"When you loves someone, it's hard to forget them"A girl thinks tears slipping down to her cheeks.
The night was quieter than usual, almost unnaturally still, as if the whole city had agreed to sleep in unison. Not even the occasional barking of stray dogs broke the silence. Viara lay on her bed, curled slightly, her face turned toward the wall. Her long black hair was fanned across the pillow in loose waves, a dark river spilling over the edge.
She hadn't moved in hours, not because she was asleep, but because her body felt heavy, her heart heavier still. The only thing that moved was her mind — restless, tumbling over the same words again and again.
"keep distance from me, I want you to hate me, Viara. I'll make sure that you hate me. I don't want you to love me, Stop loving me viara, Please… just stop."
It wasn't the first time she'd replayed that conversation, but it hurt the same every time. A boy voice, deep but trembling at the edges, haunted her like a song she didn't want to remember but couldn't forget what her Love said.
Her chocolate-brown eyes, usually warm, now looked flat and lifeless. Under sunlight, those eyes shine like melted amber, a detail Elvric used to tease her about: "Don't look at me like that, or I might actually believe in angels or maybe you are the angel! elvric's gorgeous baby angel" But tonight there was no sunlight, no angelic sparkle. Only the faint silver light from the half-open curtains fell across her face, revealing the tear tracks that glistened against her skin.
The wall clock ticked softly, each second tapping on the bruise in her heart.
Her right hand was clenched under the blanket, holding something small — the thin silver bracelet he had given her. She had told him once she didn't like silver. He had grinned, saying, "Then I'll give you something to change your mind." It had been a playful moment, but the weight of it now felt unbearable. She traced her thumb along the cool metal, as if the warmth of his touch might still be hiding in it.
The memories came without permission.
They were teenagers the first time they noticed each other differently. Before that, they were just neighbors — arguing over little things, exchanging sarcastic remarks. But that one evening changed something. It was an festival in Viara's neighborhood. Lanterns floated above the street, their warm glow painting everyone's faces gold. She remembered catching him looking at her, not with annoyance, but with quiet curiosity. He had looked away quickly, pretending to watch the fireworks.
Days later, she caught him leaning against his bike, parked near her house, pretending to scroll his phone. He hadn't even looked up when she passed, but she'd seen the faintest smile curve at the corner of his lips.
They had fought often, yes, but it was during those small moments in between that the distance began to shrink. And then, much later, it grew again — this time, not by childish fights, but by the heavy, unspoken walls life built between them.
Her pillow was damp now. She whispered into the silence, "Why can't love win? Why does it always need to be sacrificed? why there is always a boundaries? Why it's so hard to forget someone? Why we have to choose only one when we can't live without what we loves? Why?"
No one answered.
Outside, the moon had begun its slow journey westward, and the shadows in her room shifted. outside the window a slow rain started like sky is also feeling the pain of viara, once again her cheek soaked with her pain, She turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling. listening to sad songs recalling memories full of him, Somewhere out there, in the same city, Elvric was probably awake too, drowning in the same pain but refusing to let her share it. He had always been like that — choosing to suffer alone rather than let anyone see his cracks.
The hours bled into each other until the first faint hint of dawn appeared.
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The smell of chai drifted upstairs — sweet, sharp, and warm. It was her mother's way of waking up the house without knocking on the doors. Viara sat up slowly, rubbing her swollen eyes. She knew there was no way to hide them, but she also knew her parents wouldn't press. they had always been a parents who noticed more than they said.
The marble floor was cold against her bare feet as she descended the stairs. Morning light flooded the living room, far too bright after the hours she'd spent in darkness.
Her father sat at the dining table, reading the newspaper, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He looked up briefly when she entered. His eyes lingered for a moment, taking in her face, before he went back to his paper.
"So, where is Tara and Nisha?"viara ask to her mother
"Doing something they usually do, Tara is playing phone and nisha on the bed!" her mom replied dramatically
"No mom! we are not doing anything" Tara came down stairs while looking at her phone
"Yes mom! we are just discussing something important" nisha exclaimed descending the stairs
"And what is it?" their mom raised one eyebrow
"It is about what we're going to eat in today's lunch!" nisha said excitedly
The whistle of the kettle from the kitchen filled the room and with their chatter morning started. nisha come to viara and sit next to her, while Tara get toward a sofa and lay on that and look at her phone.
"Always playing the phone, you should to study and work too Tara!" viara said
"Okay I will" Tara replied with no interest
Then the landline rang — sharp, sudden. Her father reached for it, answering with a casual, "Hello?"
The tone of his voice changed immediately, softening with recognition. "Ah, Presiel… yes, tell me."
Viara paused mid-step. Presiel. The name sat in the air like a ripple on still water. She hadn't heard it in years, but hearing it now stirred something faint and uneasy. Presiel was nothing like Elvric. He was older, composed, with a presence that could silence a room without trying. Yet there was something about him — something in the way he watched people — that made her cautious.
Her mother ask to her father "who is calling you at this morning?" It's presiel" viara thinks for a momemt why did he call father an years after?" father talked a moment ago about some work Presiel wanted to discuss. Viara sat down quietly, her fingers wrapped around her cup of chai, pretending to focus on the rising steam. But her ears caught every word.
When her father ended the call, setting the receiver down, she found herself wondering why Presiel's name had to enter her morning now, when her mind was still tethered to Elvric.
She took a slow sip of chai, the heat almost burning her tongue, her gaze drifting to the sunlight spilling across the table. She knew Elvric was somewhere out there, probably with a drink in his hand instead of breakfast. She wanted to call him, to break the distance he had forced, but his words kept echoing:
"keep distance, I will make sure that you will hate me, I don't want you to love me, So just Stop loving me."
And when she is full of him yet, for the first time in weeks, another name had slipped into her story, the person she use to see full of his own work but still gave her time at the past.
"why it's so complicated? why "
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