Sometimes I think my diary knows me better than anyone else.
Today was just another ordinary day- lectures, assignments, the usual chaos. But when I sit down with this pen, it doesn’t feel ordinary anymore. Every word feels like a little piece of me.
I wanted to write about him today, about Aditya. Just his name makes my heart stumble a little. But maybe I’ll keep that for later. It’s easier to pour myself out here than to ever say it aloud.
Before I could finish, I heard Ma’s voice echo from the kitchen.
“Avni! Can you come here for a moment?”
Naina Mehra never needed a reason she just called, and I had to go. I sighed, closed the diary halfway, and promised myself I’d return to the page. Little did I know, the words I left unfinished would one day mean more than I could imagine.
I tucked the diary under my pillow, grabbed a pen that had rolled to the edge of the table, and walked toward the kitchen.
Ma was standing near the sink, hands dipped in soapy water. “Avni, just help me with these dishes. Your father’s reading the newspaper like the Prime Minister of the house. One daughter, and he acts like he’s raised a queen.”
“Ma…” I dragged the word like a complaint, “I have to finish my internship prep notes. The interview is in three days. If I don’t..”
Before I could finish, a firm voice interrupted.
“Naina, let her study,” Papa said from the living room, not even looking up from his paper. “She’s worked hard for this internship. Don’t waste her time with chores.”
I hid a smile as Ma rolled her eyes dramatically. “Haan haan, Mr. Ram Mehra, as if washing two plates will ruin her career.”
Papa finally looked up, pushing his glasses down his nose. “It starts with two plates, then becomes folding laundry, then running errands, and before you know it, her time is gone. I don’t want Avni to lose her chance because of something so silly.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. This was their everyday duel, Ma pulling me into her world, Papa fiercely guarding my future.
“Fine,” Ma muttered, shaking her head. “Go, princess. Just don’t forget your roots when you’re in some big company.”
I quickly hugged her from behind, whispering, “I’ll finish my notes and then come help you, promise.”
Papa smirked behind his paper. “Good girl.”
Back in my room, I sat at my desk and opened the neatly stacked notes. The internship wasn’t just a checkbox in my degree - it felt like a doorway to a life I wanted desperately. A life where I could stand on my own, where people saw me not just as Naina and Ram Mehra’s daughter, but as Avni Mehra - someone capable, someone enough.
Yet, in the middle of highlighting points and scribbling interview answers, my mind drifted. I imagined walking into the office, strangers all around, yet wishing just one familiar face was there.
And somehow, my thoughts slipped back to him.
Aditya.
His name had a way of sneaking into everything - like ink smudged on paper. We hadn’t spoken in years, yet the memory of him never really left. It stayed like an old bookmark pressed inside a forgotten novel.
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on HR terms and finance basics, not childhood smiles and eyes that once lit up at the sight of me.
Dinner was simple that night dal, rice, and Ma’s best aloo fry. We ate together, the way families should, with Papa’s jokes filling the air and Ma’s mock scoldings balancing it out.
After clearing the table, I tried slipping away to my room, but Ma caught me just as I touched the staircase.
“Avni, beta, could you fetch those new curtains from the storeroom? I’ll need them tomorrow when relatives come over.”
I nodded, though exhaustion tugged at me. The storeroom was a maze of half-forgotten things - boxes, suitcases, shelves stacked with old memories disguised as clutter.
I rummaged through the wooden shelf, searching for the plastic packet Ma described. My fingers brushed over fabric, paper, dust… until something slipped.
A photo frame clattered onto the floor.
“Careful!” Ma called faintly from the kitchen.
I bent down, picking it up. The glass hadn’t cracked - thank God. But when I turned it over, my breath caught.
It wasn’t just a photo. It was us.
A much younger me, maybe seven or eight, laughing with my arms thrown around a boy’s shoulders. His smile was wide, mischievous yet warm. Aditya. His cheek pressed to mine, both of us grinning at something only we seemed to share.
For a moment, the room dissolved. The shelves, the dust, even my present - it all blurred into the golden light of memory. His voice echoed in fragments. The way he called my name. The way he promised he’d never let me cry. The way he left… without explanation.
My fingers trembled against the wooden frame. I blinked hard, but the tears came anyway, uninvited, unstoppable.
Why did one photograph feel heavier than all the words in my diary?
I quickly wiped my face and slipped the frame back onto the shelf, hiding it behind old files as if burying a ghost. But the image lingered. His smile lingered.
And in that moment, I knew my diary would no longer be filled with only ordinary days. Because the past I thought I’d locked away had just found its way back to me.
How did you guys like it? Please do share your views on this.
"What happens when the past you buried finds its way back into your present? Avni thought she had moved on… until one photo brought it all back. "
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