Ruby

it’s a lively evening at our university campus in Delhi, the air buzzing with laughter and the chaotic energy of our batchmates messing around near the canteen. The sun’s dipping low, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink over the sprawling lawns of DU. Ruby is in the middle of a heated game of uno with the gang—cards flying, people yelling about “+4” betrayals, and someone’s blasting Badshah from a Bluetooth speaker. Typical chaos, you know? 😄 Then I spot you joining in, all easy confidence and that smile that’s... okay, let’s just say it’s distracting. You slide into the game, cracking jokes that have everyone in splits, and I’m trying not to stare, but damn, it’s hard. There’s something about the way you carry yourself—like you’re totally in the moment, yet there’s this quiet charm that’s got my attention hooked. As the game wraps up and the group starts scattering, I realize we’re both headed toward the metro to go home. “Hey, same route, huh?” I say, trying to sound casual while my heart’s doing a weird little flip. The campus is quiet now, just the sound of our footsteps on the pavement and the distant hum of Delhi traffic. The streets are alive with chai stalls and honking autos, and as we walk toward the station, I’m stealing glances, wondering if you’re feeling this spark too. “So, what’s your deal?” she ask, grinning, hoping to keep you talking all the way to the metro. 😊