To Forget and Be Forgotten

Kavitha left the staff room with her professor's words still echoing in her mind.

If there are any issues weighing on you, feel free to talk. It affects your studies.

She had given a small nod and walked away, chest tight.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of purpose. After her classes she joined two trusted colleagues and traveled by car to the outskirts of Madras. In a small dimly lit room filled with earnest faces she taught basic literacy to a group of Dalit men and women. Their hunger for learning always moved her. For those two hours she almost forgot the weight she carried.

The journey back was harder.

Her colleagues had left earlier. She had no choice but to take a rickshaw. Halfway home it groaned to a stop. The driver apologized profusely. There was nothing he could do.

Kavitha paid him and began walking.

The sun had already set. The road grew darker - sparse trees, scattered houses, the particular quiet of a street that hadn't fully decided whether it was safe or not. Her feet ached. Her mind was more exhausted than her body.

Then she heard it.

Soft footsteps behind her.

She didn't look back. Her pace quickened. The footsteps matched her speed exactly - not hurrying, just keeping pace, which was somehow worse than if they had rushed.

Her heart was loud in her ears now.

She calculated the distance to the nearest apartment complex. Two minutes at this pace. Less if she ran. She was deciding whether running would make things worse when a rough hand closed around her wrist from behind.

She spun.

"Miss Raman"

The voice came from several meters back — sharp, clear, carrying the particular authority of someone who didn't need to raise it to be heard.

Seren stood under the weak light of a street lamp. Tall. Completely still. Looking not at Kavitha but at the man between them with the calm expression of someone who had already assessed the situation and found it uninteresting.

The man froze.

He looked between them once. Then he cursed under his breath - something low and ugly - and turned and disappeared into the darkness without another word.

Kavitha's legs felt unreliable beneath her.

Seren crossed the remaining distance and stopped close enough that her voice didn't need to carry.

"What were you doing out this late?"

Kavitha opened her mouth. What came out was not the composed answer she intended — something about the literacy class, about her colleagues leaving early, about the rickshaw. What came out instead was a sound that wasn't quite words because the fear of what could have happened had finally caught up with what had almost happened and her hands were shaking before she could stop them.

Seren looked at her hands.

Something in her expression shifted - not dramatically, just a slight easing of the careful distance she usually maintained.

"Come," she said quietly. "I'll walk you home."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't quite an order either. Just a statement of what was going to happen next delivered in a tone that made refusing feel beside the point.

Kavitha hesitated for exactly one second.

Then she accepted.

They walked the remaining distance in silence. Not uncomfortable silence — the kind that had enough space in it for Kavitha's heartbeat to gradually slow and her hands to gradually stop shaking and the night to become just a night again rather than something that had almost been much worse.

Seren walked slightly closer than a professor probably should.

Kavitha didn't mention it.

When they reached the house Seren stopped at a respectful distance. She made no move to come closer, asked no questions about who lived there or what Kavitha's family would think of her arriving home late with a European professor.

She simply stopped.

Gave a small wave.

Kavitha turned at the gate.

"Thank you, Professor."

Her voice came out steadier than she expected. Quieter too - the kind of quiet that meant more than volume would have.

Seren nodded once.

Then she turned and walked back into the dark street without looking back.

Kavitha stood at the gate until the sound of her footsteps faded completely.

Then she went inside.

Her hands had stopped shaking.

She wasn't entirely sure when.