ADHURI KAHANI: A tale of an amnesic bond

15. DRENCHED IN MEMORIES

INAAYA'S POV

Amrita Vidyalaya, the school where I completed my 11th and 12th standards. The 18-year-old Inaaya would have been thrilled to imagine returning to visit her school after graduating. She might not have known the exact details, but she was certain about one thing: she would visit with her best friend, Ishaan. But oh, how the tables have turned. Yes, I am visiting my school with Ishaan, but under what circumstances?

I scoffed at my fate; it was never on my side.

Today, as I entered the college at 9 am sharp with him, thousands of memories came flooding back, each a reminder of how much our relationship had changed. Walking through the familiar halls, I could almost see our younger selves laughing and joking. The ache in my throat grew stronger with each step, an overwhelming urge to cry pressing at the back of my mind. But I swallowed it down, forcing myself to maintain composure. I turned to look at him, hoping to find some shared sense of nostalgia, some flicker of recognition in his eyes. But his face remained impassive, completely devoid of emotion or any hint that he, too, remembered our past here. Instead, he immediately engrossed himself in small talk with the professor, exchanging pleasantries and updates.

And that's what he's been doing until now as the principal of the college speaks into the microphone. Ishaan leans over to whisper something to the teacher beside him, who nods twice in agreement before they both turn their attention back to the principal on the stage. I sat two seats behind him, surrounded by students. Although Ishaan had asked me to sit in the front row, I politely declined and chose a seat behind instead.

"The speech is so boring. I want to drink Coke," the girl beside me whined, putting her head on the boy's shoulder next to her.

"Why do you suddenly want Coke, Akruti? Where am I supposed to get you Coke right now?" 

The guy whispered yell to the girl, whose name I learned was Akuriti. She wiggled in her seat, still whining.

"I don't know, Jayash. Do something. You are my best friend."

Oh, they are best friends...

Her response made the guy, whose name I now know is Jayash, shake his head as he rummaged through his bag. A few seconds later, he pulled out a red tin container with 'Coca-Cola' written on it in white letters. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bottle.

"Where did you get this?" she almost yelled, but Jayash quickly covered her mouth and whispered urgently.

"I knew you would need it. Now drink it without getting caught."

I couldn't help but smile as I listened to their lighthearted banter and playful conversation. It was endearing, a reminder of how things used to be between us, just like Jayash and Akruti now. The laughter we once shared here, the moments of joy that filled these halls, felt like a lifetime ago. But as soon as the smile appeared on my face, it was replaced by a throbbing ache in my heart. The memories of our laughter, the shared secrets and gossips during dull lectures, now felt like a heavy weight, suffocating me with their intensity.

The realization hit me with a painful clarity: everything between us was a façade from his side. The bond I had cherished so deeply was nothing more than an illusion, one-sided and unreciprocated. The connection I thought we had, the laughter we shared, the moments of closeness—all were now tainted by the truth that they had been hollow from the start.

The emotional burden became too much to bear, causing a sharp pang in my chest. The echoes of our past laughter seemed to mock me, making it harder to breathe. I needed to escape the stifling atmosphere of this place, to distance myself from the painful reminders of what once was.