Dev's P.O.V.

I lay in my room, the ceiling above me an unchanging canvas, and Raj's words echo in my mind like a relentless refrain. "Selfish," he called me. The accusation stings, and I can't help but wonder, was he right? Have I always been this way, so absorbed in my own struggles that I've neglected the feelings of those around me?

Vikram's haunting presence still lingers in my thoughts. The pain he inflicted on me left scars, both seen and unseen. But then, Raj entered my life like a beacon of light, my unwavering support when darkness threatened to consume me.

I remember that day when Vikram had dared to venture into my new school, a cruel reminder of the past. But Raj was there, my guardian angel, the one who held my trembling hands, embraced me, and whispered soothing words. He listened without judgment, as I poured my heart out for hours.

Raj always seemed to understand me, even when I couldn't find the words to explain my turmoil. He'd visit my home and sit beside me in silence when talking felt impossible, yet he knew I couldn't bear to be alone. He always knew what I needed, what I wanted, but did I ever consider what he needed? What he wanted from me? Did I even make an effort to truly know him?

The weight of these questions bears down on me, and I can't escape the realization that Raj has been my anchor, my safe harbor, while I've been adrift in my own sea of emotions.

I stare at the ceiling, the white expanse reflecting the blank canvas of my mind. Raj, with his genuine smiles and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams, never failed to fill the room with warmth. But what did I give him in return? A wall, a façade of indifference to protect him, or rather, to protect myself from my own demons.

I've always been so wrapped up in my own struggles, drowning in the whirlpool of my emotions, that I never took the time to truly know Raj. It's as if I've been navigating through the labyrinth of my own fears and insecurities, oblivious to the fact that Raj had his own maze to navigate.

He's an enigma I've taken for granted, a book I never bothered to read, thinking I already knew the story. But in reality, I never delved deep into his thoughts, his hopes, his fears. I never listened to his dreams, and I never knew what made him smile when the world outside seemed to crumble.

I can't help but replay our interactions in my mind, searching for answers. Did I push him away because I wanted to protect him from the turmoil of my own emotions from all those judgmental eyes I'd seen before, from those cruel whispering that still echoes in the back of mind, or... was it because I feared getting hurt again? The line between selflessness and self-preservation blurs, and I'm left wondering if I've been nothing but self-centered.

Perhaps I believed that by distancing myself, I was shielding Raj from the chaos that swirled within me. After all, he didn't deserve to be dragged into the storm of my struggles. But as I reflect on it now, I realize that I never truly considered what he wanted. Was it my place to decide what was best for him? Was I being presumptuous in thinking that I knew what was right for us both?

The raw truth begins to unravel, and I'm forced to confront my own insecurities. Maybe, in my desperate bid to avoid getting hurt again, I inadvertently hurt the one person who had shown me unwavering support and acceptance.

Lost in my turbulent thoughts, I can't bear to stay cooped up in my room any longer. The weight of my own actions presses upon me, urging me to seek solace in the quiet embrace of the night. With measured steps, I leave the confines of my room and head towards the terrace.

The moonlight spills through the glass door, casting an ethereal glow that beckons me closer. I gently slide the door open, and as I step onto the terrace, the cool winter breeze greets me, carrying with it the promise of a fresh start. It ruffles my hair and sends a shiver down my spine, but it's a welcome sensation, grounding me in the present.

In the distance, the city's buildings stand tall, their windows lit up like a mosaic of dreams. The soft glow of streetlights paints the urban landscape, while the stars above look on, silent witnesses to the stories that unfold beneath their watchful gaze. It's a breathtaking view, a reminder that life, no matter how complex, is a part of a much larger tapestry.

Then, I notice my dad, huddled on the swing, bathed in the ethereal glow of his laptop screen.

I hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words to start a conversation. With a deep breath, I finally speak, "Dad, do you ever think we can get so wrapped up in our own lives that we forget about the people who care for us?"

He turns off his laptop and pats the empty space beside him on the swing. "Come, sit, Dev."

As I join him, I continue, "I mean, sometimes it feels like we're so self-obsessed, and we don't even realize it."

Dad gazes at the stars above and takes a deep breath. "You know, son, life can be like a whirlwind. We chase our dreams, face our fears, and sometimes, it's easy to get lost in our own struggles."

I nod, grateful for his patient understanding. "Exactly, Dad. But what if we lose sight of the people who've always been there for us?"

Dad's eyes twinkle with a hint of a smile. "That's a thought-provoking question, Dev. It's essential to pursue our aspirations, but it's equally important to appreciate those who walk this journey with us."

I feel a knot in my stomach, thinking about Raj. "I pushed him away, Dad. We grew apart because of some decisions I made, decisions I thought were right for both of us."

Dad looks at me, his eyes reflecting the understanding, "Dev, it's natural to make choices based on what we believe is best, not just for ourselves, but for those we care about. But sometimes, we can't decide what's right for others. People have their own paths to walk, their own decisions to make."

His words strike a chord, and I nod, realizing the truth in what he's saying. "So, maybe I was too quick to assume I knew what was best for both of us."

Dad's voice is reassuring, a warm anchor in the sea of my conflicting emotions. "Dev, remember this - we can apologize. Forgiveness is that person's choice, but apologizing is our duty if we've hurt them. It's a step toward rebuilding trust," he says, his eyes filled with understanding. "Sometimes, it's all we can do, and it's a sign of growth. Maybe you won't get forgiveness immediately, but it's the first step in the right direction."

Tears well up in my eyes, and I can feel the lump in my throat growing as I finally confess, "I miss him, Dad." I can't hold back the emotions any longer, and a sob escapes my lips.

In an instant, my dad shuts his laptop hurriedly, casting it aside, and he pulls me into a warm, comforting hug. It's like he instinctively knows that I need his embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, and I bury my face in his chest, letting the tears flow freely.

After a while of hugging my dad, his comforting words breaking the grip of my tears, he rubs my back and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he says, "Alright, champ, that's enough waterworks for one day. I think we've reached the crying quota for today. Let's not keep your mom waiting, We wouldn't want your mom to start thinking we're auditioning for a soap opera here. Let's go have dinner,

A small chuckle escapes me, though the tears still glisten in my eyes. I wipe them away and reply, "You go on ahead, Dad. I'll join you in a minute."

Dad ruffles my hair affectionately and gives me a lingering, thoughtful look. "I love you, Dev."

"I love you too," I reply, watching him as he heads back inside. As the door closes behind him, his words linger in the air, leaving me with a warm sense of reassurance.

I'm alone on the terrace now, the night around me quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. The echoes of Raj's accusing words refuse to fade. "You're selfish, self-centered. You've never taken the time to understand what the people around you are going through. You've never truly cared about your so-called friends."

His words cut deep, like shards of glass embedded in my heart. They've been a harsh reminder of my actions, my indifference. My past mistakes cast long shadows in my mind, making me question my own character.

I walk to the end of the terrace, the city lights below painting the urban landscape with their vibrant glow. Road Lights cast a warm, amber hue on the streets, and the cars create a river of moving lights. The city is alive, a pulsating entity in itself.

Amidst this city's bustling heartbeat, I think about Aman, the one who's been a constant presence by my side, even when words seem to elude him. But what do I truly know about Aman? Have I been repeating the same mistake I made with Raj, neglecting to understand the people who've stood by me, the ones who've shared my journey through the tumultuous waters of life?

Aman's sweet gestures, his unwavering support, they deserve my attention and understanding, just as much as Raj did. I've learned a lesson tonight, one that I can't afford to ignore any longer.

it's equally important to appreciate those who walk this journey with us

I need to be a better friend... a better person, to appreciate those who walk this journey with me. The city below may be a sprawling metropolis, but it's also filled with countless stories, each one waiting to be heard, just like Aman's.

I pull out my phone, feeling the winter breeze nip at my cheeks, and hesitate for a moment before dialing Aman's number. We mostly communicate through messages, and I realize I have hardly ever called him. Aman's voice sounds surprisingly surprised when he picks up.

"Hello," he says in a soft, almost uncertain tone.

"Hey, Aman," I greet him, my voice carrying a warmth that came naturally in that moment.

I clear my throat and speak, "Our chemistry assignment is still pending, and since it's Sunday tomorrow, I'm thinking maybe we could work on it together?"

Aman's response is a simple "mhmm."

I take a deep breath, the chill in the air contrasting with the warmth of my determination. "I'm also thinking... maybe I could come over to your place tomorrow to do the assignment together."

There's a brief pause, and I worry that I might have come across as too pushy.

I find myself stumbling over my words, unsure if I have overstepped. "It's okay if you don't want to," I begin, but before I can retract my offer, Aman's voice cuts through with a sense of urgency, "It's fine."

Relief washes over me, and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. "Great! Tomorrow it is, then," I say with a smile, grateful.

I take a deep breath, gathering my resolve, and make my way downstairs. As I enter the dining room, I find my mom and dad already seated at the dinner table. Dad pats the seat beside him, and I can't help but offer a warm smile as I take my place. Mom serves a plate of food, and I thank her, our everyday routine, a comforting constant.

But tonight, there's something different in the air. Mom looks at me with an expectant gleam in her eyes, her excitement barely contained. She leans in a bit, her voice filled with anticipation as she asks, "So, did you choose a movie yet?"

I'm momentarily confused. What movie is she talking about? My mind races to catch up, and I finally ask, "What movie, Mom?"

Her expression shifts to a mix of surprise and disappointment. "Don't tell me you've forgotten. We were planning to go to the movies tomorrow." Her words hang in the air, and I feel a pang in my heart. I had promised her a movie this weekend, hadn't I? How could I have forgotten?

I clear my throat, trying to keep my tone casual as I reply, "Oh, right. Tomorrow... um, actually, I was thinking of going to Aman's place for our chemistry assignment." My voice wavers slightly, and I offer a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. "You know, I watched so many movies at Ajit's place yesterday that I should probably take a break from movies for a month." I chuckle, hoping to make things less tense.

Mom raises an eyebrow, disappointment is evident as she asks, "Oh, you had a movie night at Ajit's yesterday?"

I nod, taking bites of the food, "Yeah, it was sort of a last-minute plan."

She sighs softly, and the words that follow carry a touch of sadness, "You used to tell me everything."

Dad, sensing the tension that has settled over the dinner table, decides to interject. With a playful grin, he says, "Well, looks like you're out of the movie plan, Dev. Don't worry, honey," he directs to my mom, "I'll take you for a movie. It's been so long since we've watched anything together. And I have a whole list of dad-approved movies waiting to be watched. Besides, our son here has too many chemistry equations to keep him busy." He chuckles, and I can't help but join in, relieved that he has managed to diffuse the tension. I know I've disappointed my mom, but at least Dad is stepping in to make her happy.