invisible string

ten

• ADVIKA •

20 DAYS LATER…

Dear Diary…

It has been two weeks since Ishaan, err… Aadya had invited me to Amalfi Coast for her friend's wedding, which is a huge “honour” to me. I have chosen to make this stuff private because she had trusted me with her stuff. Hence, I am telling this only to you and Aarvi. Nobody else. Especially not Harsh: he's a blabbermouth.

But, this invitation to Italy has raised a question inside me.

Why would a famous person like Aadya would invite a mere student like me?

I mean, I'm sure she has a lot of fans who spam her in every way possible. She would have come across fans who are more ardent than me and who are capable of showing support more than I do. If not before, then at least, after You Belong With Me happened. But then, why me?

I did nothing to that account except assume it to be Ishaan and rant about my everyday. Is there anything else significant in this? I did that only under the assumption that I wouldn't receive any reply from that “invalid account”.

I did a simple stuff. Why would she trust me and INVITE me to her friend's wedding?

And above all, why did she come forward and take care of my travel expenses?

Either she finds me relatable to her, or she isn't Aadya. I highly believe that it is the first one.

But what if it was the second one?

Advika B…

***

THE NEXT DAY…

“I’m going to Milan, lady!” I rubbed Aarvi's nose with my index finger, vibing to I Can Do It With A Broken Heart and packing for my trip to Milan to meet Ishaan, err… Aadya.

Aarvi, who was in her regular crazy mode until then, glared at me as if I said I was going to Eras Tour.

“Oye! What happened?” My eyebrows met each other as I noticed her forehead crinkle and her cheeks go purple.

“Look at this.” With then, I was facing her mobile screen which was flashing an Instagram post from… Aadya.

It was a picture of two trolley bags, the backdrop adorned with her messy, beige bed, books, and casuals.

aadya-chatterjee ✓ Dear Home, I'm coming.

And, her home is Kolkata, not Amalfi Coast.

The solemnity in my mind reflected better than it did before as I looked back at Aarvi.

“Do you know Hriday? My schoolmate? His cousin sister works with Aadya. And, she is very sure that Aadya is going to Kolkata, not Italy. Aadya has no friends to get married in Italy. Trust me, Advika, I have confirmed.” Her eyes bulged with genuineness as I realised that she called me by my name: something she does only when she does serious talk.

Maybe, the second option was right.

It's not Aadya.

“But then, who would call me to Italy? And, book tickets?” I looked into her eyes, searching for answers, while emotions dived in the sea of my tears at the realisation that I lived in delusion.

“Scam,” she whispered as if she was talking about peace in the presence of terrorists. “What if it was a part of a human trafficking chain, trying to lure you to ‘your favourite place'? Today's world can't be trusted.”