The invitation arrived on a crisp autumn morning, tucked between the pages of a business magazine on Aarohi Deshmukh’s desk.

It was elegant, printed on thick ivory paper, with gold lettering that shimmered under the soft office light.

Batch of 2013 – 10-Year School Reunion
Venue: The Grand Orchid Banquet, Mumbai
Date: Saturday, 7:00 PM

Aarohi ran her fingers over the words, feeling an unexpected tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go.

A decade had passed since she last walked the hallways of St. Mary’s High School. A decade since she had packed away childhood memories, some cherished, some painful, and stepped into the ruthless world of corporate law.

But there was one memory, or rather, one person, that still lingered in the back of her mind.

Ishaan Mehta.

Her best friend. Her almost something.

The boy she had walked away from without an explanation.

Aarohi exhaled slowly, staring at the invitation. Maybe it was time to finally face the past.

***

The Grand Orchid Banquet was buzzing with laughter, old friendships rekindling over glasses of champagne and endless storytelling.

Aarohi entered in a navy-blue satin dress, her hair pulled into an elegant bun, exuding the confidence of a woman who had spent years in courtrooms, dismantling arguments with razor-sharp precision.

But here, among familiar faces, she felt like a teenager again.

She exchanged pleasantries, forcing smiles, her eyes subconsciously scanning the crowd.

And then—she saw him.

Ishaan.

He stood near the bar, laughing at something, his head thrown back the same way she remembered. He looked different—taller, broader, his sharp jawline dusted with stubble—but his eyes were the same. Warm. Inviting.

Aarohi’s breath caught.

Ten years. Ten years since she had last seen him.

And just as she turned to slip away, he looked up—

Their eyes met.

For a moment, the noise of the reunion faded, the chatter dissolving into the background.

Then, slowly, Ishaan started walking toward her.

“You actually came.”

His voice was the same. A little deeper, more refined, but still carrying that teasing lilt she had once known so well.

Aarohi forced a smile. “I did.”

Ishaan’s gaze held hers, unreadable. “Didn’t think reunions were your thing.”

She hesitated. “They aren’t.”

A beat of silence.

Then, he chuckled, shaking his head. “Still as mysterious as ever, huh?”

Aarohi let out a small laugh, but it lacked warmth. Because mystery was just another word for all the things she had left unsaid.

They stood there, the weight of a decade stretching between them, neither knowing what to say next.

Finally, Ishaan exhaled, tilting his head toward the balcony. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”

The Mumbai skyline glittered beyond the balcony, the cool night air carrying the faint scent of sea salt.

Ishaan leaned against the railing, hands in his pockets, eyes on her.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what happened, Aarohi?”

Her throat tightened. “What do you mean?”

His gaze sharpened. “I mean, one day we were inseparable, and the next… you were gone. No calls. No messages. Nothing.”

Aarohi looked away, her fingers gripping the balcony’s edge. She had always known this moment would come, but she wasn’t prepared for the sheer ache in his voice.

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to disappear.”

Ishaan let out a dry laugh. “Really? Because it felt pretty intentional.”

Aarohi closed her eyes. It was.

Because back then, she had been terrified.

***

High school had been their world.

Aarohi and Ishaan—the unstoppable duo. Best friends since they were twelve, finishing each other’s sentences, stealing each other’s lunch, existing in a bubble that felt untouchable.

Until, one day, it wasn’t.

It happened during their final year. The night of the farewell party.

Ishaan had pulled her onto the rooftop of the school, away from the noise, away from the crowd.

And then—

“Aarohi, I think I’m in love with you.”

She had frozen.

Because she had felt it too.

But love? Love wasn’t safe. Love wasn’t a guarantee.

She had watched her mother crumble after her father left. She had seen how love turned into weakness, into abandonment.

And so, she ran.

Left without a word. Ignored his calls. Ignored the guilt.

Convinced herself it was for the best.

***

“I was scared,” she admitted now, voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that if I stayed… I would lose you.”

Ishaan’s expression shifted—anger fading into something more vulnerable. “You lost me anyway, Aarohi.”

Her chest tightened. “I know.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then, Ishaan exhaled.

“Do you know how long I waited for an explanation?” His voice was quiet, but it cut through the air. “How many times I wondered what I did wrong?”

Aarohi’s eyes burned. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ishaan studied her, searching for something in her face. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed.

“I spent years being angry,” he admitted. “But maybe… maybe I just missed my best friend.”

Aarohi swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I missed you too.”

His lips curled slightly. “You owe me ten years’ worth of conversations, you know.”

She let out a soft chuckle, the weight on her chest finally lifting. “Then let’s start now.”

Ishaan held out his hand, and for the first time in a decade—

She took it.

And just like that, the past no longer felt like a wound.

It felt like a second chance.

***

Rebuilding a friendship after ten years wasn’t easy. But Aarohi and Ishaan? They had never done things the easy way.

After the reunion, they exchanged numbers again—not like strangers, but like two people who never should have lost touch in the first place.

They started with texts.

At first, cautious.

Ishaan: You still hate pineapple on pizza?
Aarohi: Obviously. I have taste.
Ishaan: Debatable.

Then, the texts turned into late-night calls.

Ishaan: Remember when we snuck into the library after hours?
Aarohi: How could I forget? You knocked over an entire shelf of books.
Ishaan: Okay, but in my defense, you dared me to climb it.
Aarohi: And you were dumb enough to actually do it.

They slipped into old rhythms effortlessly. But something was different.

Because now, there was awareness.

A lingering pause before they hung up. A hesitation in their laughter. The way Ishaan’s voice softened when he said her name.

They were friends again. But could they be something more?

***

One evening, Ishaan texted her:

Ishaan: Are you free this Saturday?
Aarohi: Depends. Why?
Ishaan: Let’s meet. No excuses this time.

She agreed. But the entire drive to the café, her heart pounded.

Was this just two old friends catching up? Or was it something else?

When she arrived, Ishaan was already waiting, leaning against his car, hands in his pockets. He looked nervous.

And that’s when she knew—this wasn’t just a casual hangout.

They spent hours talking, laughing, reminiscing. But there was a shift.

Every time their hands brushed, neither of them pulled away. His gaze lingered on her lips a second too long. And when he walked her to her car at the end of the night, there was an unspoken question between them.

Neither of them said it out loud. Not yet.

But the line between friendship and love?

It was already starting to blur.

Their “friendship” continued for months.

Dinners that felt suspiciously like dates. Inside jokes that made people around them wonder. The way Ishaan would casually wrap his jacket around her shoulders when it got cold.

Then, one night, Aarohi found herself staring at her phone, debating.

Was she imagining things? Or was Ishaan waiting—just like her?

Before she could think twice, she typed:

Aarohi: Can we talk?

His response came instantly.

Ishaan: Always.

She hesitated. Then, finally, she asked:

Aarohi: Have we been dating this whole time without realizing it?

She stared at the screen, heart hammering. Then—three dots appeared.

And Ishaan replied:

Ishaan: I was hoping you’d notice.

***

A week later, they stood on the same rooftop where Ishaan had once confessed all those years ago.

Only this time, Aarohi wasn’t running.

“I was scared of love back then,” she admitted, voice soft. “But not anymore.”

Ishaan smiled, reaching for her hand. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go this time.”

And when she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his, she realized—

This wasn’t just rekindled friendship.

It was the love story that had always been waiting for them.