A Story Without You

Chapter 6: Picking Up the Pieces

The days that followed were a blur of routines that Aarav moved through without really feeling present. He attended his classes, completed assignments, and sat through lunch breaks with Neeraj, who watched him with quiet concern but refrained from pressing him. Aarav was grateful for that, grateful for the small mercy of not having to explain why he looked like a shell of himself, why his laughter was hollow and his eyes distant.

Siya’s absence in his life was like a constant ache, a wound that throbbed with every reminder of her. He saw her occasionally across the campus, surrounded by friends, her laughter drifting on the wind and hitting him like an echo of something lost. Each time, he looked away before their eyes could meet. It was easier that way, to pretend she was just another person passing by, instead of the one who had once been his entire world.

“Come on, Aarav, you need to get out of this slump,” Neeraj said one evening, barging into Aarav’s dorm room with a pizza box and a six-pack of soda. “You’re going to waste away if you keep up this brooding artist act.”

Aarav managed a small smile as Neeraj set the pizza box on his desk, clearing away the scattered papers and textbooks. “I’m not brooding,” Aarav said, though he knew it was a lie. He’d spent the past few nights staring at sketches he’d drawn of Siya—the curve of her smile, the light in her eyes. They were pieces of her that he hadn’t been able to let go of, trapped in graphite and paper.

“Sure, and I’m not hungry,” Neeraj retorted, flipping open the box and grabbing a slice. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Listen, I know this is hard. But you can’t keep holding onto what ifs and maybes. You did what was right for you, even if it hurts now.”

Aarav stared at the pizza, suddenly realizing he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The gnawing in his stomach felt less like hunger and more like grief. He reached for a slice, the cheese stretching as he lifted it, and took a bite that tasted of cardboard and guilt. But with each bite, he felt a little more grounded, a little more present in the moment.

“Thanks, Neeraj,” he said after a while, the silence between them now filled with the simple sounds of eating and the faint thrum of music from a neighboring dorm.

Neeraj leaned back in the chair, tipping it onto two legs. “So, what’s next for you? Any plans to actually enjoy life, or are you going to keep moping around like a lost puppy?”

Aarav chuckled, the sound rusty and unused. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll focus on my art, do something productive for a change.”

Neeraj’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. You need to channel all this... whatever it is, into something that reminds you who you are. You were always happiest when you had a sketchbook in your hands.”

The next day, Aarav took Neeraj’s advice to heart. He found himself in the art studio on campus, a place he hadn’t visited in weeks. The smell of paint and charcoal was comforting, familiar, like slipping into a pair of well-worn shoes. The studio was mostly empty, save for a couple of students working quietly on their projects.

Aarav set up at a table by the window where the morning light streamed in, bright and hopeful. He opened his sketchbook to a blank page and hesitated, the pencil hovering in his hand. Drawing Siya was out of the question, he decided. That chapter was closed, at least for now. Instead, he focused on drawing the world around him—the silhouettes of students walking across campus, the towering trees that shivered in the wind, the benches where laughter and stories were shared.

Hours passed, and with each stroke of the pencil, Aarav felt a little of the heaviness lift. The lines on the page were no longer reminders of what he’d lost but markers of what he still had: his art, his resilience, his capacity to create even when everything inside him felt broken.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Aarav closed his sketchbook and leaned back, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The ache in his chest was still there, a shadow of what it had been, but now it was surrounded by something else—an ember of hope, faint but persistent.

On his way back to his dorm, he passed by the courtyard where he and Siya had had their last conversation. The bench was empty now, bathed in the warm glow of twilight. Aarav paused for a moment, the memory playing like a silent film in his mind. But instead of turning away, he took a deep breath and kept walking, the path ahead of him stretching wide and uncertain, but finally his own.

Continued....