As soon as he disappeared, a thought stormed my mind. Had I really spent hours talking to a stranger, drifting into an enigmatic world of shadows? The absurdity stung. I rolled my eyes, my leg twitching with restless regret. I wanted to know his name. I hated that I didn’t. Some people leave without taking anything, yet somehow walk away with a piece of you.
Why did I listen so intently? Why did his words stay, clinging like an echo?
“Hey, Miss Daydreamer,” a voice interrupted. “What’s eating your mind?”
I startled, unaware she had arrived.
“You didn’t even notice me,” she added, amusement laced with mock offense.
“What happened while I was away?” she asked again, her voice grounding me back to reality.
“N-no, nothing,” I stammered. I couldn’t let her see inside my head. I barely understood it myself. Few hours. That’s all it took for him to unsettle me. How ridiculous would it sound if I said a stranger had made me question parts of myself I had never dared to explore?
Some conversations aren’t meant to be explained, I told myself. They’re meant to be buried.
“By the way,” she said hesitantly, guilt shadowing her eyes, “my boyfriend is joining us. I tried to stop him, but…” Her voice faded, fragile, apologetic.
The spark of anger surprised even me. I pulled my hand away, my words tumbling out raw and unfiltered. “Why? You promised this would be just us. Our girl-time. What happened to that?”
She winced.
“I’m really sorry,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t let me come alone. He said he wants to come with us . Please forgive me… just this once?” Her voice cracked. “I swear it won’t happen next time. Please.”
Next time.
She always said that. Disappointment settled quietly, the kind that doesn’t scream but aches.
Kashish,My childhood best friend. My sister in every way except blood. Loving her came as naturally as breathing. She had held my hand through nights when the world felt unbearable, never once asking for anything in return.
So why does it hurt like this?
Why does it feel like I’m losing her without a fight?
I hated myself for the thought that followed. I wished, just once, she would choose me over him. The guilt came instantly after, because he wasn’t a bad man. He cared. He worried. He loved her.
But love, I was beginning to realize, doesn’t always arrive gently.
Sometimes it wedges itself between people, quiet and invisible, slowly stretching the distance until familiar voices start sounding far away. I felt it then, the subtle fracture forming in the bond Kashish and I had built since childhood.
And I was terrified that one day, I would look back and realize I hadn’t lost her suddenly.
I had been losing her all along.
“Okay, baba, I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” kashish pleaded, her eyes clinging to mine like I was the last thread holding her steady.
“I know it’ll be the same next time,” I replied, resignation seeping into my voice before I could stop it.
Kashish knows me too well. My anxieties, my fears, the chaos that brews silently inside me. She’s the only one who can calm my storms with just a look or a touch. And yet, lately, it feels like she’s balancing her relationships on my patience, trimming pieces of me away to make space for someone else.
Maybe I’m just another responsibility now, I thought. Something she has to manage.
I shoved the thought aside, exhaustion settling deep in my bones.
“Whatever. Never mind. Let’s just go.”
Kashish nodded a little too eagerly, relief lighting up her face. I raised an eyebrow.
“By the way, where are we headed today?”
She squeezed my hand, her smile turning playful.
“There’s this quiet art gallery near Connaught Place. Minimal, calm, very aesthetic. I thought you’d like it.”
The idea made my chest ease slightly. White walls. Soft lights. Silence that doesn’t demand conversation. Still, the unplanned nature of it made me hesitate. I liked knowing where I stood.
Kashish, on the other hand, lived like the wind.
She's a free spirit, effortlessly collecting people the way beaches collect seashells. Her house turned into a zoo whenever her friends gathered. Laughter everywhere, voices overlapping, lives intertwining. I often wondered where she found that confidence, that ease with people.
And why I never could.
“Hey, kashish,” I said, my concern simmering beneath the surface.
“Yeah? What’s wrong?” she asked casually.
“Why do you always listen to him?” I asked quietly.
Her gaze drifted away from me, instinctively finding Manik. The way her eyes softened said everything before her lips moved.
“I love him,” she whispered.
Something inside me snapped, not loudly, but sharply.
“Love? Yeah, right,” I scoffed, sarcasm dripping from my words.
If love means losing yourself, I thought bitterly, then maybe I don’t want to understand it at all.
Kashish’s gaze never left Manik.
“One day,” she said softly, “you’ll love someone so deeply that your heart will ache for them. You’ll crave their presence, wait for them for hours to hear their voice, feel restless when they’re not around. Then you’ll understand how I feel about him. He’s my addiction… my sweetest escape.”
“That day will never come,” I replied with a light laugh, the words tumbling out like a quiet declaration of independence.
Love was never my cup of tea. I wasn’t ready to trust it, not fully. Not yet.
The very word love felt like a paradox to me. It weakened people, yet they worshipped it. They handed over their lives to someone else hand in the name of love, let themselves be controlled, and called it devotion. Don’t make me laugh.
How do you know they won’t leave halfway through the journey? That they won’t betray you? That no matter what happens, they’ll choose you every single time?
Where does this blind faith even come from?
I swallowed, my thoughts growing darker.
What if his heart no longer holds the same love for you? What if the dreams he showed you once wrapped in honeyed words remain unfulfilled?
If he shatters the hopes you built around him so carelessly… then what? What will you do then?
The questions lingered in the air, unspoken yet sharp, challenging kashish’s unwavering devotion.
This is an illusion, I thought bitterly.
The love you cherish will one day unleash a pain so vast you’ll drown in it, unable to trace where it all went wrong.
Love is a double-edged dagger. It pierces not only the one who loves, but also anyone foolish enough to try and heal the damage it leaves behind.
Those fragile butterflies fluttering in your chest at the beginning will grow blades for wings, slicing through you, draining the very life from your veins. The same gentle touch that once felt like comfort will become the source of unbearable agony.
Why surrender yourself to such darkness? Why dive willingly into the abyss?
For what?
“So-called love,” I scoffed inwardly.
But I bit my tongue. Some thoughts were never meant to be spoken aloud.
But seriously, why sacrifice your happiness for something so fleeting? I wondered.
What’s so alluring about having a lover? The risk of heartbreak, the vulnerability, the possibility of complete devastation?
“I’ll never understand it,” I murmured, shaking my head.
Yet when my gaze drifted toward Kashish, standing under the golden evening light with that carefree smile, something inside me softened.
If she’s happy, I decided, I won’t interfere. Her happiness is enough.
The storm inside me slowly settled, replaced by a reluctant acceptance.
Agrasen ki Baoli stretched before us, its ancient stone steps descending into silence. The place felt timeless, like it had watched countless stories unfold and vanish without a word. Moss clung to the walls, and the air was cooler there, carrying whispers of footsteps that once echoed centuries ago. Sunlight slipped through the arches, painting long shadows that clung to the stairs like secrets.
“Hey, idiot! What are you doing standing there? Come here!”
“Yeah, yeah!! I’m coming. Stop screaming, will you?” I snapped, carefully stepping down the worn stairs.
“Are you two insane?” I burst out, exhaustion finally spilling over. “It’s almost evening. I’m dead tired. Please, can we just go home now?”
My voice echoed faintly against the stone walls, swallowed by the depth of the baoli.
That day, we didn’t just roam Delhi, we measured it. I swear, I was so exhausted I couldn’t even lift a finger afterward.
“I’m never doing this again with you two.”
“Hahahahahaha!” kashish laughter bounced off the arches, loud and unapologetic.
I shot her a glare. “Why are you laughing? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Aww, my baby is tired,” she cooed, grabbing my arm. “Look at you. Come here, come here. Let me give you a huggie, my baby!”
“Hey, what the hell?!” I shoved her away, nearly losing my balance on the steps. “Get off me! Give me some space!”
Then, turning dramatically toward Manik, I said, “Hey, your girlfriend is flirting with me. Don’t you care?”
“You two continue,” he replied casually, hands in his pockets. “I’ll stay out of it. Anyone want ice cream?”
“W–what?!” I stared at him. “What kind of betrayal is this? …Actually, forget it. I need ice cream.”
I turned back to kashish, glaring as she clung to me like a leech. “Can you please let me go now? This is getting embarrassing.”
She pouted, eyes sparkling. “Aww, you don’t love me anymore?”
I sighed, looking around at the ancient steps sinking into darkness.
“If these walls could talk, I thought, they’d probably laugh at us too.”
Manik left to get us ice cream, and for a few minutes, Kashish grew unusually quiet. She rested her head on my shoulder, her weight familiar and comforting. We stayed like that in silence, the kind that doesn’t ask questions.
After a while, she spoke, smiling like a little kid with a secret tucked behind her teeth.
“Listen… do you know Manik’s birthday is next week?”
“Hn. So?” I replied, barely reacting.
“So I’ve planned a surprise for him,” she said, her voice glowing. “And you’re coming too.”
“Oh, okay,” I said slowly. “What’s the plan? Where are we going?”
She straightened up, her smile turning mischievous.
“Well,” she said, dragging the word out, “that’s a secret.”
          Â
           To be continued.....
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