Alisha

 We stood outside the same club—that club—where everything had spiraled so horribly wrong for me. But this time… something was different. The fear hadn’t vanished entirely, but it no longer ruled me.

Because Jayant had rewritten this place in my memory.
He turned a night of trauma into a story of strength. He didn’t just fight for me—he reminded me of who I was before fear took over.

And now, instead of shaking in dread, I stood still... grounded.
Jayant stepped closer, his hands gently cupping my face, like I was something breakable and precious at the same time. His thumbs brushed my cheeks, and our eyes locked. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away. I looked right at him, and he looked at me like I was whole—even when I didn’t feel that way.

He leaned in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

Warm. Steady. Safe.

Then, in the faintest whisper, he said,
“I’m sorry.”

My lips parted, but no words came. I didn’t need to speak. That kiss said everything.
It healed more than apologies ever could.
He reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. That single gesture... it pulled me back into the world. Without a word, he led me to the car, opened the door, helped me sit, and even fastened my seatbelt. I watched him do it all in silence—tender, focused, calm.

He walked around, sat in the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

But before we drove off, I turned my head just slightly to watch him.

Not the man who saved me.
But the man who reminded me to save myself.

We didn’t speak.

We just left.

And for the first time in a long time…
I felt like I wasn’t carrying the weight alone.
After a while, as the road stretched endlessly ahead and the weight of silence settled comfortably between us, I turned slightly toward him.

My voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
“How did you find out… about last night?”

Jayant didn’t look at me. His hands remained steady on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. But his voice—calm, familiar, and reassuring—wrapped around me like a blanket.

“Tumhara bhalu hi toh hoon main… koi cheez tumhe pareshaan kare aur mujhe pata na chale, aisa kabhi hua hai kya?”
I stared at him. For a second, the world slowed.

That’s Jayant.

He always knows.
Even when I say nothing. Even when I try to hide it behind a smile.
He sees me.

He always has.
Except for one thing.

Fourteen years. Fourteen long years of friendship, of being each other's shadow—laughing, fighting, drifting, returning. And still, somehow, he knows the unspoken parts of me better than I do.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to.
Because right in that moment, I realized something...
I could’ve fallen apart last night.
But today, I didn’t have to pick up the pieces alone.

He was already there. Quietly, fiercely, always there.

I turned my face toward the window, hiding the soft sting in my eyes.
A tear rolled down my cheek, but it didn’t feel heavy.
It felt like release.

And Jayant just drove… like he already knew.

After that day at the club… something shifted.

Not just in the air around us—but in us.

Jayant and I didn’t speak about what happened again. We didn’t need to. He gave me back my power, and somewhere in doing that, he took a part of me with him.

The next few days felt like a dream.

We explored every corner of Mumbai like two carefree souls on borrowed time—Chowpatty ki chaat, Marine Drive sunsets, Gateway selfies, street shopping at Colaba, stolen glances, shared laughter, and long silences that felt fuller than any words.

And when the city lights faded, we watched a film in an almost-empty theatre, his arm casually draped behind my seat, my head gently resting on his shoulder. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t titled—yet it felt like a perfect date.

Every moment with him felt right. Easy. Safe.

And then came morning.

I walked out of my room, sleepy-eyed and smiling, only to find him zipping his bag, his eyes already turned away.

"You're leaving?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He looked up, that same calm on his face—but I saw it. That shadow in his eyes.

"I have to go back to Delhi today."

Just like that.

The ground slipped a little beneath me. My smile faltered.
"But… why now? Everything was going so… right."

I didn’t say it aloud. I didn’t need to.

He walked over, gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Alisha, this doesn’t change anything. I’ll be just a call away."

But calls don’t hold hands.
Calls don’t watch you laugh.
Calls don’t kiss your forehead when your world feels broken.

I nodded. What else could I do?

Sometimes, people don’t leave you with words… they leave with silence that hurts even more.

And as he picked up his bag, my heart whispered what my lips couldn’t—

Stay.

And then he was gone.

Leaving behind the scent of coffee, the memory of laughter… and the echo of something that might’ve been love.

The entire day passed with Jayant living in my mind.

Every little memory of him played on an endless loop—his voice, his smile, the way he held my hand like it was something sacred. I didn’t realize how many times I’d replayed it all until my eyes stung from the weight of remembering.

And then, just as the sky began to melt into evening, the doorbell rang.

I hesitated for a second before opening it.

Standing there was Rishi.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confused and a little annoyed.

He gave me that familiar lopsided grin. "Let me in first. Then I’ll explain."

He stepped in like he owned the place, throwing his backpack onto the couch as if nothing had changed.

Turned out, he was in town for some urgent work. His flight was scheduled for the next morning, and without bothering to book a hotel, he just landed at my door—like old times. Typical Rishi.

Honestly, I didn’t want him staying over. Not today. Not when my heart still hadn’t adjusted to the silence Jayant had left behind. But we had years of friendship behind us, and saying no felt... wrong.

A little while later, he grew restless. The city outside seemed to call to him.

"Let’s go out," he said suddenly.

"I don’t feel like it," I muttered, curled into the corner of my sofa.

"Come on, Alisha," he urged. "Chal na yaar."

I didn’t have the energy to argue. And maybe, a small part of me just wanted to escape my own thoughts.
But Rishi had a way of dragging people into his world. He didn’t give me much of a choice.

So I went. I found myself walking beside Rishi into the night.

But I knew the truth—my heart wasn’t in it.

It was still somewhere else.

With someone else.

With Jayant.

my heart… was still sitting next to Jayant in that cinema, still laughing with him by the sea, still holding his hand under the stars.

I was lost in my own thoughts—drowning in memories of Jayant—when Rishi suddenly said, not asking, but more like stating a fact,
“Jayant came, didn’t he?”

“What?” I snapped out of my daze.

We both slowed down, feet dragging against the pavement along Marine Drive. The salty wind brushed past us, catching strands of my hair. He turned slightly to face me, his eyes calm but knowing.

“He was here,” he repeated. “Right?”

I hesitated for a second… but then I nodded. “Yes.”

I couldn’t lie. Not about Jayant. Not to Rishi.

“How do you know?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Rishi smirked and raised his hands into the air, letting the breeze flow between his fingers. “Because it’s written all over your face,” he said. “In bold, bold letters.”

I scoffed and turned away. “Liar.”

He chuckled. “It’s true.”

I nudged him playfully. “Wanna eat something?”

“Ah, there it is,” he said dramatically. “The classic topic change. Smooth, Alisha.”

“Come on,” I rolled my eyes. “chalo.”
nudging his arm.

Later, we were sitting across from each other in a quiet café. We'd already ordered food. There was a small yellow candle on the table, flickering against his face.
I stared down at the table for a moment, then finally spoke, my voice soft and sure.

“I think jayant finally realising,” I said. “He missed me so much…”

Rishi didn’t lift his eyes from his phone. “We all miss you, yaar. Even in Delhi.”

I stared at him. “It’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?” he shrugged,

He looked up now, just slightly. “How? We’re all your friends. Jayant treats you like his best friend. You live here alone in Mumbai, obviously we worry about you.”

Before he could look back down, I snatched the phone from his hands.

“Alisha!” he groaned.

“Listen carefully,” I said, holding the phone hostage. “I’m trying to say something important.”

I was half serious, half playful, but I needed him to hear me.

He sighed, clearly annoyed, and took his phone back.

He grabbed it back and muttered, “You and your Jayant Raag... Nothing new.”

I narrowed my eyes and pointed a finger at him. "See you're making me angry"

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, finally grinning. “Okay okay, go on. I’m all ears now.

I finally told Rishi everything.

Why Jayant had come…
What he did…
How he showed up, without a second thought, just for me.

As I spoke, I could see Rishi’s jaw tightening, his fists curling slightly on the table at the part where I mentioned the club. His anger flared for a moment—but I gently placed my hand on his and said, “It’s okay now. It’s over.”

But the disbelief still lingered in my voice when I said, “He came all the way to Mumbai for something like that. Left everything behind. Who does that, Rishi?”

Rishi didn’t even hesitate.

“People who care,” he said flatly. “But you should stop reading so much fiction. Live in reality.”
"You’re not getting what I’m trying to say," I said, my voice pressing, hoping he’d finally understand.

"I do get it," Rishi replied, his tone calm but steady. "Anyone in his place would’ve done the same. I would’ve too."

I shook my head and leaned forward, my voice rising just slightly. "But I didn’t tell him anything, Rishi. He figured it out himself."

Before I could say more, he cut in. "Because it’s Jayant. He knows you. He cares about you more than you realize."

"I know," I said softly, "but this time... it felt different. It wasn’t just friendship. It was… more."

Rishi’s gaze hardened. “Whatever you think this is, Alisha... get it out of your head.”

I snapped. “Why should I? Tell me why I shouldn’t hope?”

His jaw tightened before he spoke. “Did you forget what happened in our final year of college?”

And just like that, the weight of that memory dropped inside me like a stone in still water. Of course I hadn’t forgotten. That pain still lived somewhere inside me, quietly breathing.

I fell silent. My chest rose and fell as the memory flickered across my mind, playing like an old film I had no control over.

Rishi placed his hand gently over mine. “Don’t go back down that road again, Alisha. You’re better here. You’ve healed.”

I yanked my hand back. “How would you know I’m okay?” I whispered, a storm rising in my voice. “That day… what Jayant did… it was just a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Rishi echoed, stunned. “Alisha, he hurt you.”

I clenched my fists. “He didn’t mean to. You can’t blame him for something he never even knew. He didn’t know I was in love with him… if he had known, he never would’ve hurt me.”

“Alisha—”

“Rishi—”

We both froze, staring at each other across the table.

The food had arrived, but neither of us touched it. The silence between us was louder than the soft music in the café, louder than our thoughts.

Finally, Rishi broke it.

“Do you actually see hope in all this?”

I held his gaze and nodded, my voice soft but certain. “Yes. I see a little hope.”

He looked away briefly, then back at me. “Don’t hold onto that hope. It’s only going to hurt.”

“Let me try one last time,” I whispered. “Just once. What if it works?”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re going to get hurt again.”

“And if I do?” I smiled faintly. “Then I’ll still have you, won’t I? Your shoulder is still there for me to cry on, right?”

Rishi looked away, blinking too fast. “We’ve always fought over Jayant… since we were kids.”

“Because he’s always been special,” I said. “And maybe… he always will be.”

We both finished our meals in silence. I gestured to the waiter to bring the bill. And just as he walked away, I glanced at Rishi and, hesitating a little, said, “I was thinking… maybe I should just go back to Delhi with you.”

Rishi looked at me, and in his usual sarcastic tone, smirked, “Of course. Pack up everything and come along—bags, boxes, emotions, regrets… all of it.”

“Rishi,” I snapped, half laughing, half annoyed.

His smirk faded just a bit. “Why not? You came to Mumbai to stay away from Jayant, right? And now when that whole ‘distance’ thing is out the window, what’s left to stay here for?”

I didn’t respond. My face remained still, my eyes locked on the table.

“What is your problem exactly?” I asked.

And then, suddenly serious, he said, “My only problem is… you’re not flying back with me.”

“What? Why?” I asked, confused by the abrupt change.

He leaned back, crossed his arms like a stubborn child, and said, “Because I don’t want to be part of your self-destruction.”

“Self-destruction?” I repeated, standing up, nearly knocking over my chair. I swatted at him playfully but with frustration bubbling just under my skin.

Just then, a voice from behind me said, “Excuse me… Alisha?”

Standing there was a woman in her early thirties—sharp features, flawless skin, effortlessly elegant, and radiating a quiet kind of power. The kind that didn't need to be announced.

“You might not remember my face,” she said with a small smile.
trying to place her face. I couldn’t recall—until a wave of recognition hit me like a breeze in the heat.

My breath caught. “Oh my God… you’re the one who helped me.”

She smiled warmly. “Hmm,” she said with a graceful nod.

Before she could say anything more, I blurted, “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I didn’t get the chance to say it that night. I never got to thank you,” I said quickly. “I was too shaken that night. I just left. I’m so sorry.”

Laughing gently, she waved it off. “Don’t be sorry. And as for the thank you... I already received it long ago. I’ve never had someone say it quite like you did. It honestly made me curious to meet you.”

I frowned slightly. “Wait… what do you mean I already said thank you? When?”

She laughed again, tilting her head. “You forgot? You sent a bouquet of flowers, chocolates, little handwritten notes… all delivered by someone named Vijay?”

Vijay?

The moment I heard that name, something clicked. My heart stilled.

Jayant.

It was him. He sent those gifts on my behalf.

I turned slowly toward Rishi and raised an eyebrow. See? I told him with my eyes. Rishi, of course, rolled his eyes and looked away dramatically.

She went on to tell me that after receiving those gifts, she grew curious about me. She found my Instagram, read through my posts—poetry, thoughts, stories. Apparently, she loved my writing.

“I run a publishing house,” she said, pulling a sleek card from her bag. “If you ever want to write for something real—novel, anthology, whatever—reach out. I’d love to publish you.”

I stared at the card in disbelief. She was offering me something I’d only dreamed of.

I didn’t know why Rishi suddenly got up and left. He didn’t say a word. Just stood and walked out of the café like something had pulled him away.

After chatting for a few more minutes, she glanced at her phone. “I should get going. My sister’s waiting outside.”

We exchanged a soft goodbye—no promises, just a silent hope that maybe we’d cross paths again.

As she walked out, her presence lingered for a moment longer than expected. I glanced down at the business card she had handed me earlier. It read:
Ramya Chaudhary – CEO, To My Dear Publications.

I whispered the name again to myself. Ramya. Something about it stuck—elegant, strong, like her.

I quickly paid the bill and stepped out to look for Rishi.

He wasn’t far.

Standing beside a parked car,

I turned to Rishi—only to find him staring elsewhere.

At someone else.

A girl.

She was sitting in the passenger seat in Ramya's car—well, He was just... staring. Like a boy who’d just met a real-life crush for the first time.

I smirked and walked up behind him, tapping his shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

He flinched, caught off guard. “Wh–what? Nothing. Nothing’s going on!”

“Oh really?” I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “It looked like something was going on.”

He gave me a half-annoyed, half-embarrassed look. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” I said, drawing out the word. “Totally imagining the way your eyes were glued to her like she’s the last woman left on Earth.”

He tried to walk away, but I followed, still teasing. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s go back to the room.”

Just as he turned to give me a warning glare, I nudged him playfully.
“Topic change,” I teased, laughing. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your little moment a secret.”

His ears turned a little red, but he didn’t deny it.

Some moments speak louder than words. And this one? It spoke volumes.

Back in the room, as I settled in and opened my laptop, Rishi didn’t waste a second.

“So… you know the girl who was in the car, right?”

I didn’t even look up. “Yeah, now I do.”

He hesitated for a moment, his voice shifting into a gentler tone. “Then maybe… maybe you know her too?”

I paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Her? Who exactly?”

“Don’t act clueless, Alisha,” he said with a half-smile, but there was a nervous energy behind it.

I finally looked up at him, catching the flicker of curiosity—and something more—in his eyes.

“No, no, first you tell me,” I said, leaning back in my chair with a teasing grin. “How do you know her?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly flustered. “I don’t know her. I just… want to.”

A small laugh escaped me as I studied his face, catching the glow in his cheeks. “Rishi,” I said, playfully pointing,“You should’ve seen your face,” I teased gently. “Cheeks all red, eyes shining. Like the whole world faded and only she remained.”

The smile disappeared from my face just as quickly. I looked down at my hands.

“Rishi,” I said after a beat, my voice quieter now. “Don’t be like me.”

He turned to me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“If you feel something for her… anything real… say it. Don’t bottle it up. Don’t wait.”
"If you love her then tell her"

He didn’t reply at first, just watched me closely.

He noticed it then—the crack in my voice, the weight behind my words. The pain I hadn’t meant to show.

Without hesitation, he came closer, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice close to my ear, full of something strong and steady. “You said you saw hope in love, right?”

I nodded faintly, tears stinging my eyes.

“Then hold on to that, Alisha. Because maybe… just maybe… everything will be okay.”

And somehow, in that moment, I wanted to believe it too.
_____________________

Some time later, after enough teasing and persistence, Rishi finally gave in. He leaned back, exhaled deeply, and began.

“It’s been over a year now,” he said, his voice soft, almost distant, like he was pulling the memory out from somewhere sacred. “I see her… everywhere. Sometimes in the crowd, sometimes in passing glances, and sometimes… only in my head.”

I turned toward him, already intrigued.

“The first time I saw her was at a metro station,” he continued. “I was on my way out—just another usual day in Mumbai. The rush was insane, and I remember being in a hurry. And then… she came running down the escalator.”

His gaze drifted toward the ceiling as if replaying the moment frame by frame.

“She was wearing denim shorts, a loose T-shirt, a jacket lazily tied around her wrist, and a tiny bag slung across her back. She looked like she didn’t care about the world—or maybe the world just couldn’t catch up to her.”
I remember her, her eyes, her brown hair. Everything

He paused, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“She bumped into me. Just for a second. That’s all it was. But I swear, that second—something stayed with me.”

“What stayed?” I asked, leaning closer.

He looked at me, eyes shining. “Her scent. I don’t know what it was… something in the way she smelled—fresh, a little wild. It clung to me like it belonged there. I swear I could still feel it on my skin.”

I stared at him, a little speechless. That wasn’t just a crush—this was something deeper, unspoken.

“I followed her,” he admitted, half-laughing at himself. “Back into the metro. Didn’t even care where she was going. I searched every coach… and I found her.”

“And?” I asked, already hooked.

"I stood still, captivated by the way she looked."
“I didn’t say a word. Just watched her from a distance. She stood near the door, earbuds in, lost in her own world. When she got off, I followed her out too. And that’s when I noticed something...”

He looked at me, more serious now.

“There was a keychain dangling from the zip of her bag. Three tiny smiley faces… all grinning like they knew something I didn’t. In the hurry, it slipped off. She didn’t notice. But I picked it up before it could vanish under the crowd’s feet.”

“You kept it?” I asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded. “It’s still with me.”

I grinned, curiosity piqued. “Show me.”

But Rishi’s face turned guarded, instantly. “No,” he said, flatly.

“Come on,” I laughed, nudging him. “Just one glimpse.”

But his answer came quickly. “No.”

“Why not?” I teased.

“Because…” he hesitated. “It’s not just a keychain anymore. It’s the only proof that moment was real.”

I said nothing. Because how could I? Some moments aren’t meant to be touched, just felt.

I asked, a little sad, "Then what happened after that?"

Rishi leaned back, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the room.

“Then… every time I came to Mumbai,” he said softly, “I’d see her. Somewhere. Somehow. Just like today. She was right there—clear as daylight behind the glass door. And it felt like… like she was trying to say something without saying anything at all. I thought she looking for someone.”

I tilted my head, curiosity bubbling in my chest. “Then why didn’t you ever try to talk to her?”

There was a flicker of something heavy in his eyes. And when he looked at me, I knew his silence carried weight.

“She has a boyfriend,” he finally said, his voice lower now.

“How do you know?” I asked gently.

“I saw her,” he replied, the memory still fresh in his voice. “At a mall. She was laughing, kissing someone. The way she looked at him... it said everything.”

I felt a pinch in my chest—for him.

“How long ago was this?” I asked quietly.

“Eleven months.”

His words lingered between us.

“After that,” he continued, “I never let myself think about approaching her. What would be the point?”

I nodded slowly, but then something tugged at me, and I asked, “But even now, you still want to know… if they’re still together or not?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just… I just want to know her name. That’s it. To not keep calling her a stranger in my head.”

A small smile crept onto my lips. “But to name someone… do you really need to know them first?” I teased. “You could call her anything you like. Sona, Babu, Sweetheart…”

He chuckled, the weight easing a little from his shoulders. “I’ve already named her.”

“Oh really?” I raised an eyebrow. “What did you name her?”

His voice softened, almost as if he was saying it just for himself. “Sunshine.”

I blinked, surprised by the warmth in the name. “Sunshine? Seriously?”

He smiled, brighter now. “Yeah. Because no matter how bad my day was, seeing her—even for a second—made everything feel lighter. Better. Like… she made the day shine.”

"She came like unexpected, uninvited, but unforgettable."

I looked at him for a long moment, and in that moment, I didn’t see my friend Rishi. I saw a man carrying a quiet love story in his heart—a story that had no beginning, no promise of an end, but somehow still glowed in the corners of his soul.

And I couldn’t help but whisper, “Sunshine suits her.”

I stared at him, silent now.

Because sometimes, what hurts the most isn’t losing someone—it’s never getting the chance to have them at all.

And just like that, time passed—wrapped in soft words, buried hopes, and silent heartbeats. Two people sat together, each holding the weight of a love that was never theirs. Rishi, who never got the chance to confess his heart… and me, who had the chance, but never found the courage to take it.

*************************************

Two silent hearts, seated at one table,
Full of feelings, yet words were unable.

One loved, but never got the chance,
The other stayed quiet, despite the glance.

One hid love behind a friendly name,
The other's love got lost in the crowd’s game.

Love was felt, but never confessed,
And silence spoke what lips suppressed.

Two half hearts, two stories untold,
There was love, but it never took hold.

************************************

दो अनकहे जज़्बात, एक टेबल पर सजे,
दिल भरे हुए थे, मगर लफ़्ज़ थे बुझे।

एक ने चाहा, पर मौक़ा ना मिला,
दूजे के पास वक़्त था, फिर भी दिल ना खुला।

एक का इश्क़ दोस्ती के नाम में छिपा,
दूजे का प्यार अजनबी की भीड़ में गुम हुआ।

एक की मोहब्बत नज़रों के सामने थी,
दूजे की बस यादों के कोनों में कही सजी थी।

कहने को दोनों ने प्यार किया बेइंतहा,
पर किस्मत ने इकरार से पहले ही राहें मोड़ दीं सभी।

ना हाथ थामे, ना वादा किया,
बस एक चुप्पी ने सब कुछ कह दिया।

दो अधूरे दिल, दो अधूरी दास्तान,
मोहब्बत थी, मगर मुकम्मल ना थी पहचान।

************************************

🫶🫶