just…” I started hesitantly, trying to explain, “I don’t know how to talk to them. The moment they start asking questions, my mind goes blank. And then I get awkward. Really awkward.”
Jeevanshi rolled her eyes, while Ashi leaned forward, her tone softening slightly. “Shivanya, listen. Awkwardness is fine. Nervousness is fine. But nothing’s going to happen unless you try. You have to stop overthinking everything.”
“Exactly,” Jeevanshi agreed. “No one’s expecting you to marry the guy after one chat. Just... respond, give it a shot, and see where it goes.”
Their words were well-intentioned, but easier said than done. I nodded reluctantly, not wanting to argue further. They exchanged a glance and sighed, likely sensing my hesitation. To my relief, they seemed to let the topic drop.
Or so I thought.
“Idea!” Ashi exclaimed suddenly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Uh-oh. That tone never ended well for me.
“What now?” Jeevanshi asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Why doesn’t Shivanya try online dating?” Ashi suggested, grinning like she’d just discovered the key to all my problems.
I groaned audibly, burying my face in my hands. Of course. Why was I even surprised? “Ashi, no. Absolutely not,” I said, my voice muffled against my palms.
“Oh, come on!” she urged. “It’s modern, it’s convenient, and you don’t even have to see the guy until you’re comfortable. It’s literally perfect for you.”
Before I could respond, Jeevanshi interjected with a scoff. “Ashi, are you mad? Online dating? Really? You’re setting her up for disaster.”
“What’s so disastrous about it?” Ashi retorted, crossing her arms defensively.
“Everything!” Jeevanshi shot back, rolling her eyes. “Fake profiles, creepy guys, weird pickup lines—do I need to go on? Half those apps are bekaar nonsense, and the other half are full of lunatics.”
“Oh, please.” Ashi waved her off, turning back to me with a conspiratorial smile. “Listen, Shivanya, don’t let her scare you. You just need to pick the right app. Something reputable, like SwipeVerse or LoveConnect. People are actually serious there.”
“Serious about what?” Jeevanshi quipped. “Scamming, maybe. Or ghosting, ironically enough.”
I let out another groan, feeling a headache forming from their bickering. “Guys, can we not?” I pleaded weakly.
“No, no! Listen to me!” Ashi persisted, ignoring my protests. “Think about it, Shivanya. Online dating gives you total control. You swipe, you choose, and you talk only when you feel like it. Plus, it’s anonymous. If a guy creeps you out, just block him and move on!”
“Yeah, move on… to the next creep,” Jeevanshi muttered under her breath.
“Shut up, Jeev!” Ashi snapped, turning back to me with a determined look. “Trust me, Shivanya. Just give it one try. Who knows? You might actually meet someone amazing!”
“And who’s amazing enough to sweep her off her feet on a dating app, huh?” Jeevanshi countered. “Prince Charming with a verified profile and a blue tick?”
“I don’t know! Maybe!” Ashi fired back, visibly annoyed.
I sat there, caught between their verbal tug-of-war, wishing I could disappear. Their intentions might have been good, but the thought of putting myself out there—online, no less—felt like climbing a mountain I wasn’t ready for.
Still, Ashi’s words lingered. Could it really be that simple? Swiping on a screen to find… something? Maybe even someone?
I sighed inwardly, glancing between them as they continued to bicker. As ridiculous as the idea sounded, a part of me wondered if it was worth a shot.
What’s the worst that could happen?
“Guys, let’s just... go. It’s class time,” I finally said, hoping to divert the topic.
They both groaned dramatically at the mere mention of studying, shooting me exaggeratedly disgusted looks as though I’d said something offensive.
“Really? Class? Right now?” Ashi asked, raising a brow in disbelief.
I shook my head with a chuckle. “Yes, Ashi. Class. You know, the reason we’re here?”
“Whose class is it, though?” Jeevanshi asked skeptically.
Pulling my phone out, I checked the timetable on my home screen. The moment I saw the name, I groaned audibly.
“What? Who is it?” they both asked in unison.
Giving them a disappointed look, I simply mouthed the name.
Their horrified expressions mirrored my own as they exchanged dramatic glances. “Oh no, not him! Ugh! That angrez role-play professor?!”
I couldn’t hold it in—I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach. “Yeah, him.”
They weren’t wrong, though. Our professor spoke in an accent that no one could quite figure out. It wasn’t British, definitely wasn’t American, and wasn’t anywhere near Australian either. Honestly, it sounded like he’d invented it himself.
But the accent wasn’t the worst part. It was him. He’d taken so many days off, leaving us all scrambling as exams loomed closer. And as if his snail-like teaching speed wasn’t bad enough, his explanations left us more confused than when we started.
Still, we dragged ourselves up from the bench with heavy sighs and made our way to the classroom. Our enthusiasm evaporated entirely as we trudged through the hallway, all three of us suddenly gloomy.
We shuffled into the classroom and deliberately chose the last row of seats—an unspoken agreement to ignore the lecture as much as possible.
As the professor started his monotone lesson, my attention quickly drifted elsewhere. My gaze wandered, but my thoughts went inward.
I wasn’t someone beautiful—at least, that’s what I thought. It wasn’t that I’d never been asked out before, but my luck had always been bad. The guys who did approach me were either immature or downright annoying.
I came from a modest family where every expense was calculated, and unnecessary spending was frowned upon. Yet here I was, studying in one of India’s best colleges. Prestigious? Absolutely. Comforting? Not really.
The college was a different world altogether—a space dominated by students who carried themselves with a class and sophistication I couldn’t even dream of. Around 80% of the girls belonged to rich families. Their flawless makeup, branded clothes, and expensive accessories stood in stark contrast to my modest existence.
Even though the college was government-run, known for merit, the unspoken divide was always there. I often felt like I didn’t belong. Compared to them, I felt so plain. So... ordinary.
A pang of insecurity tugged at my heart. The fashion, the conversations, the way they carried themselves—it all made me feel like I was constantly lagging behind. Like I didn’t belong in this glittering crowd, like I was stuck in an unending race where I couldn't even reach the starting line.
Even Jeevanshi and Ashi, with their perfectly coordinated outfits and unmistakable confidence, were part of that polished world. They came from families that could easily afford what I only dreamed of. Yet, despite the glaring differences in our lives, they chose to be my friends, and for that, I was endlessly grateful.
Some girls in our class were the epitome of snobbery—they didn’t just ignore middle-class girls like me, they acted as though we didn’t even exist. Their well-practiced smiles were reserved only for those they deemed "worthy." A simple smile from them, acknowledging someone outside their circle, was rarer than spotting a shooting star in Delhi's smog-filled skies.
But Jeevanshi and Ashi? They were different. They didn’t care where I came from or how much I had in my wallet. They talked to me, laughed with me, and stood by me as if those invisible boundaries didn’t exist. It wasn’t just kindness—it was genuine friendship, a rare treasure in a world obsessed with appearances.
They were my anchor, pulling me back whenever I got too caught up in overthinking or when the invisible weight of my insecurities became too heavy.
“Stop spacing out, Shivanya,” Jeevanshi snapped her fingers in front of my face, her brow raised playfully.
“Thinking about life or a crush we don’t know about?” Ashi teased, winking at me.
Rolling my eyes, I fought back a smile. “Neither. Just… random thoughts.”
“Random thoughts? Oho, mysterious!” Jeevanshi said dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Share with the class, Shivanya. Spill the tea!”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not happening.”
They both groaned but let it slide. I loved how they never pushed too hard, never demanded too much. They were just… there. And somehow, their presence was enough to make me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in this sea of perfection.
Still, no matter how much I valued their friendship, a small, insecure voice whispered in the back of my mind: What if they get tired of me? What if one day, I’m too much of a burden for even them to carry?
The day somehow dragged to an end, and with it, college was finally over. Walking out of the campus gates, I exhaled a small sigh of relief. My house wasn’t far—close enough to commute daily, which meant I didn’t have to deal with the hassle of hostels or PGs. But the best part? The Delhi Metro.
Weird as it sounded, the Metro felt like my comfort zone. Something about the hum of the train, the faint whooshing as it approached, and the subdued buzz of passengers helped me momentarily forget all the chaos in my mind.
As I reached the station near college, I stopped instinctively in front of the women’s coach. My safety zone, my default choice. But for some reason, today felt different.
I hesitated, my feet shifting slightly, before turning away.
No more women’s coach.
Not because I had any great desire to be around guys—frankly, they were ew in my book—but because avoiding them wasn’t the solution. For how long could I keep my distance? I didn’t want to develop arrhenphobia, especially in a world where avoiding them altogether wasn’t practical.
Steeling myself, I stepped into the general coach. It felt like I was pushing myself straight into a battle zone.
As soon as I found a corner to stand in, my anxiety spiked. It felt like all eyes were on me, though in reality, nobody cared. My pulse quickened, my hands gripping my phone tightly as though it could shield me from the weight of being seen. I glued my eyes to the screen, scrolling through Instagram in a desperate attempt to distract myself.
The train was slightly crowded at first, but as the stations passed, people started filing out, and soon, a seat near me opened up. My gaze darted toward it, and for a second, I considered going over.
But no.
My feet felt stuck to the floor, rooted by an irrational fear. What if someone else got there first, leaving me awkwardly lingering? Or worse, What if I tripped on the way? The thought of people silently judging me was enough to keep me glued to the spot. So, instead, I stayed in my little corner, feigning intense interest in my phone.
While scrolling aimlessly, a reel popped up on my feed. A dating app advertisement. As the upbeat jingle played, Ashi's voice echoed in the back of my head.
"Why don't you try online dating?"
I stared at the screen, the suggestion replaying over and over in my mind. Should I? Could I? My finger hovered over the App Store icon as doubt gnawed at me.
Am I really ready to put myself out there?
Before I could decide, the announcer’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I was at my stop. Quickly slipping my phone into my pocket, I exited the train and began the short 10-minute walk home.
The route from the station to my house was lined with tall trees and old lampposts, a rare combination of nature and urban design that added a soothing charm to the area. I lived in a small yet homely house in Delhi's one of the upscale area.
The house we lived in wasn’t extravagant, but it was home. It had two story building, three bedrooms on the ground floor, two on the first floor and the then the terrace, a small but functional kitchen, and a modest living room. The decor was simple, nothing over the top—beige walls, a dining table, and a comfortable couch that had seen better days.
The people, the neighborhood, were so nice and pretty. But it wasn’t just the people. The area itself was beautiful. The streets were wide and clean, lined with towering gulmohar and neem trees that cast soothing shade even during the unforgiving summers. Every few blocks, there were neatly trimmed parks with jogging tracks, vibrant flowerbeds, and swings for kids. And then there were the small indulgences—a cozy corner café where the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered, or boutique shops with elegant displays that seemed to invite you in.
I lived along with my father and mother. I have one sister, but she didn’t live with us anymore. My elder sister was a journalist based in Mumbai. She had made a name for herself and earned enough to afford a lifestyle that many dreamed of, though she was rich, I barely dared to ask her for money. She was living proof of what hard work could achieve, and her stories of balancing deadlines with high-stakes interviews always inspired me.
As I stepped into my home, the warmth of familiarity washed over me. The rich aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble in anticipation. A soft hum of contentment escaped my lips as I hurriedly kicked off my shoes, tossed my handbag onto the chair, and made a beeline for the sink to wash my hands.
“Smells amazing!” I called out, practically sprinting to the kitchen, my heart already set on the feast awaiting me.
Dinner felt like a warm hug—homemade, comforting, and exactly what I needed after a long day of overthinking and self-doubt. After eating to my heart’s content, I cleared the table and retreated to my room for a short study session. But no matter how much I tried to concentrate, my thoughts kept circling back to that app and the nagging voice in my head: Why not give it a try?
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, phone in hand, I took a deep breath. Okay, Shivanya, let’s do this. It’s not a big deal. Just an app. But my hands were sweaty, and my heart was racing as I navigated to the App Store and hit “Download.” This was completely out of my comfort zone, but wasn’t that the point?
When the app finally downloaded, I hesitated for a moment before opening it. It asked me to complete my profile—a seemingly simple task that felt monumental. With a sigh, I began filling in the details, trying my best to sound like myself without giving away too much.
Then came the dreaded part: uploading photos and writing a bio. I groaned aloud. I had no clue how to describe myself, and the thought of posting pictures online made my stomach twist. But once again, I pushed through the hesitation, selecting photos that didn’t fully reveal my face yet gave an idea of how I looked. They were unfiltered, simple, and raw—just me. To add a little personality, I added small captions that reflected my quirks and interests.
Finally, I was done. I leaned back with a sigh of relief, staring at the screen. The app’s colorful interface popped to life, and I began browsing through profiles.
What I saw left me stunned.
These weren’t the jobless or aimless guys I’d imagined. No, the profiles screamed out of my league. Models with chiseled jaws, men studying abroad at Ivy League universities, and professionals climbing the corporate ladder—each profile seemed more intimidating than the last.
My insecurity immediately kicked in. I don’t belong here. What am I even thinking? With a heavy heart, I swiped past all of them, not daring to engage.
Even this app was mocking me, showing me lives I couldn’t imagine being a part of. I closed the app and tossed my phone onto the pillow with a sigh. Dating could wait, at least for tonight.
Curling under my warm sheets, I stared at the ceiling for a moment, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. But soon, the coziness of my bed lulled me into a dreamless sleep, my phone buzzing softly in the background with notifications I didn’t bother to check.
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