The rain poured down heavily, drenching the streets in a melancholic melody. As I sipped my lukewarm coffee in the dimly lit café, the scent of nostalgia mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed beans. The soft hum of jazz music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the rhythmic tapping of raindrops against the glass window. My fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of my cup, lost in thoughts of yesterday.

It had been twelve years.

Twelve long years since I had last seen him—Aarav.

The boy who once knew me better than I knew myself. The boy who was my safe place, my comfort, my laughter, my everything. And yet, life had its cruel way of drifting people apart. We lost touch after school, and despite the occasional urge to reach out, I never did. Maybe I was afraid. Afraid that the person I once knew no longer existed. Afraid that time had changed him in ways I wouldn’t understand.

And then, as if the universe had grown tired of my reluctance, there he was.

Standing just a few feet away from me.

Aarav.

His presence felt like a shockwave, pulling me out of my trance and back into reality. He had changed, and yet, something about him was still the same. The sharp edges of adulthood had refined his once-boyish face, but his eyes—those familiar, warm brown eyes—still carried the same spark I remembered.

For a moment, time stilled. The café, the rain, the world—it all blurred into insignificance.

I hesitated, my heart pounding against my ribs. Should I call out to him? Would he even remember me? What if he had moved on completely, leaving our friendship buried in the past?

But then, as if sensing my gaze, his eyes met mine.

And just like that, the years melted away.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. "Is that really you, Aisha?"

His voice—richer, deeper—still carried the same warmth that once soothed my worst days.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. "In the flesh."

Aarav chuckled, stepping closer. "Wow. I—I can't believe it’s actually you. After all these years..."

The weight of unspoken words lingered between us. We had so much to say, yet neither of us knew where to begin. The past felt like a distant echo, yet standing here, it felt closer than ever.

He gestured toward the empty chair in front of me. "Mind if I join you?"

I shook my head. "Please."

As he settled in, the air between us was thick with unsaid emotions. For a while, we simply stared at each other, drinking in the reality of this moment.

"You look... different," he said, his gaze soft yet searching.

"So do you."

A brief silence. Then, Aarav exhaled a laugh. "God, this is so weird. We used to be inseparable, and now we don’t even know where to start."

I chuckled. "I know. It’s surreal."

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "So... what happened to us? We promised we’d never lose touch."

The question hung heavily between us. I looked down at my coffee, stirring the liquid mindlessly. "Life happened, I guess."

Aarav nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. Life."

For the next hour, we talked. About where we had been, what we had done, the dreams we had chased, the ones we had abandoned. He told me about his career, his struggles, his victories. I told him about mine. It was strange, how easy it was to slip back into this rhythm, as if we had never been apart.

But there were things we didn't say.

The pain of our sudden distance. The countless nights I had wanted to call him but never did. The guilt of letting go of something that once meant everything.

And then, as if reading my thoughts, Aarav spoke, "Do you ever regret it?"

I looked at him, my throat tightening. "Regret what?"

"Letting go. Losing touch."

I sighed. "Every single day."

Aarav's gaze softened. "Me too."

For the first time in years, I allowed myself to be vulnerable in front of him.

"I missed you, Aarav," I whispered.

His expression flickered with something deep, something real. "I missed you too, Aisha. More than you know."

Aarav exhaled, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table, a nervous habit I still remembered from our school days. “You know, I used to type out messages to you,” he admitted, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Long ones. But I never hit send. I’d just stare at the screen, then delete them.”

My heart clenched. “Why?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I guess... I was afraid you had moved on. That you didn’t need me anymore.”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “That’s ironic. I used to do the same thing.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Guess we were both idiots, then.”

“Completely.”

A comfortable silence stretched between us, the weight of lost years pressing down yet not suffocating us anymore. The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle, the soft patter against the window soothing. I watched Aarav, his presence no longer a distant memory but something tangible, real.

“I don’t want to lose this again,” he said suddenly, his voice firm. “Not this time.”

I met his gaze, my heart lighter than it had been in years. “Then let’s not.”

And just like that, we chose to begin again.