A month had passed since Eleanor's grandparents had celebrated sixty years of marriage.
Thirty days.
Thirty days since the grand celebration that had brought two families, several friendships, and a rather unfortunate amount of bickering under one roof.
The flowers had been removed.
The decorations had been packed away.
The photographs had been printed and placed carefully into albums.
The guests had returned to their respective cities.
And life had quietly slipped back into its ordinary rhythm.
But beneath that ordinary rhythm, things had changed.
Some changes were obvious.
Others were so subtle that the people experiencing them hadn't yet realised how deeply they had been affected.
For Pragya, Chennai was no longer simply the city where she had come to pursue her M.Tech.
For Eleanor, Kolkata was no longer merely a place where she happened to work.
And for Eleanor herself, there was one particular person who was becoming increasingly difficult to keep out of her thoughts.
Anubhab.
And somewhere in Chennai, Ethan Rodrigues was doing what Ethan Rodrigues did best.
Terrifying his employees.
The girl who had arrived at IIT Madras a month ago with an overpacked suitcase and a heart full of uncertainty had changed.
Not completely.
She was still homesick.
She still missed Kolkata.
She still called home every single day.
She still complained about mornings.
And she still occasionally stared at old photographs of her family when she was supposed to be studying.
But the fear was gone.
The campus that had once seemed enormous and unfamiliar now felt comfortable.
Familiar.
Almost warm.
She knew her way around.
She knew which corridors led to her department.
She knew which laboratory equipment required extra care.
She knew which professors were terrifying during viva sessions and which ones were more approachable.
She even had a favourite corner in the library.
It was a quiet spot near a large window.
And it was dangerous.
Because once Pragya opened a book there, time ceased to exist.
One afternoon, Bristi had walked into the library looking for her.
She searched the tables.
Nothing.
She checked the cafeteria.
Nothing.
She called Pragya.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
Finally, she found her near the window.
"PRAGYA!"
Pragya looked up.
"Huh?"
"Do you know what time it is?"
Pragya glanced at the clock.
"Five?"
"It's seven-thirty!"
Pragya blinked.
"Already?"
Bristi stared at her.
"You came here at four."
"I know."
"You said you'd read for twenty minutes."
"I did."
"You've been reading for three and a half hours!"
Pragya looked genuinely surprised.
"The book was good."
Bristi sighed.
"Of course it was."
Pragya smiled innocently.
"Did you need something?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Dinner."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
Pragya packed her books.
"Let's go."
Bristi shook her head.
"One day you're going to forget your own name inside a library."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"You once forgot your phone."
"I was reading."
"You left it inside the refrigerator."
Pragya stopped walking.
"That happened once."
"Once too many."
They burst into laughter.
Bristi had become Pragya's anchor on campus.
And then there was Alekhyo.
Their friendship had developed naturally.
There had been no dramatic declaration of becoming friends.
One day they were strangers.
Then classmates.
Then laboratory partners.
Then lunch companions.
And somehow, a few weeks later, Alekhyo had become one of the people Pragya could call without hesitation.
He was also rapidly discovering that being friends with Pragya meant being dragged into situations he hadn't volunteered for.
One evening, the three were sitting in the cafeteria.
Alekhyo looked at Pragya.
"Did you finish the assignment?"
"Yes."
Bristi looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Last night."
Alekhyo frowned.
"You were on the phone with us until midnight."
"Yes."
"You finished the assignment after that?"
"Yes."
"Then when did you sleep?"
Pragya smiled.
"That's classified information."
Bristi groaned.
"She didn't."
Alekhyo looked horrified.
"You didn't sleep?"
"I slept."
"When?"
"Eventually."
"Pragya."
"Why are both of you behaving like my parents?"
"Because someone has to."
She rolled her eyes.
"You two are becoming unbearable."
Alekhyo smiled.
"You're welcome."
The three had developed their own little world.
They studied together.
Ate together.
Complained about professors together.
Celebrated small victories together.
And whenever Pragya became homesick, they somehow managed to pull her out of it.
One evening, she had received a call from Anirban.
After the call ended, she sat silently for a while.
Bristi noticed.
"You miss him?"
Pragya nodded.
"Baba."
Alekhyo quietly pushed a cup of tea toward her.
"Call him again."
"He's probably working."
"Then call him when he's free."
Pragya smiled.
"You know..."
"What?"
"Both of you make Chennai feel less lonely."
Bristi immediately hugged her.
"Don't become emotional. I haven't had dinner yet."
Pragya laughed.
Alekhyo shook his head.
"She's incapable of being sentimental for more than ten seconds."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
And just like that, the heaviness disappeared.
Despite everything, Pragya never allowed a day to pass without calling her family.
Her father remained her first call.
Anubhab usually came next.
And then her friends.
Sometimes she called Niharika and Aarohi together.
Those calls were rarely peaceful.
"PRAGYA!"
"What?"
"YOU FORGOT TO CALL ME YESTERDAY!"
"I was studying."
"That is unacceptable."
Aarohi immediately joined.
"Exactly! I was emotionally abandoned."
"You called me three times."
"Those were missed calls."
"Because I was in class!"
"Excuses."
Niharika gasped dramatically.
"Aarohi, she has changed."
Pragya laughed.
"I have not changed."
"You've become a Chennai girl."
"I'm still Bengali."
"Prove it."
"How?"
"Complain about food."
Pragya immediately started complaining.
The two friends burst into laughter.
And for those few minutes, Chennai disappeared.
She was home again.
While Pragya was slowly building a new life, Ethan Rodrigues had returned completely to his old one.
The softness that had appeared during his grandparents' anniversary was almost invisible now.
Rodrigues Industries was once again ruled by precision.
Punctuality.
Discipline.
Results.
Ethan arrived at the office early.
Usually before most employees.
Sometimes before the office staff had even finished setting everything up.
His black suit became almost a uniform.
Black shirts.
Black trousers.
Black watches.
Black jackets.
Black shoes.
If someone asked him why he wore black so often, his answer never changed.
"I like black."
And that was the end of the discussion.
His employees had learned not to argue.
One morning, an employee entered his office carrying a report.
"Sir, the report is ready."
Ethan looked at it.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
He closed it.
"There are mistakes."
The employee swallowed.
"Sir, they're minor."
Ethan looked up.
"There are no minor mistakes when money and reputation are involved."
"Yes, sir."
"Correct them."
"Yes, sir."
"And bring it back."
"When?"
"Correctly."
The employee nodded.
"Yes, sir."
He left.
Another employee waiting outside whispered,
"How does he find every mistake?"
The first employee whispered back,
"He probably sleeps with a magnifying glass."
A voice came from behind them.
"I heard that."
Both froze.
"Sorry, sir."
Ethan walked past them.
Neither breathed until he disappeared.
Yet the people closest to him knew there was another Ethan.
The grandson who had sat beside his grandparents on their anniversary.
The brother whose voice softened whenever Eleanor called.
The man who could remember exactly how his grandparents liked their tea.
The person who quietly checked whether Eleanor had reached home safely.
That Ethan still existed.
He simply rarely allowed the rest of the world to see him.
Eleanor had returned to Kolkata several weeks ago.
Her work immediately consumed her.
Research schedules.
Field visits.
Reports.
Meetings.
Deadlines.
She remained as dedicated as ever.
She was ambitious.
Focused.
And determined to prove herself.
But there was one problem.
Anubhab Banerjee.
She had promised herself that she would treat him exactly as she always had.
Her senior.
Her friend.
Her team lead.
Nothing more.
She had told herself that repeatedly.
It hadn't worked.
If anything, her feelings had grown stronger.
It wasn't one grand gesture.
That was the problem.
It was the little things.
The details.
One afternoon, Eleanor arrived at the research site looking exhausted.
Anubhab glanced at her.
"You didn't sleep properly."
She blinked.
"How did you know?"
"You're making mistakes you normally don't make."
She smiled awkwardly.
"It's nothing."
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
He looked at her.
She sighed.
"No."
"I knew it."
He handed her a packed meal.
"Eat."
"You brought this for me?"
"You can't work properly on an empty stomach."
She smiled.
"Thank you."
He simply nodded and returned to his work.
For him, it was nothing.
For Eleanor, it meant everything.
Another day, she had been struggling with a geological analysis.
She stared at the data for nearly an hour.
Anubhab walked over.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't figure this out."
"Show me."
He studied her work.
Then calmly explained the problem.
He never made her feel foolish.
Never mocked her.
Never made her feel inferior.
Instead, he patiently explained what she had missed.
When she finally understood, her face lit up.
"Oh!"
Anubhab smiled.
"See?"
"You make everything look easy."
"It isn't easy."
"Then how do you do it?"
"Practice."
She smiled.
"I want to be that good someday."
"You will be."
She looked at him.
"You really think so?"
"Yes."
Just one word.
But she carried it with her for the rest of the day.
Meeting Anirban had changed something else.
Eleanor had expected him to be intimidating.
Instead, he had welcomed her.
Completely.
Without hesitation.
The first time she visited the Banerjee home, she had stood awkwardly near the doorway.
Anirban had smiled.
"Why are you standing there?"
"I wasn't sure whether I should come in."
"This is a house, not a courtroom."
She laughed.
"Come inside."
From that day, things became easier.
He began asking about her work.
He listened to her stories.
He remembered details.
And he is worried.
Sometimes unnecessarily.
One evening, Eleanor had mentioned that she would be working late.
Anirban frowned.
"How late?"
"Maybe ten."
"Ten?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Fieldwork."
"You'll eat before you leave."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He nodded.
Then paused.
"And call when you reach home."
Eleanor smiled.
"Yes, Uncle."
He looked at her for a moment.
"Eleanor."
"Yes?"
"You know you can come here whenever you want."
She became quiet.
"Thank you."
"You don't need permission."
She nodded.
And that simple statement touched her deeply.
Because she had never had a father tell her that.
Eleanor gradually became comfortable around Anirban.
She began visiting more often.
Sometimes she stayed for dinner.
Sometimes she simply stopped by for tea.
Sometimes she sat in the living room while Anirban discussed hospital stories.
And sometimes they argued.
"You work too much."
"So do you."
"I am a surgeon."
"And I am a geologist."
"That doesn't mean you should forget to eat."
"You do the same."
Anirban sighed.
"You've become just like my daughter."
Eleanor smiled.
"Pragya would be offended."
"She'll survive."
She laughed.
And somewhere along the way, without either of them consciously deciding it, their relationship became something more than friendship.
It became family.
Eleanor had never had a father.
But somehow, in Kolkata, she had found someone who made her feel like she had one.
Meeting Pragya's friends had been another adventure.
Niharika had welcomed her immediately.
Aarohi had interrogated her.
Archismita had quietly observed her.
Then Aarohi had finally declared,
"You're approved."
Eleanor blinked.
"Approved for what?"
"To join us."
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
Niharika nodded.
"Absolutely not."
Archismita smiled.
"Welcome."
Eleanor laughed.
And just like that, she became part of their group.
The group chats became louder.
The calls became longer.
The teasing became relentless.
And Pragya couldn't have been happier.
"My family is expanding."
Aarohi immediately corrected her.
"Your family was already dysfunctional."
"Now it's more dysfunctional."
"Better."
Thursday was relatively peaceful.
Eleanor had finished most of her work when her phone rang.
It was her grandmother.
She smiled and answered.
"Hello, Granny."
"What are you doing?"
"Working."
"You're always working."
"So are you."
"Don't argue with me."
Eleanor laughed.
"What happened?"
"I want to invite Pragya for lunch."
Eleanor smiled.
"Sunday?"
"Yes."
"She'll come."
"Tell her to bring her friends."
"I'm sure she will."
"I already invited her."
"Oh."
"And she said she'll bring Alekhyo."
Eleanor smiled.
"That's nice."
"Bristi can't come."
"Why?"
"She has to visit her paternal aunt in Mangalore."
"Ah."
"Eleanor."
"Yes?"
"You come too."
"I can't"
"Of course."
"And Ethan."
Eleanor laughed.
"Good luck."
Her grandmother chuckled.
"I haven't told him Pragya is coming."
Eleanor immediately understood.
"Oh."
"He'll be surprised."
"He'll pretend he isn't."
"He'll argue with her."
"He definitely will."
Both women laughed.
That evening, Eleanor's grandmother called Ethan.
"Ethan
Meanwhile, Pragya was sitting in her hostel room on Thursday evening.
Her phone was on speaker.
Eleanor's grandmother had just reminded her about Sunday.
"I'll definitely come,Granny."
"Bring your friend."
"Alekhyo?"
"Yes."
"Done."
"Bristi?"
"She can't come. She's going to Mangalore."
"Oh, that's fine."
Pragya smiled.
"Granny, I'll come."
"Good."
After the call ended, Alekhyo looked at her.
"Who was that?"
"Eleanor's grandmother."
"Why?"
"Lunch on Sunday."
"With you?"
"With us."
Alekhyo pointed at himself.
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Why me?"
"Because you're my friend."
He smiled.
"Okay."
Pragya looked at him suspiciously.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
"Nothing."
"You're planning something."
"I'm not."
"You are."
He laughed.
"You've become paranoid."
"Living with Bristi has consequences."
And so the plan was set.
Sunday.
Lunch at Eleanor's grandparents' home.
Pragya.
Alekhyo.
Eleanor's grandparents.
And Ethan.
Only one person didn't know the entire guest list.
Ethan.
And perhaps that was for the best.
Because if Ethan knew Pragya was coming, he might suddenly remember an important business meeting.
If Pragya knew Ethan was coming, she might suddenly develop a mysterious academic emergency.
And if their families knew what would happen when those two met again—
they probably would have bought extra chairs.
Because one thing was certain.
Their next meeting was not going to be peaceful.
Not even remotely.
And somewhere between Kolkata and Chennai, two people who had started as complete strangers were slowly becoming part of the same story.
Neither Pragya nor Ethan knew it yet.
But their constant arguments were only the beginning.
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