DEV(i)

12. Memories~

The first picture he saw was one he had sketched in his final year of college—an incomplete sketch of her, sitting under a tree on the campus grounds, reading through some thick, scientific textbook. Her hair, tied up in that messy bun she always wore, fell haphazardly over her face, and he had captured the slight frown of concentration on her lips perfectly. He remembered the day clearly, even now. It was a rare moment of stillness for her, one of the few times she wasn't rushing around in a frenzy to juggle her academic work and social commitments.

His fingers traced the outline of the sketch, and the memories rushed back—how it all started in his senior year, the very last stretch of his college life. He had been focused on graduating, already neck-deep in plans for the future, too busy to really notice anyone new. But then, there she was—a freshman, bumbling nervously in front of him one afternoon, asking for his old English notes.

Srinika had been too busy with her core subjects to care about electives, but she wanted to ace everything, no exceptions. She had this laser focus on her goals, a kind of drive Dev had rarely seen before. He had given her the notes without thinking much of it. Just another junior asking for help. But it didn't stop there. She came back again, and again. Always for help with English, always with that same mix of determination and restlessness. She had wanted to top every exam, and soon, he found himself actually looking forward to those small interactions.

As he turned another page, a photo slipped out—a candid shot taken in a café. Dev smiled bitterly as he picked it up. That was when things started to shift. Their meetings were no longer confined to the classroom or the library. College grounds turned into casual meetups at cafes and study sessions that stretched late into the evening. It wasn't long before he realized that their relationship had shifted. What began as a simple senior-junior exchange had grown into something deeper. Friendship.

He flipped the photo over and saw a poem scrawled on the back in his messy handwriting. It was unfinished, but the words reflected what he couldn't admit at the time. He had begun caring for her in ways he didn't expect. He had become the person she turned to, not just for notes, but for support, for advice, for everything. She opened up to him slowly, sharing her ambitions, her frustrations, her fears. She had always been so focused, so determined to succeed in everything she did, but with him, she let herself be vulnerable.

As he kept reading, the diary entries became more personal, more revealing. There were pages upon pages of reflections on how he had made time for her even after he graduated. How, despite the pressure of converting part of his father's interior design business into his own architectural firm, he would carve out time to guide her through her English assignments or just spend time with her. He'd be exhausted, his mind filled with blueprints and business plans, but somehow, when it came to Srinika, he never hesitated. She had become the center of his world, whether she knew it or not.

Another sketch appeared—a quick drawing of her laughing at something he'd said during one of their impromptu coffee breaks. Her laugh had always been infectious, a sound that seemed to break through the noise of his own mind and calm him. Dev had never told her, but she had become his peace. In the chaos of building his business, navigating family expectations, and balancing his ambitions, Srinika was the one thing that grounded him.

His fingers brushed over the edges of a page filled with messy, half-formed sentences. He had written down a conversation they'd had once, a long time ago, about the future. She had been so confident, talking about how she would get into the best labs, how she would make her parents proud, how everything would fall into place. But as he read his own words, he realized something he hadn't fully understood at the time—he had been writing about her in a way that spoke of admiration, but also something more. He had been falling for her, even back then.

But there was no confession, no grand realization in the diary. Just more sketches, more fragments of the life they had built together. A best friend, a confidante, but never more than that. And yet, in every page, every scribble, it was clear that she had changed him in ways he couldn't quite explain. She had pushed him, without ever realizing it, to be better—to strive for more than just his father's business, to carve his own path. And in return, he had supported her, been there for her, silently hoping that one day, she might see him the way he saw her.

He closed the diary with a sigh, the weight of all those memories pressing down on him. How had things gotten so complicated? They were best friends now, but that wasn't the whole truth. Not for him, at least. And with the mess of emotions that had surfaced recently—Srinika's confessions about Aakash, the anger he hadn't been able to control—everything felt more tangled than ever.

Dev leaned back in his chair, staring at the closed diary. How had he gone from being her quiet support to this? 

The familiar weight of the diary resting in his lap, and let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. The memories washed over him—memories that had been tucked away for years, but still so vivid in his mind. He could almost hear her voice, the slur of her words from that night, as she drunkenly babbled about the absurdity of them ever dating.

It had been one of those nights that stayed etched in his mind, not just for how strange and chaotic it had been, but because it had shown him a side of Srinika he hadn't expected to see. She had always been so composed, so determined to keep herself in control, but that night was different. It was the first time he had seen her drunk—and vulnerable....

~.~

To be continued...