Mirrors and Terracotta
Niranjana was sitting by the window of a quiet art café in Fort Kochi, sipping her coffee, when a familiar silhouette caught her eye. Standing near the gallery section, admiring a painting, was a woman whose radiant presence hadn’t dimmed over the years—Avantika.
In an instant, memories of their university days came rushing back.
Back then, the campus had no couple more celebrated than Niranjana and Siddharth. They were a textbook match: identical tastes, shared career ambitions, and a smooth, effortless charm. Everyone called them the "fairytale pair."
In stark contrast were Avantika and Madhav. Their relationship had baffled the entire department. They argued incessantly, clashed over differing views, and seemed to spend half their time in heated debates or tearful reconciliations. Niranjana remembered Siddharth once laughing, "I don't know how those two survive each other. They don't have a single thing in common."
To Niranjana, that bond had looked fragile, destined to burn out quickly.
"Avantika?" Niranjana called out as she walked over.
Avantika turned, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. After a tight embrace, they settled down at a wooden table near the courtyard.
After catching up on careers and mutual acquaintances, Avantika asked with a smile, "How is Siddharth? How are things between the power couple?"
A fleeting shadow crossed Niranjana’s eyes, though she masked it with a calm, composed tone.
> "We actually separated two years ago, Avantika. It was mutual. When we finally started living together under one roof, we realized that sharing the same hobbies isn't the same as handling life's friction. Neither of us knew how to compromise when real differences showed up. We’re still good friends, though. He’s getting married next month, and I'm genuinely happy for him while focusing on my own path."
>
Avantika listened with gentle empathy, placing a comforting hand over hers.
Curious, Niranjana ventured, "And what about you and Madhav? Did that storm ever settle down after college?"
Avantika’s eyes sparkled with quiet pride.
"Madhav is just across the street at his design studio—he'll join us shortly," she said. "Next week is our fifth wedding anniversary. You have to come!"
Niranjana stared at her in mild disbelief. Two people who seemed like fire and oil had built a lasting home together.
"How did you two make it work?" Niranjana couldn't help asking. "Back in college, you argued over everything. How do you find peace with so many differences?"
Avantika offered a serene smile.
> "Because we never ran away from the friction, Niranjana. Those arguments weren't walls; they were windows. Every disagreement forced us to understand each other's boundaries, values, and vulnerabilities. I learned that his temper was just loud noise over petty things, but his commitment to me was absolute and unwavering.
> Real love isn't about finding a mirror image of yourself. It's about meeting someone entirely different and choosing to love them with all their imperfections, without trying to reshape them into who you want them to be."
>
Her words resonated deeply within Niranjana.
She realized that what she and Siddharth had was like a delicate glass mirror—flawless to look at, but fragile enough to shatter at the first hard collision. What Avantika and Madhav built was made of terracotta—rough around the edges, tempered by fire, but resilient enough to endure the tests of time.
As Madhav walked through the café doors, waving warmly at his wife, Avantika stood up to greet him. Watching them, Niranjana felt a sense of clarity settle in. For the first time, she understood what it truly meant to hold onto love.