Sampark met Shweta a few months ago. It wasn't planned. One of those things that just happens. A mutual friend was the link. Not even a friend, really - more of a work colleague. His name was Tanmay.

Sampark worked in IT. So did Tanmay. Different projects, same department. They crossed paths often - team meetings, office events, the usual stuff. But the friendship didn't start there. It started when Sampark helped Tanmay with a tough assignment. A quiet favor, but it meant something. Tanmay didn't forget.

After that, Tanmay and his girlfriend, Astha, started including Sampark in everything. Lunches, dinners, movies. Sampark wasn't used to it. When he first joined the company, he always ate alone in the cafeteria. Kept to himself. Tanmay and Astha noticed. They weren't the type to pity anyone, but they reached out anyway. Because they liked him.

One day, Astha invited him to a movie. Said it was casual. No pressure. Just a weekend thing with friends. She also invited someone else - her friend Shweta. Sampark didn't know that part. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have gone. But the movie sounded good, so he said yes.

They met at the theater. Tanmay introduced him to Shweta. A quick hello. Nothing more. Afterward, Tanmay and Astha kept inviting him to things. Most of the time, he said no. Always had an excuse. But then came Astha's birthday. A gathering at their place. Sampark couldn't say no this time. Not after how nice they'd been.

The party was small. Ten, fifteen people. Shweta was there too. It was the second time he'd seen her. Another hello. Another quick exchange. Nothing memorable.

The third time was a dinner. A smaller group this time - just Tanmay, Astha, Shweta, and a couple of others Sampark didn't know. He couldn't dodge this one. He went out of courtesy. After all, how many excuses can a man make before it gets awkward?

Dinner was fine. Casual. The conversation flowed. This time, Sampark and Shweta actually talked. Not just small talk. Something real. At the end, the group split the bill. Sampark handled it for everyone. Easier that way. They'd pay him back later. Google Pay.

He gave them his number. Shweta messaged him the next day. Said she'd sent her share. That's how it started. A quick text about money. Then a few casual messages after that. Nothing serious. But Tanmay and Astha noticed. They always noticed everything.

Things were moving forward. Slowly, but forward. Texts turned into calls. Not many, and not long. Boundaries stayed in place. Sampark made sure of that. He was polite. Quiet. Always kept his distance. Not rude, just careful.

He wasn't always like this. Once, he'd been the opposite. Full of life. Easygoing. The guy who could make anyone laugh. But life had happened. Hardships. Lessons. The kind that sticks. They'd shaped him into someone else. Someone cautious. Distant. He didn't trust easily now. Didn't let people in. Solitude was safer. Work, gym, boxing, sketching, books - those were his world now. His hobbies. His friends. Most people assumed he'd always been like this. They had no idea.

Shweta, though, was different. She kept trying. Indirect invitations. Subtle hints. Dates disguised as casual plans. Sampark noticed, but he wasn't sure how to respond. Most of the time, he dodged them. Made excuses. Until one day, he couldn't.

That day, he said yes.

She picked Chandni Chowk. Bustling. Crowded. Famous for its food, its markets, its chaos. They wandered for an hour, weaving through stalls and street vendors. Clothes, jewelry, the smell of spices in the air. Shweta seemed off. Something in her expression. Troubled. Maybe work, maybe family. Sampark noticed, but he didn't ask. It wasn't his place.

They stopped at a food stall. Sat down. Ordered chicken kebabs, chapatis, lassi, and gulab jamun for dessert. They ate in silence at first, both hungry from the walk. But Shweta's expression didn't change. That same distant look. Something was bothering her.

Halfway through the meal, she spoke.

"Do you know any travel agents?"

Sampark looked up. "No. Not really. Why do you ask?"

Shweta's tone sharpened. "Why would anyone ask about a travel agent, Sampark? Can't you figure it out?"

The edge in her voice caught him off guard. He let it slide. "Who's traveling?"

"Why? Does it matter?"

Her tone was harsher now. Sharper. Sampark paused but stayed calm. "Sorry, I don't know any. But I could ask someone."

Shweta leaned forward. "Ask who, Sampark? You're new here. You've only been in this city a few months. You don't know anyone except Tanmay and Astha. So tell me - how exactly are you going to find a travel agent?"

Her voice rose. Heads turned.

Sampark froze. Her words hit him like a gut punch. His face drained of emotion. He felt it coming - memories rushing in, things he'd buried deep. His past, breaking through. For a moment, he couldn't move. Couldn't think.

Shweta noticed, but too late.

Sampark sat there, staring at his plate. The dessert sat untouched. The gulab jamun glistened under the stall lights, but he wasn't hungry anymore.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Finally, he stood up. His voice was flat. Empty.

"I'm going to the reception," he said. "Be back shortly."

And then he walked away.

When he came back, Shweta was already standing. Waiting for him. She looked uncomfortable. Guilty. She knew what she'd done. Knew it wasn't fair.

Sampark saw it in her eyes. She wanted to apologize. But he didn't want the scene to drag out. He tried to calm things down, smooth it over. On the surface, it worked. He kept his tone steady, his words polite. But his face gave him away. Anyone could see it. The tension, the hurt. Shweta saw it too. And it made her feel worse.

They left without saying much. Heading for the metro. The walk was long. And quiet. Too quiet. Shweta tried a few times to start a conversation, but she could tell Sampark wasn't ready. He wasn't angry exactly. But something about him - his silence, his body language - felt heavy. Like he was carrying something.

At the station, the train arrived. They boarded without a word. Shweta glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, through the window. Still as a statue. His reflection in the glass didn't show much. No emotion. But she knew better. He was upset.

The train pulled into their destination. They got off. Walked side by side toward her place. Sampark didn't say anything. Neither did Shweta, not until they reached her door.

"Sampark," she said. "You haven't spoken since we left Chandni Chowk." She hesitated. "I'm really sorry. About earlier. I didn't mean for it to happen. I know you're mad."

He stood there for a second. Thinking. Then he shook his head, like he was pushing it all away. Bottling it up.

"It's alright," he said. "We're good."

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yes."

Shweta paused. She wanted to believe him, but she didn't. Not completely.

"Would you like to come up? Have some tea?" she offered.

Sampark shook his head again, this time politely. "No, it's fine. I should be going. Early day tomorrow. Thanks, though."

His tone was calm. Too calm. Like nothing had happened. But Shweta wasn't buying it. She could feel him pulling back, dodging the situation. And that only made her feel worse.

They said their goodbyes. Sampark turned and walked away. His steps steady, but his mind anything but. Shweta stood there, watching him go, the weight of her words hanging between them.