𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐍𝐚𝐚𝐳 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

MTF: 1

Sidharth and I had been best friends for as long as I could remember. Even, the bond between our families had always been a strong one. My father and Sidharth’s father were the best of friends, neighbors from the start and inseparable through the years.

Growing up side by side meant that Sidharth and I had little choice but to become just as close. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t around, laughing beside me or challenging me to whatever daring game he’d dreamed up. To the outside world, we were the “inseparable best friends”—the two who knew each other better than anyone else.

But for me, there was always something more. I had started noticing it as we grew up together, moments that probably seemed insignificant to him but had become precious memories for me.

One of those memories was my eighth birthday. I still remember the way Sidharth ran through the house, waving the toy bike I’d been begging for, yelling for me to follow him to the backyard. He spent the whole afternoon teaching me how to balance and pedal, not letting go of the bike even when his hands must have hurt from holding on. And when I finally managed to ride on my own, he cheered louder than anyone else, his eyes gleaming with pride as if he’d accomplished something grand.

And then, there was the time I got my first bad grade in school. I was devastated, terrified to tell my parents. Sidharth was the first person I told, and instead of laughing or dismissing it, he stayed up all night helping me study, offering words of encouragement and even some silly jokes to make me feel better. That night, he didn’t leave until he was sure I was smiling again.

These moments, while simple, held so much meaning for me. They were fragments of a life we’d shared—a life where Sidharth was always there, lifting me up, cheering me on, and looking out for me.

I glanced at an old photo on my desk, taken when we were just eight. Sidharth had his arm slung around my shoulder, a little possessive even back then, as if he was already guarding me against the world. That photo brought back so many memories, but one stood out most.

It was the day we had snuck off to explore the park without telling anyone. When my parents found out, they’d been furious, but Sidharth had taken all the blame, insisting it was his idea.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to go with you that day,” I murmured, flipping through my memories and chuckling softly. “You were so sure we wouldn’t get caught.”

“But we didn’t, did we?” I remembered him saying with that same cocky grin, showing off a scrape on his knee. “And even if we had, I’d have taken the blame again.”

That was Sidharth in a nutshell—protective, loyal, and brave, always ready to stand up for me, even if it meant getting into trouble himself.

Now, here we were, in our third year of college, and our bond was stronger than ever. From preschool to high school to now, we had stayed close, as if our lives were still woven tightly together.