Chapter 10 (Comma to Continuation)
Two Years Later
The Campus Lawn, Convocation Day
The courtyard was swarming with laughter, awkward gowns, flying caps, and teary-eyed parents.
Selfies were being snapped faster than the canteen served samosas.
But at the edge of it all—away from the crowd—stood Soumya Kapoor, holding two coffee cups and scanning the field.
Then—
“Behind you,” came a familiar voice.
She turned.
There he was.
Rudra Singh Oberoi.
No longer just the college heartthrob. No longer her fake boyfriend.
Not even just her real one.
But her person.
He grinned, his convocation stole hanging loosely over his shoulder. “I almost missed the principal’s speech because my cap kept falling off. Why do they make these things so pointy?”
Soumya handed him his cup. “Because college wants one last laugh at your expense.”
He took a sip. “Still no sugar?”
She shook her head. “Still diabetic-in-training.”
A pause. Familiar. Comfortable.
“Can’t believe it’s over,” she murmured, watching a group of juniors pile into a group hug.
Rudra looked at her.
“It’s not over,” he said.
She turned to him.
He dug into his bag and pulled out a worn piece of paper. A sticky note.
The one she’d once slipped into his poetry book.
“You were made to stand out.
I just hope someone stands with you.”
He folded it gently and placed it in her hand. “I’m still standing.”
She looked down at the note.
Then up at him.
And whispered, “So am I.”
He leaned in—softly, reverently. Not for a kiss. Just his forehead against hers.
“Let’s keep writing, Somu,” he whispered. “Comma after comma.”
She smiled, tears pricking her lashes. “No full stops?”
“Only for the bad chapters.”
They stood there, the world blurring around them—two people who had once been a joke, a plan, a hashtag.
Now?
They were a story.
Not perfect. Not always poetic.
But real.
Rumya.
Forever starting again.
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THE END.
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