Three Months Ago
The sun filtered lazily through the dusty canteen windows, casting a golden hue on the bustling university cafeteria. The clatter of trays, the low hum of voices, and the occasional burst of laughter formed the backdrop of their daily routine.
"I swear," Bilqish muttered, poking at her overly spicy curry, "if they serve this watery thing one more time, I'm dropping out. This is a crime against humanity."
Ifra chuckled, stealing a fry from Bilqish's plate. "You say this every other day, and yet here we are—still eating.
"Only because my taste buds are resilient," Bilqish retorted dramatically.
"Anyway, we are going to graduate in a few months. You won't have to eat it then." Ifra said, stealing another fry.
Across from them, Zeeshan leaned back in his chair, watching the two with a fond expression that was masked by a smirk. "You know, for someone who threatens to drop out twice a week, you're surprisingly punctual with your assignments."
Bilqish rolled her eyes. "Because I plan on becoming successful and then opening a café where real food exists. That’s my backup plan."
"I'll invest," Zeeshan offered casually.
Ifra gave him a sideways glance. "Do you even have money to invest, mister backbencher?"
"I might surprise you," he said, reaching for a carton of chocolate milk. He twisted the cap and took a sip before casually continuing, "Or maybe I just believe in the potential of your food revolution."
Their laughter echoed, drawing glances from the nearby tables, but none of them cared. These shared lunches had become a ritual—a quiet anchor in the middle of assignments, exams, and the unspoken struggles that came with being on their own.
They weren’t from families that lined their pockets with privileges. Bilqish, with her orphanage upbringing, wore her independence like armor. Ifra, under the careful watch of her foster parents, often battled with the feeling of not quite fitting in. And Zeeshan, well, no one really knew what he was carrying beneath his charm.
But in these moments, they were just three students surviving, laughing, and clinging to a kind of found family they never spoke aloud about.
❀
Later that evening, the trio sat at their favorite spot—a narrow cement ledge under the neem tree by the library. The city buzzed faintly in the background, but their corner felt protected by silence.
"So," Zeeshan said, his voice soft in the dimming light, "what do you two want after all this? After graduation."
Ifra looked up at the darkening sky, thoughtful. "Peace. I just want... I don’t know, something normal. A small job. A quiet home. Maybe a garden."
Bilqish stretched her legs out, hands behind her head. "I want to travel. See every part of India. Maybe even go abroad. I don’t want to get stuck in one place. I want to feel the world."
Zeeshan nodded. "Makes sense. You both deserve that."
His tone was quiet, unassuming. But his gaze lingered on Ifra a moment too long. She noticed.
She always did.
There was a softness to Zeeshan when he looked at her. A guarded warmth. And though he never crossed any lines, the way he paid attention—remembered the smallest things, like her favorite brand of coffee or how she tied her scarf differently when she was upset—it made Ifra’s chest flutter in confusion.
And perhaps, hope.
❀
The next day, Bilqish and Ifra waited outside the gates of the local fair. The sun had just set, casting a soft pink glow on the skyline.
"He said he's coming, right?" Bilqish asked, checking her phone.
"He better. We didn’t drag ourselves out of bed for nothing," Ifra muttered.
Moments later, Zeeshan appeared, slightly breathless. "Sorry! Professor Shah held me back."
"Ugh, the worst!" Bilqish rolled her eyes, already tugging them toward the entrance. "Let’s go before they close the place."
They wandered the fairgrounds, weaving between booths and laughing at the cheap horror house, buying trinkets, teasing each other over silly games. Ifra clung to a stuffed panda she’d won, gifted by Zeeshan with a proud grin.
"You two should date," Bilqish joked later, licking ice cream as they sat by the edge of a park bench, knowing Ifra's likeness towards Zeeshan.
Zeeshan looked amused. Ifra blushed and quickly looked away.
"Yeah, right," Zeeshan said with a chuckle, brushing off the comment. But his glance toward Ifra lingered. Just a beat longer than necessary.
❀
A few days later, Zeeshan stood behind the college library building, speaking quietly into a burner phone.
"She’s doing okay. Both are. Bilqish went to meet a professor about some design contest. Ifra had a headache but she’s fine. I didn't see any suspicious activity, i think they will be okay or maybe it was just a fluke?"
The voice on the other end said something low. Zeeshan nodded.
"Yes, I understand. I'll keep watching. No, she suspects nothing."
His eyes flicked back toward the campus, where students moved like shadows under lamplight. He ended the call, slipping the phone into his coat pocket.
The mask returned—easy smile, easy charm. The ever-reliable friend.
But beneath the surface, Zeeshan's loyalty lay elsewhere.
❀
A week after the fair, Ifra and Zeeshan sat in the university garden. Bilqish had run off to the library for a book she urgently needed.
"You didn’t tell me you liked reading poetry," Zeeshan said, nodding at the book in Ifra’s hands.
She shrugged. "It helps. Makes things less noisy in my head."
"You have a lot of noise?"
She hesitated. "Don’t we all?"
Zeeshan leaned back, watching her. "Yeah. We do."
There was a pause.
Then, gently, he reached over and adjusted the corner of her dupatta where it had fallen into the flowerbed.
"You deserve peace, Ifra. You know that, right?"
She swallowed.
"I don’t know what I deserve. But I know what I want."
Their eyes met. And though nothing was said, the moment felt like the beginning of something.
Soft. Unspoken. Real.
❀
In the weeks that followed, their friendship carried on as usual—late-night chai runs, shared notes, endless bickering. But a shift had taken root. A new kind of awareness lingered in the spaces between.
Zeeshan never acted on it. He never would. Bilqish, in her whirlwind dreams and sarcasm, never suspected a thing. And Ifra? She said nothing, just smiled more when he was around.
But that was three months ago.
Before the silence. Before the vanishing.
Before everything changed.
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