Chapter 4: Miles and Methods

Veeresh Raishinghania learned early that dreams demanded discipline.

Once engineering began, distractions disappeared. College corridors replaced school classrooms, competition grew sharper, and Veeresh welcomed it. He was focused—almost fiercely so. While others complained about pressure, he thrived on it. Late-night study sessions, group discussions, projects that stretched till dawn—he took them all in stride.

When the opportunity to study in London came, it didn’t feel like a choice.

It felt inevitable.

London meant exposure.

London meant ideas bigger than classrooms.

London meant a future closer to the man he wanted to become.

The day he left, there were hugs, promises, hurried goodbyes at the airport. Messages poured in. Wishes followed him across continents.

Poornima’s name appeared on his phone too.

All the best, she had typed.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

He stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary, then locked his phone and boarded the flight.

In London, life moved fast.

Classes were demanding. Professors were unapologetic. Expectations were high. Veeresh adapted quickly, immersing himself completely. He learned to live alone, cook badly, manage money, and survive winters that felt nothing like home.

He dreamed in plans and spreadsheets now—start-ups, innovation, risks. Sleep became optional. Success became non-negotiable.

And somewhere between lectures and late-night cafés, Poornima slowly slipped into the background of his life—not erased, just… quiet.

Back home, Poornima chose a path that required patience more than boldness.

She joined engineering too—not because it was easy, but because it was necessary. A solid foundation. A backup. A step closer to understanding the systems she wanted to work within.

Her days were structured. Classes in the morning. Library in the afternoon. Notes rewritten neatly at night. While others partied or complained, Poornima stuck to her routine.

Alongside engineering, she prepared for the RBI examinations.

It wasn’t glamorous.

It wasn’t quick.

It demanded consistency, repetition, and faith in a future that refused to reveal itself easily.

She studied economics, banking awareness, current affairs—pages upon pages of quiet determination. While her friends measured success in semesters, she measured it in mock tests and incremental improvement.

There were moments—rare, unguarded moments—when she wondered about Veeresh.

She heard about London through mutual friends. About his confidence. His growing reputation. About how far he had gone—literally and otherwise.

Sometimes she pulled out her phone, hovered over his name, then put it away.

What would she say?

How are you? felt unnecessary.

I miss you felt inappropriate.

And silence felt… safer.

So she let him be.

She told herself she didn’t need distractions. That dreams demanded sacrifices. That some people were meant to walk only a part of the journey together.

Still, late at night, when the hostel corridors fell silent and her books lay open but unread, her mind wandered back—to school fights, sharp words, a black suit, a maroon saree, and a photograph she never fully understood.

They were both building futures now.

Different cities.

Different methods.

Different speeds.

Neither realized that distance doesn’t always end stories.

Sometimes, it only pauses them.