Two Different Worlds

Part 1: Inbox (Un)Expected

The door slammed behind her with a dull thud, and the flat's familiar scent - half lavender candle, half abandoned laundry - hit her like a comfort punch.

Srushti dropped her tote, kicked off her shoes, and dramatically flopped onto the half-broken IKEA couch. "Main officially dead hoon, guys. Period. Body gone, aur spirit bhi." (I am officially dead, guys. Period. Body gone, and my spirit too)

Shifa's voice came from the kitchen: "Yaar at least marne se pehle bata deti - I'd have claimed your Bluetooth speaker." (Dude, you should have told me before you died, at least)

"Babe, don't touch my speaker," Srushti muttered, eyes closed, head tilted back like a tragic heroine. "I died a legend. Let my JBL rest with me."

Ishani popped her head out of the shared bedroom, holding a towel in one hand and a bottle in the other. "Someone definitely used my Moroccan serum. And I know it wasn't Srushti because she still lives in conditioner-poverty."

Srushti cracked one eye open. "Valid. But also, rude."

"You're always mentally dying," Ishani deadpanned.

"And you're always emotionally dramatic," Srushti shot back, dragging herself upright. "I'm seriously wondering if engineering was a mistake."

"Abhi realize kiya?" (Realized just now?) Shifa blinked.

"I mean, I survived Algorithms, but today..." she dropped her voice theatrically, "Professor D'mello called me 'PR princess.' Like it was an insult."

Shifa choked on her tea.

"Oh my god, why?" Ishani snorted.

"Because I told him I couldn't do extra lab hours Friday evening. I had to coordinate a digital drop for a brand collab. Aur maine casually bola ki I manage small campaigns now. He went all 'College isn't your backup plan' on me." (And I casually said that). She mimicked his nasal whine with perfect accuracy.

Shifa perched beside her. "Yaar, ek baat bolun? You're actually doing great. Most people here can't even finish a Google Form without crying." (Let me tell you something)

Ishani sat cross-legged on the carpet, aggressively massaging her serum into her scalp. "Also, that professor has the fashion sense of a soggy papad. Why are we listening to him?"

Srushti let out a tired laugh. "Thanks. But like... kabhi kabhi lagta hai I'm just juggling vibes, y'know? Like all these side gigs and LinkedIn posts and reels - kya ho raha hai usse? I'm not even sure." (Sometimes I feel like I'm just juggling vibes, y'know? Like all these side gigs and LinkedIn posts and reels - What's gonna happen with that? I'm not even sure)

The flat fell into a rare moment of silence - the kind that felt like shared warmth, not awkwardness. Shifa reached over and passed her the other cup of tea she'd made. "Tu banegi kuch bada. I don't know what, but it'll be mad." (You will become something big)

Srushti smiled, soft and genuine, this time. "Hope so."

The flat's buzzing tube light flickered once, as if agreeing.

............................................................

The steam rising from the chipped ceramic cup fogged her glasses for a second. Srushti pushed them up, balanced her laptop on one knee, and opened her email.

"Bas ek acceptance mail chahiye," she muttered, fingers crossing instinctively. (I just need one acceptance email.)

"Babe, stop begging the void," Shifa said without looking up from her phone. "It's not cute."