One day, that changed everything.

"Why would you tell on me? How dare you?" His voice was sharp, filled with betrayal.
Krisha crossed her arms. "Because you hurt me. Joking around is fine, but you tripped me. I could’ve fallen down the stairs."
He scoffed. "But I caught you. You know I’d never let you get hurt."
She shook her head. "But you already did, mister."

Silence stretched between them.
His jaw clenched. "Fine. Go to hell, Miss Perfect. Don’t ever talk to me again."
And that was it.
They went their separate ways.






Years Later...
Life has a funny way of reminding us of the people we lost. It sneaks them into our thoughts in quiet moments.
They had spent years apart, but some friendships—even broken ones—never really leave us.

We find other friends, other memories, but some people feel like home.
And when they leave, it makes you wonder:
Do they ever miss us?
Will we ever meet again?
Was that fight really worth it?
Or were we just being kids?
But life moves on. And before you know it, you're grown up, dealing with adulthood, responsibilities, and regrets.
And here I am, doing something I never thought I would.
Growing flowers.
Selling flowers.
Becoming a florist in a town where no one has ever heard of one.
I love it, though. More than I expected.
"Excuse me, ma’am?"
I snap out of my thoughts. The waitress stands beside me, looking expectant.
"Would you like to order something?"
"No, I’m good. I’m waiting for someone."
She nods and leaves.
That’s when a man walks up to my table.
I stand up, staring at him.
Her POV:
Why does he seem so familiar?
"Hello. Are you from One Fine Day Café?" he asks.
"Yes, I’m the owner," he replies, offering a handshake.
I hesitate but shake his hand. "I’m Krisha."
His POV:
She doesn’t recognize me. Wow. Okay, I get that we were thirteen, but do I really look that different?
No, scratch that—I can't wait for her to figure it out. I need to talk to her. I've been waiting years for this moment.
We sit down, order coffee.
"So, you want flower décor for your café?" I ask. "Why real flowers? They’re expensive, time-consuming. Why not fake ones?"
He smiles slightly. "I don’t like fake things—be it flowers or friends."
His words make me pause.
"And real ones are rare, you know." He leans back. "I want my café to feel dreamy, for the people who still look for real things in this world."
I smile softly. "That’s nice. But don’t you want to see samples first? A portfolio?"
"No, Krisha. I trust my choice. I checked your website. You’re good at what you do. I’ve already made up my mind."
"Oh… okay. That’s very kind of you, Mr…?"
"Suvansh Singh."
I freeze.
His name hits me like a wave.
I stare at him—really stare at him—and now it all makes sense.
"The musketeer—Suvansh?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, Miss That Suvansh."
And just like that, the warmth drains from my face.
"Well, sorry, mister. I’m not working with you. We have nothing to talk about."
I stand up, grabbing my bag.
But he reaches out and stops me.
"Kri, yaar, will you please just listen?"
"I’m not your Kri, Vanshu."
His face falls. "And I’m still your Vanshu. That’s unfair."
"I’m not unfair. You are. You said ‘Don’t talk to me ever’ and walked away. Did you forget already?"
He sighs, rubbing his face. "I didn’t forget. I regret it. I was stupid and angry, and I didn’t know how to fix it."
I cross my arms, staring him down.
"Do you have any idea how much I missed you all these years?"
He looks at me, his voice softer now. "I do. Because I missed you too. Every single day."
I look away, my chest tightening.
"Then why didn’t you try to find me?"
"I did. But you blocked me everywhere. And after high school, you left town. How was I supposed to find you?"
He sighs.
"But I still found you. Through your website. When I saw you were coming back, I got here as fast as I could."
He looks straight into my eyes. "Just to tell you how sorry I am. And how much I missed you."
His voice cracks a little. "I swear, I’ll never be such a jerk again. Can we be friends again?"
Her POV:
I stare at him, my heart tangled in emotions—anger, sadness, regret.
Grief for all the years we lost because of one stupid fight.
I shake my head. "So you finally admit you were stupid?"
He grins. "Yes. And I’m working on that."
I sigh dramatically. "Good. Now, do you forgive me?"
His eyes widen. "You? I’m the one who screwed up!"
I shrug. "Yeah, but I also lost my best friend all these years. So, let’s just forgive each other and call it even."
Before he can say anything, I pull him into a hug.
A Long awaited hug
We stand there for a long time, holding on, making up for the years of silence.
Some friendships never really die.
And some people, no matter how far they go, always find their way back home.