Ten months later, the empty seat at the front of the lecture hall still felt like a wound that hadn’t closed.
Ahana had thrown herself into everything Delhi had to offer since — a summer internship at a small finance firm in Nehru Place, late nights at the library, a growing stack of certificates she’d once have shown nobody, because now, finally, there was a small, stubborn part of her that wanted to be seen. She sat in the college computer lab, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as the first-year results were finally uploaded.
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