Aditya – London
Aditya zipped up his suitcase for the third time. The clothes never fit right, no matter how many times he refolded them. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
Packing or wrestling? Raj leaned against the doorway, grinning, a bag of crisps in hand.
Aditya shot him a look. Want to help?
Raj crunched loudly. “Absolutely not. But I’ll supervise. Don’t forget socks. If you go barefoot at the airport, India will disown you before you even land.”
Aditya smirked. Pretty sure India doesn’t care about my socks.
“India doesn’t,” Raj said, flopping onto the bed, “but I do. You embarrass me by association.”
Aditya shook his head, but there was comfort in the banter. Raj was impossible, but he made the silence less suffocating.
That evening, their friends gathered for one last dinner. The restaurant buzzed with clinking cutlery and Bollywood music faintly playing in the background.
Saloni waved her dupatta dramatically as soon as she saw him. “There he is! Leaving us to suffer without his tragic poetry.”
Oscar smirked. “Finally. Peace and quiet in London.”
David patted Aditya’s shoulder. “We’ll survive without you. Barely. But we’ll survive.”
“Lies,” Saloni scoffed. “He’ll miss us more than butter chicken. Just wait and see.”
Raj raised his glass. “To Aditya, who’s abandoning us for paneer, relatives, and emotional drama. May he remember us when he’s drowning in samosas.”
The table burst into laughter. Even Aditya chuckled, though his chest felt heavier than he let on.
For a few hours, it was easy to forget.
When the others drifted away, Sophia lingered. They walked quietly along the street, the cold air brushing against their faces.
“You’re really going,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” His voice was low, uncertain.
She gave a faint smile. “It’s not the flight you’re afraid of, Adi. It’s where it lands.”
Her words hit too close. He said nothing.
Sophia stopped, turning to face him. “Look… you’ve built a life here. Friends, work, a routine. But your heart? It was never here. And it never will be.”
He looked away, his throat tight.
She exhaled, her voice gentler. “I know you’ll never choose me. And I’ve made my peace with that. But promise me this - don’t let someone else make your choices for you again. Not your parents, not even her.”
He swallowed hard. “Sophia..”
She smiled, though her eyes glistened. “Just go. And don’t forget me.”
He wanted to tell her he never could. Instead, he nodded.
The next morning, chaos erupted at the airport.
Saloni hugged him so tight he thought his ribs might crack. “Call us every week or I’ll hunt you down.”
David handed him a list. “Snacks to bring back. Don’t fail me.”
Oscar smirked. “Try not to get married without telling us this time.”
Raj yelled so loudly the whole terminal turned: “ayy, Adi! Don’t forget how to speak Hindi!”
Aditya groaned as security waved him forward, his friends’ laughter echoing behind him.
On the plane, he pressed his forehead to the window, the city shrinking below. His fingers tightened around the photo in his pocket , Avni’s arms around his shoulders, both of them laughing, once upon a time.
Three years of silence. Three years of distance. And now, there was no running left.
Avni – India
Avni tossed and turned, her diary lying unopened on the desk. Every time she closed her eyes, her father’s words replayed:
Aditya’s returning soon.
She sat up, pressing her palms to her face. Why did her chest feel so tight? Why did the thought of seeing him again make her stomach twist?
At breakfast, Ma was almost glowing. “Avni, did you hear? Aditya will be home in a few days. We should plan something nice - maybe a dinner for him?”
Avni’s spoon clattered against the plate. “Ma, it’s not a festival. He’s just coming home.”
Papa looked over his glasses. “Naina, don’t pressure her.”
But Ma waved him off. “Ram, they grew up together. It’s only natural.” She turned to Avni. “Beta, at least come with us when we visit the Agnihotris tomorrow. It’s been three years.”
“No.” Avni’s voice was sharp, final.
“Avni-”
“I said no.” She pushed her chair back, standing.
Naina’s voice cracked, her hands trembling slightly. “You both are not children anymore. It’s been three years, Avni. Don’t forget… he is your…”
“Don’t.” Avni’s voice rose, her eyes stinging. “Don’t say it.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Avni stormed off, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.
In the kitchen, Naina sank into a chair, tears welling in her eyes. “When will they understand, Ram? Did we do the right thing that night… or did we ruin them both?”
Ram sighed heavily, placing a hand on hers. “We did what we thought was best.”
“But was it?” she whispered, breaking.
Later that afternoon, Avni met Nisha and Shreya at their usual café.
“You’re joking,” Nisha said, wide-eyed. “He’s actually coming back?”
Shreya smirked. “Oh my God, Avni. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” Avni snapped. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure,” Nisha teased. “That’s why you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Avni glared. “I’ve been busy with internship prep.”
“Of course,” Shreya said, sipping her latte. “Preparing… to face Aditya.”
Avni slammed her cup down. “You both are impossible.”
But when the teasing faded, her silence betrayed her.
That night, she sat by her window, her diary open. The words spilled slowly, each stroke of the pen heavier than the last.
Three years later, I’ll have to face him again. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.
She shut the diary abruptly, pressing it to her chest.
And somewhere high above the clouds, on a flight cutting through the night sky, Aditya gripped the same photo - the ghost of their laughter frozen in time.
Both wide awake. Both waiting. Both unprepared.
For the first time, their worlds are moving closer again. Did you feel the shift? Do you think they’re ready to face each other after three long years?
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