Seven years had peeled away since Aryan left his teens, marking the subtle, irreversible transition into his late twenties. This was the age of accountability, where youthful dreams must face the bedrock of reality. It was a clear night, the moon already visible even as the last hues of sunset bled into the sky.
His phone buzzed—Ayra.
Their conversations now possessed the easy, comfortable rhythm of partners who had shared a lifetime, even if they hadn't shared a bed. Aryan was teasing her, his voice playful, recounting some absurd memory from their school days. They laughed freely, the years of distance irrelevant in the current of their connection.
But then, Aryan steered the conversation, as he always did, toward the future.
"Come on, Ayra," he pressed, softening his voice with a familiar, funny earnestness. "We're about to hit the three-oh mark. Aren't we tired of being the 'best buddies' who talk every night? Be my life partner. Let's make this official."
As usual, she rejected him. Her refusal was soft, wrapped in a quick change of topic, but firm.
Aryan knew, with a certainty that was both sweet and agonizing, that Ayra harbored no feelings for anyone else, and the thought of life without him was likely unbearable for her, too. Yet, the word 'No' was all he ever received.
The rejection is about her family, not me, he reasoned, accepting the silent truth she couldn't articulate. Ayra had become a master of concealing her true emotions when family matters were involved, determined to manage the situation without burdening him. They continued their friendship, their bond so strong that their respective families had long ago accepted their closeness without conditions.
A Detour to Mumbai
A few days later, urgency shattered his routine. A mail arrived: Sonal, an old Engineering college classmate from Delhi, was hospitalized in Mumbai after a bad accident. Aryan immediately booked the fastest available itinerary, which meant a flight to Bangalore followed by a long train journey to Mumbai.
He quickly informed his parents and, by mid-noon, touched down in Bangalore. The first call, naturally, was to Ayra. She initially scoffed at the idea that he was so close, but once convinced, she insisted he come to her home.
Aryan found himself sitting across from her in her living room, two hours stolen from a twenty-hour journey. He told her about Sonal, explaining his hasty travel, but the conversation inevitably circled back to them.
For two relentless hours, he used every ounce of his famous debating and oratorical skill—the very skills he built to reach her—to convince her of the logic, stability, and enduring nature of their relationship. Ayra listened, silent and beautiful, her expression unreadable. She offered no reply, leaving him with the customary silence that masked her inner conflict.
He greeted her family, exchanging warm memories that only underscored the strength of his foundation in her life. But as the clock neared four, he had to leave.
He took a cab to the railway station, messaged Ayra as the train pulled out, and called his parents to confirm his transit. Later that night, they spoke again, their conversation winding down only when exhaustion finally claimed them.
The Breakdown in Mumbai
The next morning, Aryan met his other two college friends, Jay and Aneesh, in Mumbai. They went directly to the hospital. The shock of seeing Sonal, their vibrant classmate, lying motionless in a sterile room, was sobering.
They sat with Sonal all day, the silence heavy with worry. Jay, trying to lighten the mood, nudged Aryan. "So, did you finally see the famous Ayra? Tell us everything."
Aryan initially deflected, but under their playful insistence, he gave in, sharing the highlights of his quick two hours, the teasing, the long late-night calls. He smiled, momentarily basking in the warmth of the memory.
Then, the smile broke. The combination of Sonal's condition, the sudden vulnerability of life, and the persistent, painful rejection from Ayra—even after his two-hour plea—slammed into him. His carefully controlled emotions, usually locked down by ambition, violently erupted.
He burst into tears.
Jay and Aneesh were stunned. Aryan, the celebrated topper, rarely showed weakness. They tried to console him, knowing exactly where the pain came from: the bitter memory of his unresolved love, now exacerbated by the fragility of Sonal's life.
Just then, a nurse rushed in: Sonal was regaining consciousness. Jay immediately informed Sonal's distraught parents, who rushed into the room, followed by other concerned friends.
But Aryan couldn't stop. He stood rigid, tears still streaming down his face. A friend of Sonal's approached Jay and Aneesh, bewildered.
"Why is Aryan crying like that? What happened?"
Jay, protective of his friend, lowered his voice. "We asked him about Ayra. He remembered that one bad moment between them. It's the only crack in their whole history, but it just hit him hard."
Aryan quickly wiped his eyes, stepping forward. "It's nothing," he interrupted, forcing a dry cough. "I was alright, I just needed a moment to cry. I felt a hardness in my heart, but I'm okay now. Let's just drop it."
He needed the one person who could truly reset his emotional state. He pulled out his phone and dialed Ayra. They spoke for nearly an hour. Ayra's voice was full of warmth and affection, lifting him instantly. He felt a profound, heavenly bliss—the antidote to his loneliness.
Jay and Aneesh watched the exchange, shaking their heads in amusement.
"When are you going to marry that girl, Aryan?" Aneesh laughed.
"Convincing Ayra," Aryan replied, his confidence restored, "is a task harder than topping the state exams."
Despite his bold tone, his friends noticed the flicker of worry in his eyes. They spoke to Ayra briefly, joining in the playful efforts to push her toward commitment.
Ayra, finally moved by the shared concern and the gravity of Sonal's accident, confessed her truth to Jay.
"I do have feelings for him," she admitted quietly. "But there are reasons I can't express them." She recounted a recent family conversation: her sister had asked if she had any interest in marriage or someone specific. Ayra had merely smiled and said, "Nothing like that." Then, her mother had pressed: "What about Aryan?" Ayra had replied with a definitive, concealed "No."
They both shared a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Jay, hearing the worry in her voice, told her about Aryan's breakdown and Sonal's accident. "He's upset, Ayra. You should call him tomorrow and tell him what you need to say."
Ayra agreed. Jay and Aneesh rejoined Aryan, the three friends making plans to leave the hospital and get some air. They needed a moment of levity before facing the serious journey ahead.