Whispers of the Past

1

Zaarika's POV

Starting at the very same building I once called home—a place that holds a special place in my heart—I'm finally back here after ten long years. It feels surreal to step through these familiar doors again, especially since the reunion is taking place in a place where we once celebrated our future. It's strange that they decided to hold a reunion, considering our farewell never went as planned. A lot has changed since then; I guess everyone will be coming.

"Zaarika! HI! IDHAR... kaisi hai? 10 saal ho gaye! Phone won nam ki koi cheez hoti hai kya? Kabhi utha ke lag aliya kar yaar." Prisha, my friend with whom I spent the most memorable years of my life, came rushing toward me, her smile infectious. She hugged me tightly, and for a brief moment, the world around me faded. I never thought that a simple touch could soothe my aching heart so much.

Prisha has always been the vibrant heart of our group—her laughter a melody that could brighten even the darkest days. Today, she wore a stunning turquoise saree that flowed gracefully around her, accentuating her caramel skin. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with a familiar warmth, often mistaken for black unless looked at closely. She had grown taller and more elegant; her features maturing into a stunning blend of grace and confidence. Yet, beneath that radiant exterior, I could sense a hint of nostalgia in her gaze, mirroring my own.

Today is November 9th. Exactly ten years ago, at this same place and at this very same time, we were supposed to have our farewell. The last time I walked these familiar halls, we were bubbling with anticipation about our futures, dreaming of the lives we would build. But now, as I stand here, I feel a heavy knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. It's overwhelming, a stark contrast to the excitement I remember from our youth.

"Oye madam, kahan kho gayi? Tab se bula rahi hu tughe! Chal, Cyrus upar wait kar raha hai Josephine aur Devishi ke sath h." Prisha's voice breaks through my thoughts. The only change I see in her is her more mature demeanor, yet she still possesses that bubbly personality that drew everyone in. "I know I look pretty, but chal ab," she said, grinning as if she could read my mind.

Taking that as my cue, I followed her lead, but as we walked, the familiar hallways suddenly appeared foreign. The laughter that once echoed in these corridors now felt hollow, each giggle a reminder of the joy we once shared and the void left by her absence. A feeling of dread washed over me as memories rushed in—uninvited and overwhelming. I needed to escape, to breathe.

"Prisha, I'll go to the washroom real quick and join you and the others inside, hmm?" I forced a smile, hoping to mask my unease.

"Theek hai, magar bag mat jana. Hum stage ke paas honge, okay?" she said, her teasing tone lightening the mood but not erasing the weight in my chest. The idea seemed wise; perhaps a moment alone would help me gather my thoughts.

Walking through the same long veranda, I made my way to the balcony, staring down at the badminton court below. We had won so many matches there, each victory echoing in my mind like a sweet melody. The smell of cigarettes suddenly filled my nostrils, pulling me from my memories. I turned around, only to realize it was Devishi—the girl who had always claimed never to let any poison into her body—now smoking.

"Came out here for fresh air?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and indifference. Devishi had always been the pragmatic one, the planner who kept us grounded. Now, in a sharply tailored three-piece business suit, she looked every bit the professional. Her hair fell freely, framing her face and accentuating her defined cheekbones. Yet, her black charcoal eyes, once bright with youthful optimism, now held a depth that hinted at untold stories and burdens.

"Prisha was waiting for you inside," she said, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Hi Dev, nice to meet you too," I replied, attempting to match her nonchalance, though my heart raced at the sight of her. I couldn't help but marvel at how she had transformed—the baby fat was gone, replaced by a sharp jawline and full lips, the cigarette hanging delicately between them. "You smoke?" I asked, curiosity piqued despite the shift in her demeanor.

"Well, a lot has changed in these ten years. And yes, I smoke now. You want one?" she asked, offering me a stick. I shook my head, still processing the change in her. She shrugged and took a long puff, the smoke curling into the air like the memories we shared—fading yet lingering, intoxicating yet bitter.

"I know it feels suffocating to act like everything is normal; after all, I miss her a lot. In these ten years, every day, I hoped she would show up and say it was all a prank." My voice trembled slightly as I spoke, the memories of her flooding back—her laughter, her dreams, the promises we made. "She was your best friend from childhood, after all, and you both did everything together. It feels wrong, you know, celebrating while she's not here with us."

"Life is like a cycle. It has no end. It keeps moving forward, sometimes leaving people behind. We have to accept that fact and move on. There's no point in looking back," she replied, her voice steady yet tinged with sadness. "But just so you know, that night not only changed you; it changed us too."

Her words struck a chord deep within me. Maybe today, amidst the laughter and the tears, we could finally find closure and move forward with our lives. "Andar chale, Mohtarma?" I asked her playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

With a hesitant smile, she stepped forward and hugged me, warmth flooding back like the old times we cherished. I missed this—those carefree days when we dreamed of rolling up in a Porsche or a Bugatti to our reunion, buying a holiday house together. It felt good to feel that warmth again, even if it was just for a moment.

"Chal nahi to humare liye search party bhej denge ye log," she joked, and just like that, my nerves began to settle.

As we walked back toward the auditorium, I couldn't shake the feeling that today would hold more than just memories; it would challenge everything we thought we knew. A quiet resolve settled in my heart. Perhaps it was time to confront the ghosts of our past, to face the silence that had lingered for too long.