Chapter 1 : Lost, But Not Forgotten

I was helpless.
Wandering here and there, searching for something I couldn’t name.
There was no one to talk to. No one who would understand.

My life was once filled with laughter—carefree, bright, and endless. But now, I was a shadow of what I used to be. A ghost trapped in memories.

And then, I saw her.

Darshini.

The past rushed in like a tidal wave, drowning me in moments I had tried to forget. Every memory of her replayed in my mind, rewinding again and again, showing me everything I had lost.

Darshini—the coolest, bravest person I had ever met. Back in school, she was more than just a friend; she was my guide to a world I never knew existed. Every moment with her was thrilling—learning things I never would have known, seeing life from her eyes.

But beneath her boldness, Darshini carried a sorrow she never spoke of. She was a motherless child, yet she never complained. She laughed, she lived, and without ever trying, she taught me the meaning of resilience. I admired her. Maybe even envied her strength.

And then, I left.

Not by choice, but by circumstances beyond my control. I moved far away, leaving behind the one person who made my world brighter. I had so much to say, so much to promise. But I didn’t. Instead, I convinced myself she would be better off without me—that she didn’t need another goodbye in her life.

I was wrong.

Years passed. Life happened. And now, fate—or something crueler—had brought us back together. But not in the daylight of laughter and school hallways. This time, we met in the light of darkness.

She had changed. Or maybe I had.

We sat in silence.

The kind that stretches thick and uneasy between two people who once knew each other too well. It wasn’t until I cracked a joke—something random, something meaningless.

Still, silence. Awkward, heavy.

Only the sound of rushing waves filled the space between us. The salty breeze carried the distant echoes of street vendors calling out to tourists, their voices blending with the endless roar of the ocean.

We were in Marina Beach, Chennai. A place that should have felt warm and familiar. Yet, it almost felt like a dream—a strange, surreal moment where time had frozen, but everything had changed.

We were so close. And yet, so distant.

Then she spoke, her voice quieter than I remembered, hollow in a way that stung.

"I wouldn’t have remembered you if you hadn’t come to my house looking for me."

The words hit harder than I expected.

"I missed you," I admitted, my voice almost breaking. "I missed our time, our memories, our stupid little adventures."

She laughed. But it was dry, empty—nothing like the laughter I once knew.

"Is that so?" she asked, her expression unreadable.

"Yes," I replied, hoping she could hear the truth in my voice.

It was an awkward conversation. After all, it had been a freaking ten years.

"When did you come to Tamil Nadu—Chennai?" she asked, catching me off guard.

"A week ago," I said, hesitating. "Just visiting my grandma."

She simply nodded. "Oh."

The silence crept in again, lingering like an old wound that refused to heal.

I forced myself to ask, "How have you been?" The words felt heavier than they should have.

She exhaled, staring at the waves. "Fine… but there are moments I just want to break down." She paused, then added in a quiet voice, "But I survived."

Her words hit me in places I didn’t know still ached.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Fine," I replied automatically. A lie. Maybe she knew.

For a moment, I could see it in her eyes—the unspoken questions, the weight of all the years between us. She wanted to ask. About everything. About what happened. About why I left the way I did.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she sighed and stood up. "I have to go. There’s an important meeting I can’t miss."

I nodded, but something inside me screamed.

I wanted to stop her. To tell her to stay. To cry on her shoulder and let everything out—everything I had been holding inside for years.

But I didn’t.

Maybe someday.
Maybe sometime.

I stayed back, watching as she walked away, leaving me tangled in my own thoughts.

So many things I wanted to say.
So many things left unsaid.

A sigh escaped my lips as my phone buzzed—Grandma calling. I turned away from the waves and made my way home.


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Chapter 2: A New Morning, A Familiar Face

But sleep didn’t come easy that night.

I tossed and turned, my mind replaying our conversation over and over. Is that really what I wanted to say to her? The question haunted me.

Morning came too soon.

I was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when Grandma called from downstairs.

"Come down, someone’s here to meet you!"

Dragging myself out of bed, I went down—only to stop in my tracks.

Darshini.

A spark of warmth spread through me, a feeling I hadn’t realized I missed.

"How lucky I am," I muttered under my breath, almost smiling.

Grandma, sensing something, left us alone.

Darshini gave a small, apologetic smile. "Hi… Sorry about yesterday. I left all of a sudden. It was urgent," she explained, hesitating before asking, "Can you forgive me?"

I blinked, a little surprised by her words.

"You don’t have to apologize. I understand. Life gets hard after getting a job. It’s difficult to keep up with everything."

She nodded, relieved.

"Come on, let’s talk in my room."

She hesitated for a moment.

But then, she followed me.
The air between us was thick with unspoken words as we stepped into my room. Darshini hesitated at the door, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse. It was as if she was unsure whether stepping inside meant stepping back into the past she had long buried.

“Come in,” I said softly.

She finally moved, settling onto the chair near my desk while I sat on the bed. For a moment, we just looked at each other. Not as childhood friends, but as strangers trying to piece together a past that felt so distant.

“You changed,” she murmured, her gaze scanning me.

“So did you.”

She let out a small laugh—empty, yet familiar. “Well, life does that.”

I hesitated before asking, “Did it get better?”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know… maybe in some ways. But in others, it just got harder.”

I swallowed, unsure how to respond. This wasn’t the Darshini I knew—the girl who never let life knock her down, the girl who laughed through pain. But time had changed her, just as it had changed me.

And yet, a part of me still wanted to hold on to what we once had.


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Chapter 3: The Unfinished Goodbye

Sitting across from each other, I knew we were both thinking of the same thing—our last meeting before I left.

“I waited,” she finally said.

The words hit me harder than I expected.

“For what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“For you to say something before you left,” she admitted. “But you never did.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, guilt settling deep in my chest. “I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of saying goodbye. Of hurting you.”

She laughed again, but this time, there was bitterness laced in it. “So, you left me without a word and thought that wouldn’t hurt?”

I had no answer.

She stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. “Maybe some things are better left unsaid.”

But were they?


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Chapter 4: Echoes of Yesterday

The next few days passed in a blur. I wanted to reach out to Darshini, but something held me back—fear, maybe, or the feeling that I had already lost my place in her life.

Then, one evening, as I was walking back from the market, I saw her.

She was sitting alone at a small tea shop, staring at her phone. For a brief moment, I considered walking away.

But then she looked up.

And for the first time, I saw something in her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before—loneliness.

Without thinking, I walked over and sat across from her.

She didn’t push me away.

She just sighed and said, “You always had bad timing.”

I smiled. “Some things never change.”


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Chapter 5: The First Crack

Our conversations became easier after that.

Slowly, we started spending more time together—short walks, random tea breaks, small talks about nothing and everything.

And then, one evening, as we sat near the beach again, she finally asked:

“Did you ever regret leaving?”

I turned to her, surprised by the question. “Every day.”

She let out a small sigh, playing with the sand beneath her fingers. “Then why didn’t you come back?”

I had no answer.

Maybe I was just a coward.


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Chapter 6: The Things We Hide

Darshini never spoke much about her life after I left.

But one evening, as we walked past a quiet street, she finally said, “I had to grow up too fast.”

I glanced at her, waiting for her to continue.

“My dad remarried,” she said flatly. “I didn’t fit in with his new family, so I left home as soon as I could.”

The weight of her words sank in.

“I had no idea…”

“Of course, you didn’t.” Her voice was softer now, no anger, just exhaustion.

I wanted to say something—anything—to comfort her. But I knew words wouldn’t fix what had already been broken.

So, I just walked beside her, silently promising myself that this time, I wouldn’t leave.


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Chapter 7: When the Walls Crumble

One night, as we sat on my grandmother’s porch, she finally asked me something I had been dreading.

“Why did you really leave?”

I knew she didn’t mean the physical distance.

She meant—why did I choose to leave her?

I swallowed hard. “Because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That if I stayed, I would see you suffer… and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

She stared at me for a long time. “That’s a stupid reason.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I know.”

For the first time, she reached out and placed her hand over mine.

“I was never angry that you left,” she whispered. “I was angry that you never let me be part of your choice.”

And just like that, the years between us melted away.


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Chapter 8: The Choice We Never Made

The past was still there, lingering between us.

But now, it wasn’t as painful.

We spent more time together, laughing like we used to, finding comfort in the familiarity we had thought was lost.

But I knew my time in Chennai was running out.

And this time, I wouldn’t leave without a choice.


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Chapter 9: The Second Goodbye

The day before I was supposed to leave, we sat by the sea once again.

I turned to her and asked, “If I had stayed, do you think things would have been different?”

She smiled faintly. “No.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Because you were meant to leave back then. Just like now, you are meant to leave again.”

I looked down, the weight of her words settling in my chest.

“But this time, I don’t want to leave without knowing what we are.”

She turned to me, her expression unreadable. “We are what we always were—two people who found each other, even when we thought we never would.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted.

But maybe, it was the answer I needed.


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Chapter 10: The Light of Darkness

The day I left, she didn’t come to say goodbye.

At first, I thought it was because she didn’t care.

But then, as I sat in the car, my phone buzzed.

A message from Darshini.

"Some people don’t need goodbyes. They just need to know they’ll always find their way back to each other."

And for the first time in years, I smiled.

Because I knew—no matter where life took us, we were never truly lost.

Because in the light of darkness, we had already found each other once.

And maybe, just maybe, we would again.

Moral of the story:-
Some friendships don’t require daily conversations—just one heartfelt hug is enough to make everything right again.


~THE END~