Arrival

Aditya

The plane jolted as it descended, wheels scraping against the Delhi runway. Aditya gripped the armrest, his chest tightening. Three years of silence, and here he was again — back on soil that no longer felt like his.

Passengers rushed to unbuckle, pulling down bags, their voices buzzing with excitement. But Aditya sat still, staring at the seat in front of him. For them, this was homecoming. For him, it was reckoning.

His phone buzzed the moment they landed. A name flashed across the screen.

Sophia.

He hesitated, then answered.

“Adi?” her voice was soft, familiar, grounding.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Just landed.”

“Good. I wanted to check on you.” A pause, then her voice softened further. “Don’t be stressful, okay? Everything will be fine. And…” she hesitated, then laughed lightly, “come soon. I already miss you.”

Aditya leaned his head back against the seat, shutting his eyes. The warmth in her tone tugged at something deep inside. “It’s only a day, Sophie. But… I missed you too. I’ll see you guys soon.”

Her laughter, gentle and easy, filled his ear. Don’t forget us once India pulls you back in.

“I won’t,” he promised, though his mind betrayed him, already drifting to a different voice - one he hadn’t heard in three years, but couldn’t stop hearing in memory.

You ruined everything, Aditya.

He hung up slowly, the ache in his chest sharper now than before.

Outside the airport, the air was warmer, heavier. The scents of masala, dust, and diesel wrapped around him in a way London never had. It was overwhelming.

“Adi!”

His mother’s voice cut through the noise.

Riya Agnihotri rushed forward, eyes glistening, arms wide. She hugged him fiercely, as if trying to erase three years in a single embrace. For a moment, Aditya let himself sink into it - the familiarity, the comfort.

“My boy,” she whispered, cupping his face. “You’re finally home.”

Aditya smiled faintly, his throat thick. “I missed you, Ma.”

Ashok Agnihotri stood beside her, his hand firm on Aditya’s shoulder. “Welcome back, son.”

Aditya nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s… good to be home.”

The drive back was a blur. Honking cars, street vendors, children playing cricket on dusty lanes - everything was the same, yet it felt like it belonged to someone else’s life.

When they turned into the Agnihotri driveway, Aditya’s heart twisted. The house stood unchanged, but it carried ghosts he couldn’t shake.

Ghosts of her.

The last time he had walked through those gates, Avni’s words had rung in his ears like a curse. Now, three years later, he was back. And so was she.

Inside, his mother fussed over him relentlessly. “You’ve lost weight. London doesn’t feed you properly. Sit, I’ll bring food.”

Aditya chuckled softly. “Ma, I just ate on the plane.”

“Plane food is not food,” she scolded, already bustling into the kitchen.

Ashok smirked. “Don’t waste your breath. You know how she is.”

Aditya sank into the sofa. The cushions smelled faintly of sandalwood and something else a smell that pulled at him in ways he couldn’t name.

He didn’t dare look toward the staircase. Not yet.

That night, after paneer, dal, and rotis that felt like warmth itself, Aditya sat in his old room. Nothing much had changed: the desk still stacked with books, the shelves lined with trophies, a cricket bat leaning in the corner. But there were newer touches too fresh curtains, a different paint shade, proof that life had gone on without him.

He ran his hand over the desk, tracing the scratches left from years ago. A flicker of memory surfaced Avni perched on this very desk, scribbling in his notebook while he scolded her. Her laughter echoing through the room.

He shut his eyes, forcing it back down.

Later, his mother slipped into the room. She sat beside him, her hand slipping into his.

“Adi,” she whispered, “things won’t be easy. She’s still hurt. But you both… you both need to face it.”

His throat tightened. “I don’t know if she’ll even look at me, Ma.”

Riya’s eyes softened. “Then let her see you anyway. Don’t hide this time.”

Her words lodged in his chest, heavy and unshakable.

Avni

Upstairs in the Mehra home, Avni sat at her desk, pretending to read. The words blurred. She had heard her parents return earlier, voices hushed, her mother’s eyes rimmed red.

She had refused to go with them to the Agnihotris. Refused to step foot in that house.

But she couldn’t stop herself from waiting. From listening.

And then it came.

His voice.

Muffled, distant, but unmistakable. Deeper now, steadier, yet still the same.

Her breath caught. Her pen slipped from her hand, clattering against the desk.

Three years of silence, three years of burying him  and a single word from his mouth had unraveled it all.

Her hands trembled as she snapped her diary shut.

“I won’t forgive him,” she whispered. But her voice cracked, betraying her.

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping the floor. Her chest heaved, her eyes burned.

Downstairs, Aditya laughed faintly at something his mother said.

And Avni’s world tilted all over again.

Aditya is finally home… but home doesn’t feel the same anymore. Three years of silence, and just one sound of his voice was enough to shake Avni’s world again. Do you think she can keep running from him? Or is this where their story truly begins again?

For this chapter, I’ve chosen All I Want by Kodaline. It captures both Aditya’s quiet guilt and Avni’s restless denial perfectly. Play it while you read, and let the emotions sink in.

I hope you’re enjoying the journey so far 🤍 Don’t forget to like and comment — I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter!