Aira was moving on—
silently.
As if—
nothing had ever happened.
As if—
she had learned everything she needed to.
But one day—
something broke that calm.
She had a fight with her sister.
A small one—
but it hurt.
And in that moment—
she missed Aarohi.
Too much.
So much—
that she couldn't control herself.
She picked up her phone.
And texted.
Aira,
"Aarohi… I miss you."
The next day—
a reply came.
Aarohi,
"Sorry, but we should not talk."
Aira felt it again.
That same heaviness.
Aira,
"Sorry. I was very emotional yesterday."
And then—
she deleted her own message.
Aarohi,
"You missed me after that?"
Aira,
"I don't know why I missed you after that."
Aarohi,
"Oh. You don't have to miss me."
Aira,
"I miss you… and I always will."
Aarohi,
"We should not talk. Bye."
Aira,
"Okay. Bye."
And just like that—
it ended again.
But this time—
Aira didn't cry.
She just felt empty.
One day—
Aira found a website.
Where people could write letters—
to anyone.
Without expectations.
Without replies.
So she decided—
to write to her.
A letter.
Then another.
Then another.
Aira sent them to Aarohi.
Aarohi,
"Are there more letters?"
Aira,
"No… but if you want, I will write more."
Aarohi,
"Yes. I want to read."
Days passed like this.
Aira wrote every day.
And Aarohi read them—
but didn't reply.
Just silence.
Cold.
Distant.
Aira felt it.
And it hurt.
So she stopped.
Again.
One day—
Aira was sitting quietly.
Lost in her thoughts.
Her phone beside her.
A notification popped up.
It was Aarohi.
Aira didn't want to reply.
But she couldn't stop herself.
Aarohi,
"Hey. Can we call?"
Aira,
"Why?"
Aarohi,
"If you don't want to, it's okay. No pressure."
Aira,
"Okay."
Aarohi,
"Time?"
Aira,
"Anytime."
Aarohi,
"Okay. Anyway… do I look good in photos?"
Aira had seen her story.
She liked it.
A lot.
But—
she couldn't say it.
Aira,
"Yes."
Aarohi,
"Did you miss me? You stopped writing letters."
Aira,
"I was busy."
Aarohi,
"And now?"
Aira,
"Very busy."
Aarohi,
"So I shouldn't call."
Aira,
"No, you can. I'm always free for you."
Aarohi,
"No, you have a life."
Aira,
"You can."
Aarohi,
"Okay."
Aarohi,
"Aira… I missed you. It's late, but I have something to say."
Aira,
"Say."
Aarohi,
"On call."
Aira,
"Okay. When?"
Aarohi,
"In a few minutes."
Aira,
"Okay."
Aarohi,
"Why didn't you like my photos? If you find me pretty, then like it."
Aira,
"I felt like I shouldn't."
Aarohi,
"Why?"
Aira,
"I don't know."
Aarohi,
"Sometimes you're too afraid of your own feelings.
I don't know why I missed you…
but I miss you, my friend."
Aira,
"I missed you too."
Aarohi called.
Aarohi,
"Hey. How are you? Are you okay?"
Aira,
"Good."
Aarohi,
"I just want to tell you… I missed you so much.
I don't know why.
Did you miss me?"
Aira,
"I miss you too."
Aarohi,
"I think of you very often. I don't know why."
Aira,
"I was also thinking of you."
Aarohi,
"How is your 12th going?"
Aira,
"It's good. How is your 11th?"
Aarohi,
"Good."
They talked—
for 32 minutes.
And in those 32 minutes—
everything felt normal again.
Like nothing had ever broken.
Like nothing had ever ended.
After the call—
Aira smiled.
A real smile.
She forgot everything.
The pain.
The silence.
The distance.
Everything.
Only Aarohi—
remained.
At school—
she smiled.
At tuition—
she smiled.
Everywhere—
she smiled.
Too much.
But somewhere—
deep inside—
she was scared.
Because she knew—
this happiness—
was fragile.
And maybe—
temporary.
But still—
she let herself feel it.
Because loving her—
was something she never stopped doing.
That night—
Aira lay in her bed.
Still smiling.
Still replaying the call.
Every word.
Every pause.
Every "I missed you."
It felt warm.
Familiar.
Like nothing had ever changed.
But slowly—
that warmth started to feel different.
Heavier.
Because somewhere—
she knew this feeling.
She had felt it before.
And she knew—
where it had led her.
Her heart was happy.
But her mind—
was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not questioning.
Not stopping her.
Just watching.
As if it already knew—
what was coming next.
The next day—
she woke up smiling again.
But this time—
there was something else too.
Fear.
Not of losing her—
But of losing herself again.