Cold Weather (ठंडी का मौसम)
A Short Story by Vasu Gangapalli

The fog hung low over the railway platform, wrapping everything in a pale silence. Aarav rubbed his hands together, breath turning into white smoke. Winter always did this to him—made memories louder.

“Chai?” a familiar voice asked.
Aarav froze.

He turned slowly. Meera stood there, woollen scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, eyes exactly the same—warm, questioning, unreadable.

“You?” he whispered. “After five years?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Cold weather brings people back, doesn’t it?”

They sat on a bench, steam rising from paper cups. The train announcement echoed like a distant thought.

“I thought you moved abroad,” Aarav said.

“I did. And I came back,” Meera replied. “Some things don’t let you stay away.”

Silence stretched between them, thick as the fog.

“You left without saying goodbye,” Aarav said, his voice trembling. “One winter morning… you were just gone.”

Meera looked down. “Because if I had said goodbye, I wouldn’t have left.”

Aarav laughed bitterly. “You broke me.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But I saved you too.”

He frowned. “Saved me?”

Meera pulled out an old letter from her coat.

“The night before I left, I found your medical reports. Terminal illness. You were hiding it.”

Aarav’s breath caught. “I didn’t want pity.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she said, eyes glistening. “I left to make you fight. To give you a reason to live beyond me.”

The train arrived with a roar.

“I survived,” Aarav said quietly. “Treatment worked.”

Meera smiled through tears. “I knew it would.”
The doors opened.

“Are you getting on?” Aarav asked.

“No,” she replied, standing up. “I just came to see if winter had finally ended for you.”

She walked away, disappearing into the fog.
Aarav stood alone, warmth spreading in his chest despite the cold.

Some winters don’t come to freeze you—
they come to teach you how to survive.