After Revathi's soulful speech concluded, the reunion continued with laughter and nostalgia. One of the alumni stood and addressed the crowd:
"We've spoken about memories, careers, and college days… but let's talk about relationships. How do we remember people who touched our lives — deeply, permanently?"
The speaker then added with a smile, "Let's hear from someone unexpected. Maybe someone random from the audience? Anyone?"
There was a pause. A few giggles. Then someone pointed at Rishi.
"That guy! The one who helped with the speech. Let's hear him!"
Before Rishi could resist, he found himself gently encouraged toward the stage.
He stood there, eyes blinking under the soft lights, facing dozens of unfamiliar faces. His hands trembled. His mind scattered — flashing back through the years:
His childhood in India… being left out at school…
His lonely days in London…
The cold flat, the silence, only Oggy the cat for company…
The day Olivia told him about his grandfather's death…
The weight of his introversion pressed on him like never before.
He almost turned to walk away.
And then, his eyes found Revathi in the crowd — calm, smiling, giving him a small nod of assurance.
Suddenly, his mind cleared. Her presence brought him back to the now. His voice, quiet at first, began to rise.
"Relationships," Rishi said slowly, "are not built from big gestures. They're built from little things… the way someone says your name, or the way they leave a note by your side, or how a single sentence they said ten years ago still echoes in your mind."
He paused. The hall fell silent.
"Sometimes, a person lives on not in your photographs… but in one word they used that no one else does. A phrase. A smile. A tea they made. That's how memory works. Not through monuments — but through whispers."
His words hung in the air. Then applause. Real, warm, grateful.
As Rishi stepped off stage, Revathi met him with wide eyes.
"You did it," she whispered. "You just... broke through your shell."
He smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a long while. "Only because you helped me believe I could."
Soon after, Rishi left Thiruvallur and traveled toward Sriperumbudur. Alone, but different now.
He didn't even touch his phone, despite the battery being full again. Something in him had changed. He looked out the bus window, taking in every tree, every turn. He wasn't escaping anymore. He was arriving.
The village welcomed him with silence.