"Okay, bye! We’ll meet tomorrow," Aria said to her friend and colleague, signing off from the bookstore.
The Lazihead Bookstore was more than just a business to Aria—it was her heart poured into four walls lined with shelves of dreams. She had built it from scratch, starting at the young age of twenty, turning a lifelong love for books into reality. Coming from a privileged background, she could have chosen a more conventional path, something safer, but she had always wanted to create a space where stories could breathe. So, when she moved from a small village in Jaipur to New Delhi, she made it happen.
It wasn’t easy. There were days when sales barely covered rent, nights when doubts crept in like unwanted guests. But she had fought through them all, and now, five years later, her bookstore had become a quiet sanctuary for readers, writers, and dreamers alike.
Rahul, her closest friend, had been there through it all. They met at a book fair, both waiting for their friends, and bonded over their shared love for literature. That passion turned into friendship, and later, into a partnership in running the bookstore. Rahul wasn’t just a business partner—he was family. He knew when she needed coffee before she even asked, teased her relentlessly but always had her back, and never let her give up, no matter how hard things got.
But tonight, Aria wasn’t feeling like herself. A dull headache had been creeping up on her since the afternoon, and by closing time, exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She decided to call it an early night. Tomorrow was Sunday, a rare day off, and she planned to sleep in, maybe curl up with a book and let the world fade away for a while.
She had barely drifted off to sleep when her phone buzzed. Half-asleep, she reached for it, frowning at the screen.
20 missed calls from Rahul.
Her heart pounded as she sat up instantly and hit redial.
"Rahul! What happened? Why are you calling me so many times?"
"Aria, come to my house. Now."
His voice was rushed, urgent.
"What? Why?"
"There are people here for my marriage proposal, and I need you to tell me if she’s good for me or not. You’re the only one I can trust with this," he said in a hushed tone.
Before Aria could respond, she heard his mother’s voice in the background. "Is she coming too?"
Aria sighed. She was practically family to them, so of course, they expected her to be there.
"Fine, I’m coming," she muttered, already getting out of bed.
The drive to Rahul’s house was quick, but something felt strange—like a pull towards something she wasn’t expecting. As she approached the entrance, her eyes landed on a familiar figure standing by the gate. She couldn’t see the face clearly, but something about the way the person stood, the slight tilt of their head, made her stomach flip.
Before she could process it, she stepped inside.
Rahul greeted her eagerly. "Aria, meet Aadhya. She’s the one."
The words barely registered.
Her gaze had locked onto the girl sitting in the living room, her heart hammering against her ribs. The past came rushing back in an overwhelming wave, thick with nostalgia and emotions she had buried long ago.
She took a hesitant step forward, her voice cutting through the murmured conversations around her.
"Aadhya? Is that you?"
The girl turned, confused at first. Her brows furrowed as she studied Aria’s face, but then, realization hit.
"Aria?" she whispered.
And then, in an instant, they were hugging—laughter and disbelief mixing in the air around them.
"You were in Jaipur! You disappeared like you were never there!" Aadhya exclaimed, pulling back just enough to look at her.
Aria chuckled. "I got busy. Remember our plan? You’d write your book, and I’d sell them in my bookstore?"
Aadhya sighed, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. "Yeah… but things changed. I took a job, time passed, and now here I am, about to get married."
Aria’s excitement dimmed slightly. "And your book? The one you always talked about?"
Aadhya hesitated. "Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t made for it. I found a stable job, and I’m happy. Not all dreams come true, you know?"
Aria studied her closely. She seemed content, but there was something in her voice—something unfinished, like a story left unwritten.
Rahul nudged Aria playfully. "So? What do you think? Should I say yes?"
Aria smirked, pushing her thoughts aside. "She’s too good for you, so say yes before she changes her mind."
Everyone laughed, and for the moment, things felt light, easy. But as Aria looked at Aadhya again, a thought lingered in her mind.
As the night wore on, Aria and Aadhya found themselves standing by the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance. The conversations inside blurred into the background.
"Do you really not miss writing?" Aria asked softly.
Aadhya leaned on the railing, exhaling. "I do. Sometimes. But life got in the way. Stability mattered more."
Aria nodded. She understood—life had a way of making people let go of dreams. But she also knew that some dreams never truly died; they just waited for the right moment to be reignited.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. Aadhya looked at her, confused.
"What’s this?"
Aria smiled. "Something I’ve kept for years. It’s a list—our plans, our book ideas, all the things we swore we’d do."
Aadhya flipped through the pages, her fingers trembling slightly as she read the scribbled words from their teenage years. Her eyes softened, and for a moment, Aria saw something flicker—a spark of the old Aadhya, the girl who had once dreamed of filling bookshelves with her words.
"You don’t have to give up just because life took a different turn," Aria said gently. "You can still write. Maybe not for publishing, not for anyone else—but for yourself."
Aadhya swallowed hard, looking up at her old friend.
"You really think so?"
Aria nodded. "I know so."
Aadhya let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "You haven’t changed at all."
"And you have," Aria replied, nudging her. "But that doesn’t mean you have to let go of what you loved."
Aadhya smiled, her grip tightening on the notebook. And in that moment, Aria knew—this wasn’t the end of Aadhya’s story. Maybe it had just been a pause. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of a new chapter.
Some dreams fade. Some change.
And some just need a little push to come back to life.
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