[One Year Later]

No matter what, life goes on and as you move on, you'll learn to let go of the things, and people, that do not belong to you. You'll explore places and meet new people, and as you do, you'll somehow travel a distance away from your past. There's nothing – I repeat, there is nothing – you cannot overcome; when you give yourself, and your heart some time, you'll heal, no matter how scarred you are. One year can teach you a lot, and change you even more than that; I thought I wouldn't move on from the heartbreak of losing Darshan, and my three best-friends, but I did, although it did not happen at once.

I couldn't stop thinking about them, when I first moved to Singapore, and every time I made a new friend, my mind would race back to their thoughts. They weren't merely on my mind, nor did they simply reside in my heart; I found traces of them in the people I met and places I visited. They weren't the birds caged in my heart; they were the birds that soared high in the sky, and trailed behind me, wherever I went. But as I wandered around, I felt I lost them; they still lived in me, but I may have buried them down in my heart. Things and people still reminded me of them, but slowly, it stopped hurting. The thought of them still pinched my heart and twisted my stomach, but it was easier to simply brush it off. The wounds had dried and scars began fading. The memories we shared were scribbled on the walls of my heart, but the rooms of my heart were getting renovated with fresh memories from the present. That's the thing about relationships – of any kind – when you stop watering it, it dies. I won't say that the relationships I shared died, but it certainly did wilt, greatly. Moreover, I lived a fairly good life that I didn't have time to take a dig at my past, too often. Life in Singapore turned out to be much better than what I had expected; I had a decent a job, a beautiful space I could call home, friends who dealt with all my madness and most importantly – my peace of mind. Much of what I'd lost was replaced with something better, and I was grateful.

After a long day at work, I slumped down on the couch in the living room of my apartment, and chomped on a tasteless egg-sandwich I bought from the restaurant downstairs. Just that moment, my iPhone vibrated on the couch, as a notification popped up on my lock-screen; Pops had sent a picture on our family group on WhatsApp, which he named 'The Mad House'. The Chamber of Secrets Returns was no more, but my parents filled that void! Sometimes, your friends become your family, and at times, your family becomes your friends; I witnessed both. Once I licked the mayonnaise off the tip of my fingers, I opened the message he sent, which was a picture of a dozen of cupcakes he baked with mom. After Pops' retired, he helped mom with her cake business, ran a Facebook page for her and turned a section of our house into a bakery; after years of maintaining a long-distance relationship, they finally had time for each other and it sort of swept the guilt off my heart for leaving my mom behind in India. I captured a picture of the bland egg-sandwich on my plate, and sent it on the group, with a message that read – 'Stop making me jealous. I'm stuck with this :('.

Pops: We are having homemade Pizza for dinner. Yum. Yum. Yum!!!!

'I. HATE. YOU!!!!', I texted him, and a whole minute later, I received an incoming video-call from his side.

"Hello, Dityaa!", Pops exclaimed, frantically waving at the camera, and I lazily smiled at him, waving back. "Say hello to the chef for the day", Pops turned the camera in mom's direction, who chopped vegetables, swiftly. "Oh my God, pizza! Mom, you never made pizza when I was at home. You do everything for your husband; how unfair!", I complained, disappointedly. "First of all, you never appreciated my food, and secondly, when were you ever at home?", mom questioned, looking at the camera for a second. "When I visit India, you'll have to pamper me with food", I demanded of her. "Oh no, she's coming to ruin our peace of mind", Pops muttered, teasingly, under his breath and I shot a death stare at him, making him laugh. "Oh, Dityaa, I'll tell you what happened today!", Pops suddenly said, with a wide grin. "So, mom's friend visited us today because she wanted to order a cake and then—", Pops took a pause. "Here, shut up! Shut up, otherwise, you'll sleep with an empty stomach tonight!", mom threatened him, pointing the knife at him. "And then?", I giggled, sitting up straight in curiosity. "Don't!", mom ordered Pops, with a serious stare and kept her hand on her hip. "Pops, please!", I pleaded. "Her friend said that I look like a young boy, and your mom looks like a grandma", Pops revealed, and the two of us burst out laughing, deliberately, only to get on her nerves. "And Dityaa, he believed her. She's a blind woman. You know Sara Aunty, right? Her left eye is dead. She cannot even see properly, and your Papa took her words too seriously. He actually thinks he's a boy. Someone should tell him that within 3 years, his teeth will start falling off, because if I do, he'll say I'm jealous of him", mom said in one breath. "Of course, she's jealous of me. Do I even look I'm a father to a daughter? No one would believe it if I say it!", Pops said. "Oh hello, excuse me! Don't go too far. You do look like a father, from every angle", I rolled my eyes. "Probably of a five year-old", Pops guessed. "No. Stop flying. You look like a father of a daughter who is in her twenties. You're going too far from the reality", I told him, and mom snorted, on purpose, shooting a mocking look at Pops. "You won't get such lovey-dovey compliments from us. If you're dying for such comments, go to Sara's house for dinner. She'll praise you for the whole day, after looking at you with a blind eye", mom said sarcastically, and I fell back, laughing.

"By the way, Dityaa, did you talk to Darshan?", mom mentioned about him, all of a sudden, forcing the ground beneath my feet to slip off, as I wondered why would she want to talk about him, out of nowhere?! Did she find out about us, and our breakup, or something? Our parents were family friends, and chances of her finding out about our relationship through Darshan's mom existed. But I doubted if Darshan was the kind of person who'd mention about it to his parents; he was a conserved person, who always hesitated and shied away from talking about the bad times and darkness in his life with other people. But what if a year changed him, too? The thought was a pill too large to swallow. "Dityaa!", mom called out, and I shook out of my thoughts, as I felt a weird twist in the pit of my stomach, which almost made me breathless. Although I thought about him often, I never talked about him openly in a whole year, that my lips trembled when I had to take his name. "Wh---wha-what about him?", I stuttered, and felt my pounding heart. "How is he coping with life now? Is he feeling any better?", mom raised questions, which bounced straight over my head. "Why...why are you asking, suddenly?", I asked, confusedly, chewing the corner of my lip. "Did---did he say anything?", I asked her, praying from the depth of my heart that Darshan didn't talk about our broken relationship, which I hid from my parents. "No, that's why I asked you. Why would he share things with me? I called him twice this week, but he didn't talk too much. After all, how can I expect him to talk about his mental health with me? He hardly knows me. Besides, he is in a lot of pain, maybe it is difficult for him to break down his thoughts into words. Losing your mother to death is not a small thing. When I lost my mom, I was forty and I didn't get out of my shell for a whole month. He's almost half of my age, I cannot imagine how hard it must be for him", mom blabbered, and blabbered, and I gawked at thin air, shockingly; I couldn't believe what my ears heard.