Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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We were currently driving, with her sitting in the passenger seat beside me, her eyes glued to her phone. She was scrolling through the comments on her latest Instagram post, and every so often, a mix of disbelief and amusement crossed her face. I couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly entertained by her reactions. It was rare to see her so expressive, and I was relishing every second of it.
My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Rakshit. I answered, already bracing myself for whatever over-the-top excitement he was bound to unleash.
"Yash! You finally accepted it in front of the world, indirectly at least! I’m so happy, I could die peacefully now!" he exclaimed, his voice overflowing with enthusiasm.
I rolled my eyes at my best friend. "Okay, Rakshit. Before you decide to die, send me the files I asked for, and then find yourself on a cliff to jump off, alright?" I retorted, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
He let out a mock gasp of hurt. "Yash, how could you? I’m going to complain to your Luna about how you treat your best friend!"
I didn’t take his threat seriously and ended the call. But as I glanced at her, I noticed the curiosity in her eyes, though she didn’t say anything. Respecting my privacy, she remained silent, but I could sense she was dying to know what Rakshit had said.
An idea struck me, and I called Rakshit again, this time putting it on speaker. I handed the phone to her, and she looked at me, confused and a bit shocked. I just nodded for her to go ahead.
On the other end, Rakshit started dramatically, "Best friend, best friend na raha…" His voice trailed off when he realized it wasn’t me on the other line.
"Hello," she said softly, her voice polite but curious.
Rakshit, recognizing the voice, suddenly became shy. But never one to miss a beat, he quickly introduced himself, "Uh, hi! I’m Rakshit, Yash’s long-suffering best friend."
She smiled, a little amused at his antics. "Hi, I’m Nandini. Nice to meet you, Rakshit."
"Oh, the pleasure’s all mine!" Rakshit responded, before quickly turning to his usual cheeky self. "You know, Nandini, Yash has some serious mood swings. One minute he’s all brooding and intense, and the next, he’s ready to bite someone’s head off!"
I narrowed my eyes as she stifled a laugh. "Is that so?" she said, glancing at me, clearly enjoying this more than I’d like.
They both laughed, a sound that made me momentarily regret letting them talk. Now, I knew they'd be teasing me about my so-called mood swings. But in reality, it wasn’t mood swings—it was just who I was. I had anger issues, sure, and I didn’t tolerate nonsense . But none of that was my fault. If anyone was to blame, it was her—the author of my personality , my whole existence , sitting right beside me, looking ethereal and beautiful without even trying.
