The school corridors felt louder than usual, even though the bell hadn't rung yet. Or maybe it was just Riya's heartbeat, echoing in her ears like a war drum. She stepped in, her bag slung over one shoulder, headphones on, but no music playing. Just silence… and thoughts.
She walked past a group of juniors, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Familiar faces smiled at her, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were scanning—no sign of Vishal, no sign of Aman. Good.
Not yet, anyway.
As she stepped into class, Sana waved her over.
Sana: "You okay? You look like you didn't sleep."
Riya (softly): "I didn't."
Sana frowned but didn't push. She knew better than to ask too many questions before Riya was ready.
But before they could sit, a voice interrupted the moment.
Aman: "Morning, Riya."
He dragged out her name slightly, as if testing how much weight it still carried after last night's chat. Riya turned to him, calm but with a sharp edge in her voice.
Riya: "Did Vishal tell you to do this?"
Aman blinked, caught off guard. Clearly, he wasn't expecting her to be this direct in public.
Aman: "What?"
Riya: "Text me. Say all that stuff. Try to play savior. Was it Vishal's idea?"
His smirk faltered for half a second before returning.
Aman: "Believe it or not, I have my own brain. And I actually care about what happens to people I call friends."
Riya: "That's rich coming from someone who loves running his mouth."
Aman (with a small shrug): "Maybe. But you're not exactly silent either."
The classroom went quieter than usual. A few heads had turned their way, sensing the tension.
Sana gently tugged on Riya's sleeve, whispering, "Let it go."
But Riya didn't move. She wasn't angry—just… tired. Tired of the drama. Tired of being caught in the middle.
Riya (finally): "Just stay out of it, Aman. Whatever this is… it's between me and Vishal."
Aman (quietly): "I know. I just thought you deserved better."
Before Riya could reply, the teacher walked in, and everyone scrambled to their seats.
But Aman's words lingered—You deserved better.
She wasn't sure if he was talking about Vishal… or himself.
The school day dragged like a never-ending Monday.
Riya couldn't concentrate. Not during Chemistry, not during English. Even her favorite subject felt like noise. Every time she looked up, she felt eyes on her. Sometimes it was Aman. Sometimes she imagined it was Vishal.
But he didn't show up.
Not even a glimpse in the corridor. No accidental bump near the water cooler. Nothing.
It felt… intentional.
During recess, Sana pulled her aside.
Sana: "You're scaring people today."
Riya (confused): "What?"
Sana: "The way you're walking around with that stormy look. People are whispering that you and Aman fought."
Riya looked away, biting her lip. "Let them whisper."
They sat on the stairs, away from the crowd. Riya stared at the floor tiles, then finally whispered, "He said I deserved better…"
Sana: "You do."
Riya met her best friend's eyes—no sarcasm, no drama, just truth. It stung more than anything Aman had said.
Later that day, a paper note folded into a tiny square slid onto her desk during Math class. No one saw who dropped it. No name. Just one line inside:
"I didn't tell Aman to say anything. But he's right."
Her breath hitched.
She didn't need a name to know who wrote that.
Riya stared at the note, her fingers crumpling the edges before she could stop herself. Her heart was thudding in her chest like a drum she couldn't silence.
He's right.
Right about what? That she deserved better? Or that he couldn't be that "better"?
The bell rang, and the class started to file out, but Riya stayed frozen in her seat. Sana looked back at her, waiting, but Riya shook her head.
She needed a moment alone.
After a few deep breaths, she stood up, walked straight to the dustbin—and tore the note into four crooked pieces. But instead of throwing it in, she just… held them.
Each piece felt like a piece of her. Confused, angry, curious, hurt.
"Are you okay?" came a voice behind her.
She turned, expecting Sana.
But it was Vishal.
His bag was slung over one shoulder, his eyes unreadable.
Riya: "I thought you weren't in school today."
Vishal (softly): "I needed space."
She nodded. "So did I."
There was a pause—long and heavy.
Vishal: "I didn't mean to hurt you, Riya."
Riya (looking straight into his eyes): "But you did."
Silence again.
Then, Vishal took a step closer. "I'll wait for you to believe I mean what I say. And if you never do… I'll still mean it."
He turned and walked away before she could reply.
Riya stood there, four torn pieces of a note in her hand and a thousand more torn inside her body.
The soft click of the bedroom door opening was the only sound breaking the silence. Diya peeped in and saw Riya lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the fan spinning slowly above.
Diya: "So… are we going to talk, or should I pretend I didn't hear your dramatic sighing from the other room?"
Riya smiled weakly. "It's nothing."
Diya (walking in): "Nothing usually doesn't look like torn paper on the table and a face that says 'I might cry or punch someone.' Spill."
Riya sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "It's Vishal. Again."
Diya didn't roll her eyes this time. She just sat beside her, quiet, letting her speak.
Riya: "He wrote me a note. Said he's sorry, that he meant everything he said… and then he came to school just to say it again. But… I don't know if I believe him. I want to believe him, and that's the problem."
Diya (gently): "Because believing him might make you forgive him. And forgiving him might make you feel weak."
Riya looked at her sister, surprised.
Riya: "Yeah. Exactly."
Diya: "Riya… forgiveness isn't weakness. Sometimes, holding onto anger is. You don't have to go back to what was—but you do have to decide what you want now. Not what people expect. Not what your heart is screaming. What you really want."
Riya blinked away the tears forming in her eyes.
Riya (whispering): "I don't know what I want."
Diya smiled and hugged her. "Then give yourself time. No pressure. Just be honest with yourself. You're the one who has to live with your choices."
As the night grew darker, Riya lay in bed, her mind slowly quieting down. Maybe she didn't have all the answers yet.
But maybe… she was ready to find them.