In the soft glow of our bedroom, my eight-year-old self attempted the impossible task of draping Mom's vibrant dupatta as a makeshift sari. My little hands fumbled with the fabric, desperately trying to mimic the graceful folds that Mom effortlessly managed every day.

Giggles bubbled up within me as I glanced nervously at the bedroom door, making sure Mom was nowhere in sight. My heart raced with the thrill of this clandestine fashion adventure.

Just when I thought I was succeeding in my covert operation, the door burst open, and there she was – my mischievous sister, Meghna. Her laughter echoed through the room like wind chimes, and I couldn't help but blush, caught in the act of my makeshift sari experiment.

"Oh, Arya, what on earth are you doing?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, I pouted, "I just wanted to see how it feels to wear a sari, okay?"

My embarrassment must have been written all over my face, for Meghna wasted no time. She grabbed my hand, pulling me towards her. "Come on, silly. If you want to play dress-up, let's do it properly!"

With a giggle, Meghna took charge. She turned me to face her, draping the vibrant dupatta around me with a practiced ease. Then, she reached for Mom's lipstick, applying it to my lips with the finesse of an artist. My hair became her canvas as she worked her magic with the borrowed lipstick.

Finally, as I turned to look at myself in the mirror, a strange sight greeted me. The dupatta hung awkwardly, the lipstick was smudged in all the wrong places, and my hair resembled a chaotic masterpiece. Meghna burst into laughter, her amusement filling the room.

"Oh, Arya, you look hilarious!" she exclaimed, running away in fits of laughter.

Fueled by a mix of embarrassment and anger, I chased after her. Meghna's infectious laughter echoed through the hall as she sprinted away, leaving me trailing behind in my makeshift sari disaster. I followed her into the main hall where I found Mom engrossed in her dusting routine.

Breathless and red-faced, I stood there, hoping Mom wouldn't notice my chaotic appearance. But Meghna couldn't resist. She darted behind Mom and holding her arm, she exclaimed, "Mom, you won't believe what Arya's done!"

Mom turned a quizzical look on her face, dust cloth in hand. Meghna, still hiding behind her, pointed a finger at me.

"Look at her, Mom! Arya tried to be all fancy with your dupatta and lipstick. You have to see this!" 

As Mom's eyes fell upon my disheveled state, a pause hung in the air. Then, like an unexpected burst of laughter, she couldn't contain herself. The dusting cloth fell from her hand as laughter bubbled up from deep within.

"Oh, Arya!" Mom chuckled, the lines of stress momentarily erased from her face. "What have you been up to?"

There I stood in the hall, a spectacle of Meghna's creation – a dupatta draped awkwardly, lipstick smeared haphazardly across my face, and my hair tangled in ribbons like a chaotic masterpiece. 

Mom, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, managed to compose herself long enough to say, "Oh, Arya, what have you done?"

Meghna, regaining her composure, shook Mom's arm with a teasing grin. "Mom, look at her! Isn't she a masterpiece?"

Mom nodded, still chuckling. "A masterpiece indeed. Arya, come here, silly." 

With a gentle hand on my shoulder, Mom guided me toward the bathroom, her laughter echoing in the hallway. "Let me wash that off your face, darling. You look like you've been through a whirlwind."

The familiar chime of my phone cuts through the thick fog of my thoughts, pulling me out of the memories that relentlessly grip my mind. It's Raj, informing me that he'll be late, and I can head home. I lift my gaze from the screen, the world around me slowly coming back into focus.

The school courtyard is abuzz with the afternoon exodus, students dispersing in different directions like leaves caught in the wind. The noon sun showers its warmth on everything it touches, casting a golden glow over the surroundings unlike the shadows that loom within me, shadows that refuse to fade.

I tread wearily towards the waiting car, my steps heavy. The driver opens the backdoor with practiced efficiency, but my attention is abruptly diverted as my eyes catch sight of a white car gliding to a stop nearby. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I'm frozen.

Ahan. 

his car parked just a few steps away.

He doesn't notice me; his focus is on the school's gate. I watch him as he gets out of the car, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the roof, anticipation etched on his face. For a moment, I wonder if he's moved on. Does he still carry the burden of Meghna's memory, or has time managed to soften the edge of his pain?

Frozen in that moment, I contemplate approaching him. Before I can decide, a subtle smile stretches across Ahan's face. My curiosity piqued, I follow his gaze to the entrance of the school. There, I find Asim emerging, waving at Ahan with a warmth that catches my attention.

As Asim's eyes meet mine, a sudden pause interrupts his wave. His hand lingers in mid-air, and I can almost feel the tension in the air. Ahan, noticing Asim's abrupt pause, turns to follow his gaze, and confusion clouds his expression as he spots me

The air between us shifts as Ahan's gaze meets mine, and the sparkle in his eyes fades like a fleeting mirage. He lowers his eyes, perhaps not prepared for this unexpected encounter. "Hey," he says softly, the syllables hanging in the air.

I respond in a hushed tone, almost a whisper, "Hey." Uncertain if my voice can even penetrate the chaos of students around us. The invisible thread connecting our pasts tightens, and right now, words seem both insufficient and overwhelming.

Asim stops near Ahan, his eyes shift between us, catching the subtle nuances of our interaction. 

Ahan's fingers fidget with his glasses, a nervous energy betraying the composed exterior. He takes them off, twirling them in his hands, and attempts the question again in his soft voice, "How are you?" 

I respond with a nonchalant shrug, "Perhaps the same as you. How are you doing?"

I can sense the hesitancy in Ahan's eyes as he raises them to meet mine. No words escape his lips. Instead, a subtle nod is his only response.

sim and Ahan stand there, caught in a palpable tension, their eyes briefly meeting mine before diverting away as if seeking refuge from the discomfort.

Awkward silence settles like a thick fog, shrouding us in an uncomfortable stillness. The sun casts long shadows across the school courtyard,.

Then, Asim breaks the silence with a casual remark. "Let's leave; we're going to be late for 'The Monster In The Dark 3.' And then you'll be complaining I made you late." His playful nudge to Ahan only adds to the surreal scene unfolding before me.

Ahan responds with a chuckle, a sound that cuts through me like a knife. The sting hits me directly in the heart, a sudden jolt that feels like acid churning in my gut. The casual camaraderie between the brothers, the shared plans for a mundane outing, it all feels like a cruel taunt. The world has moved on, and here I am, trapped in the ruins of a past that refuses to fade.

Unable to contain the acid welling up within me, I blurt out, "Oh wow, you guys are going for movies?" The words escape my lips, but they sound harsh, laced with a bitterness I can't conceal. 

"You guys should hurry up. I bet, Ahan doesn't want to miss 'The Monster In The Dark 3,' right?" My tone slices through the air like a razor.

Ahan's glasses pause in mid-air, caught in the momentary freeze and Asim's smile vanishes. Ahan's eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of something in those depths – a struggle, a hesitation. He inhales deeply, as if preparing to utter words that refuse to find a voice. His tongue darts out, nervously licking his lips as if the taste of truth is bitter, too bitter to articulate. And as if the right words refuse to fit in his mouth. Why would they, after all?

How can he stand here, pretending like Meghna's memories don't cast its haunting shadows?

I step forward, my eyes fixated on Ahan's face. "Which movie theatre are you guys going to? Same Pragya Halls where Meghna and you used to go?" 

Ahan finally raises his eyes, and there, in those tearful depths, I see a reflection of the pain that binds us. It clenches my heart, a moment of raw vulnerability that pierces through the walls I've built.

What the hell is wrong with me? I feel a knot tightening in my stomach, a mixture of regret and frustration. This was not how I intended this encounter to unfold.

Suddenly, Asim's grip tightens on my arm, and before I can register what's happening, he pulls me away from Ahan, ignoring Ahan's desperate plea to stop. The force with which Asim moves me is jarring, and I find myself tossed against a tree, the rough bark digging into my back.

"What the fuck are you trying to do?" Asim says furiously, his tone aggressive, and his eyes digging into mine with an intensity that matches the force of his grip.

"What do you mean?" I snap back, refusing to cower under his anger. Asim's grip feels like a vice, but I stand my ground, my own anger simmering beneath the surface.

"You damn well know what I mean," Asim breathes out the words, emphasizing each syllable, his jaw tightening with restrained fury.

I step forward, locking eyes with him, my breath quickened by anger. "He had the audacity to claim he loved her forever, to be her forever, and now he's casually heading to the movies like nothing happened, like Meghna's life was a mere intermission in his grand drama," I say, almost inches away from Asim, the intensity of my words matching the fire in my eyes.

Asim's eyes narrow, and his grip on my arm tightens further. "He's trying to move on, Arya. Can't you see that?" Asim's words cut through the air, a brutal reminder of the reality I've been desperately avoiding.

I push away from the tree, breaking free from Asim's hold, frustration boiling within me. "Moving on? Just like that?" I scoff, my voice a mix of disbelief and fury. "As if Meghna was never a part of his life, as if her existence meant nothing. He can't erase her from his memory, and I won't let him pretend like Meghna's life held no significance."

Asim's frustration boils over, and he delivers a powerful punch to the bark of the tree near my face. The impact reverberates through the trunk, and a few leaves flutter down, shaken loose by the force. I don't even flinch, my gaze unwavering, locked on his enraged eyes.

"Leave him alone, Arya. He's been through enough," Asim implores, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. "You've seen your sister die once, but I've been witnessing him die every single day for the past three months. I won't let you hurt him anymore."

The intensity in his voice matches the storm brewing within me. I stand my ground, unyielding, as if the roots of the tree have anchored me in defiance. "And what about Meghna? What about her pain and the suffering she endured?" I retort, my words cutting through the charged air.

Asim's jaw tightens, his eyes reflecting the pain etched on his brother's face. "Meghna's gone, Arya. You can't keep dragging him into the abyss of grief. He's trying to find a way out, a way to live despite the haunting memories. Can't you see that?"

My resolve remains unshaken. "He doesn't get to escape the consequences of his choices. Meghna didn't deserve that, and I won't let him forget her just like that."

Asim's gaze falters for a moment. "Arya, nothing can bring her back. You can't undo the past. But you can choose what you do with the present."

The truth in his words lands heavily, and for a brief moment, the anger in me wavers. Asim steps closer, his eyes searching mine for understanding. "I won't let you destroy him, Arya. Not when he's trying to piece together the remnants of his shattered world."

The leaves rustle above us, and a gentle breeze of the changing seasons swings my hair. 

Asim's voice cuts through the charged air, a plea heavy with sorrow. "Let her go, Arya. She's gone. You can't ruin your present, your future."

My breath hitches in my throat, and I grind my teeth, the dam holding back tears threatening to break. "Don't you think I've tried?" The words escape, edged with frustration and pain. "Don't you think I want to get over, move on, or whatever the hell that means? I want to do that too."

I clench my fists, the turmoil within me threatening to overflow. "But I couldn't. Every damn time I close my eyes, she's there. I see her face. It haunts me, Ahan. It makes me feel like if I had tried a bit harder, fought a bit harder, or done anything else, I could have saved her, protected her. She'd still be here."

The vulnerability in my words echoes in the stillness of the courtyard, each syllable heavy with the weight of regret. "I told her not to worry, promised her that I'd make everything right, but I couldn't. It haunts me all the time."

My voice wavers, the emotion threatening to choke me. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my inner ghosts refuse to be silenced. Asim watches me, his eyes holding a depth of understanding.

"You did everything you could Arya. Trust me, holding onto this pain will cause only pain," Asim says softly, his words a gentle reminder cutting through the turmoil. "You can't change the past, Arya. Meghna wouldn't want you to be trapped in this endless cycle of guilt and regret."

The floodgates I've desperately held shut finally give way, and tears stream down my face like a torrential downpour. I can't contain the weight of grief any longer. The anguish that has festered within me erupts, and I crumble into Asim's chest.

His embrace is a hesitant haven, and as I lean into him, I feel the warmth of his arms tentatively lifting, encircling me in a cocoon of solace. The world blurs through the veil of my tears, and I sense Asim's face lowering, his cheek resting on the crown of my head.  I can feel his chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm of his breath a grounding force. The hug tightens, an unspoken reassurance in the silent language of comfort.