"क्या हुआ असर तेरे साथ रह कर ना जाने
कि होश मुझे ना रहा
लफ़्ज़ मेरे थे ज़ुबाँ पे आ के रुके
पर हो ना सके वो बयाँ "

The day had been restless for Shubman. He had woken up determined, finally ready to confront the feelings he had buried for years. Aarohi had left pieces of herself in his life that no one else could fill, and after their conversation last evening, he knew he couldn’t let her leave without telling her. It wasn't easy to gather that courage to say it out to her, but for her he would.

He spent hours walking along the streets of Bali, rehearsing the words in his head. The weight of his emotions felt heavy, but the thought of losing her again was unbearable.

When he returned to the hotel late in the afternoon, his heart felt lighter. He was ready. But as he reached the lobby, he couldn’t find her anywhere.

“Excuse me,” he said to the receptionist, trying to keep his voice calm. “Do you know where Miss Aarohi is?”

The receptionist offered a polite smile. “Oh, she just left a while ago.”

Shubman froze. “Left?” he repeated, the word catching in his throat.

“Yes, she checked out a while ago ” the receptionist said. “She stopped by and asked where you were. When I told her you weren’t here, she left this note for you.”

She handed him a small folded piece of paper. Shubman unfolded it with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.

---

I’m leaving for India.
Socha jaane se pehle ek baar mil lu.
Wait kar leti, but flight nikal jaegi. Mumma daategi phir :)
Khush rehna. Play well, India needs to win. You need to win.
Aur zyada tension mat lena. Someone out there is praying for you.
Kismat mein hoga toh phir milenge, Shubi.
Bye.

---

The note felt heavier than it should have. Shubman’s grip tightened around it as he reread the words, his mind screaming at him for not being there when she came looking for him. It was a habit of his. For blaming himself even when he wasn't.

“She seemed like a good friend,” the receptionist said, breaking through his thoughts.

Shubman nodded mutely, his voice stuck somewhere in his throat.

“Oh, and she left this in her room by mistake,” the receptionist added, holding out a small ring. “Would you mind returning it to her when you meet her next?”

Shubman took the ring from her, his fingers brushing over its smooth surface. It was a simple silver band, worn and familiar. He recognized it instantly—it was the one she always wore, a gift from her father.

His chest tightened as he stared at the ring, feeling the weight of everything she hadn’t said in the note.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, shoving the ring into his pocket.

---

Back in his room, Shubman sat by the window, staring out at the ocean as the sun began its descent. The note lay on the table beside him, her words echoing in his mind.

He felt a deep ache, a mixture of guilt, regret, and longing. Aarohi had been right there, waiting for him, and he had missed his chance.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket, turning it over in his hand. It wasn’t just a ring—it was a reminder of everything she had endured, of the life she had lived without him by her side.

“Kismat mein hoga toh phir milenge,” he whispered to himself, her words tasting bittersweet.

But for the first time in years, he didn’t want to leave things to fate.

He wanted to fight for her, for the friendship they had lost, for the love he had never confessed.