I wasn’t sure why I picked up her call. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the tiny part of me that had never stopped missing her.

“Aarohi?” I said cautiously.

There was silence, then a soft laugh. “Still recognize my voice, huh?”

How could I not? This was the voice that had once been my safe space—through MBA struggles, late-night hostel whispers, and those long debates over which professor was the most clueless.

“I do,” I said, but my tone wasn’t warm. It had been years. Years since she had let me down.

“I know I should’ve been there at your wedding,” she blurted. “And I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I just… I miss you.”

I felt something tighten in my chest. Anger, nostalgia, hurt—all tangled together. I had waited for this apology for so long. But did it even matter anymore?

Still, against all logic, I heard myself say, “Let’s meet.”

⸻

Café Chronicles & Unfinished Conversations

I chose the nestle café near our old college. The one where we had spent hours bunking lectures, sipping cold coffee that tasted more like sweetened water, and making grand plans about the future—plans that didn’t include a falling out.

When I saw her, my breath hitched. She looked the same, yet different. The same messy ponytail, the same expressive eyes. But there was something in her face—hesitation, maybe regret.

For a moment, we just stared. Then she broke into a sheepish grin. “Don’t look at me like I’m a ghost. I’m very much alive.”

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to hold onto the resentment. But damn it, the way she said things still made me laugh.

“So,” I said, sitting across from her, “what’s the excuse for not being at my wedding? Make it good.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was stupid. I let my ego get in the way. I thought I was proving a point, but all I did was lose my best friend.”

I stirred my coffee, watching the milk swirl in circles. “You did.”

She flinched. “I know.”

Silence. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that held years of unspoken words.

Then, suddenly, she smirked. “Remember that time we locked the entire finance department out of the classroom just to avoid the test?”

I choked on my coffee. “Oh my God, I had forgotten about that!”

That was it. The ice cracked. The past came rushing back—not just the hurt, but the friendship, the ridiculous pranks, the support we had given each other through every breakdown, every rejection, every moment of self-doubt.

And just like that, the years apart melted away.

⸻

Memories That Refused to Fade

Aarohi and I were an unstoppable duo back in our MBA days. The professors dreaded our questions, and our friends envied how effortlessly we could ace an exam after an entire night of doing everything except studying.

I still remember the day we both got thrown out of the marketing lecture for whispering too much. Professor Mehta had finally lost his patience and yelled, “If you both think you know more than me, why don’t you go teach the class?”

So, we did. We walked to the front, took the chalk from his hand, and delivered an impromptu session on consumer behavior that had the entire class in splits.

“Get out!” he had roared, while we left the class laughing hysterically.

“You were so confident that day,” Aarohi said, snapping me back to the present.

“You were the one who started it,” I shot back.

“And you went along with it, like always.”

I paused, realizing how true that was. We had always been in sync. Until we weren’t.

⸻

Bridges Burnt & Built Again

“Swati,” Aarohi said softly, setting down her cup. “I really am sorry.”

The humor faded. The rawness in her voice made me look up.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she continued. “But at that time, I was so caught up in proving that I wasn’t dependent on anyone, that I let my pride ruin something that actually mattered.”

I took a deep breath.

“For years, I told myself I didn’t care anymore,” I admitted. “But the truth is, I did. I cared so much that it hurt. I couldn’t understand why you—of all people—would do this.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I don’t know if I can just forget everything, Aarohi,” I said honestly. “But I do know that I’ve missed you.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips.

“I’ve missed you too.”

It wasn’t dramatic. No grand gestures, no over-the-top apologies. Just two friends trying to find their way back.

⸻

A New Beginning

We spent hours at that café, laughing over old stories, catching up on the years we had lost. She told me about her struggles, I told her about mine. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

By the time we stepped out, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

Aarohi nudged me. “So… you forgive me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t push it.”

She linked her arm with mine, just like she used to back in college. “Fair. But you’re stuck with me again, Swati.”

I shook my head, smiling. Maybe some friendships don’t have an expiration date. Maybe some people are just meant to find their way back.