Chapter 18: Choosing Without Fear
Morning arrived softly in Bandra, filtered through pale curtains and the distant sound of traffic that never truly slept. The city woke the way it always did—without asking permission, without waiting for anyone to be ready. Inside the apartment, however, time moved slower, still carrying the emotional residue of the night that had shaken them all.
Niddhi stood at the balcony with a mug of coffee warming her palms. The sky was a muted grey, clouds lingering as if undecided about rain. Her phone buzzed in her hand. A notification from college. She sighed, took a final sip, and went inside to get ready.
College days had begun to feel different lately. Less rushed, more reflective. Final year did that to people—it asked questions instead of giving answers.
As she walked out of the campus gates later that afternoon, her mind wandered between possibilities. Masters abroad? A job in Mumbai? Something creative? Something safe? She didn’t know yet. She only knew she didn’t want to rush.
“Niddhi?”
She turned.
Rohan stood a few steps away, helmet tucked under his arm, a tentative smile on his face. He wore a simple blue shirt and jeans, nothing dramatic, nothing forced. Just… present.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Hi.”
“I thought I saw you,” he replied. “Heading home?”
She hesitated for half a second. “Yes.”
“I can drop you, if you want,” he offered gently. “I’m going that way.”
There was no pressure in his tone, no assumption. That was what made her nod.
“Okay.”
The ride was quiet at first. Mumbai roads flowed around them—vendors calling out, autos weaving through traffic, the city humming in its familiar chaos. Rohan drove steadily, not hurried, not careless.
“So,” he said after a while, “how are exams?”
“Done,” she smiled. “Finally.”
“Must feel strange.”
“It does,” she admitted. “Like standing at the edge of something without knowing how deep it is.”
He chuckled softly. “That sounds about right.”
They talked then—about professors, about favorite cafés, about how the city felt different depending on where you stood. Nothing heavy. Nothing promising. Just conversation that felt easy.
When they reached the apartment building, Niddhi removed her helmet and handed it back.
“Thanks,” she said. “For the ride.”
“Anytime,” he replied. “Take care.”
She watched him leave before turning toward the entrance, her thoughts quieter than usual.
Inside the apartment, Suhani sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, earbuds in place. The screen was divided into familiar faces—college friends from Delhi, laughter spilling through speakers, nostalgia wrapped in teasing.
“You’re really doing this?” one of them asked, eyes wide. “PhD at TISS?”
“I think so,” Suhani said softly. “I haven’t submitted the final confirmation yet, but… it feels right.”
“You always were the research type,” another friend smiled. “Quietly ambitious.”
Suhani laughed. “Quietly confused, more like.”
They talked about hostel memories, late-night chai, professors who changed their lives. When the call ended, Suhani closed the laptop slowly, a small smile lingering.
She felt… supported.
Dhruv watched all of this from the doorway, unseen. He had returned from his meeting earlier than planned, choosing to stay back in Mumbai longer than his schedule demanded. On paper, it was because of overlapping reviews and inspections. In truth, it was simpler.
He wasn’t ready to leave.
Not after that night. Not after realizing how fragile distance could be.
That evening, the three of them sat together in the living room. No television. No distractions. Just conversation waiting to happen.
“I need advice,” Suhani said finally, breaking the silence.
Niddhi leaned forward immediately. “Okay. What’s wrong?”
Suhani took a breath. “I’m torn. About the PhD. About work. About everything.”
Niddhi opened her mouth, ready with reassurance, but Dhruv spoke first.
“You don’t have to choose fearfully,” he said calmly.
Both women looked at him.
“If you choose full-time PhD,” he continued, “TISS provides a stipend. It won’t make you rich, but it will give you independence. Stability. Space to focus.”
Suhani listened intently.
“And when you’re done,” he added, “you can return. To the company. Or go anywhere else. Research experience opens doors most people don’t even see.”
“You’d be okay with that?” she asked softly.
He met her gaze. “I want you to choose what grows you. Not what confines you.”
Something in her chest loosened.
Niddhi smiled, glancing between them. “I was going to say the same thing,” she said lightly. “Just with more dramatic encouragement.”
They laughed, the tension easing.
Later that night, Suhani stood by the balcony again, watching the city lights flicker. Dhruv joined her, standing at a respectful distance.
“You’re doing well,” he said quietly.
“So are you,” she replied.
They didn’t say anything more. They didn’t need to.
For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel like a threat.
It felt like a choice.
