UNSPOKEN BONDS

14. One Step At A Time

SAMARTH RAGHAVAN MEHTA

As I pulled up to Mulund station, the familiar scent of the city and the hum of traffic filled my senses, grounding me. Today, I wasn’t Samarth, the guy who had screwed up so many times—today, I was the friend who was trying to make things right. This time, it wasn’t about anything more than that. I wanted to be someone Ammu could rely on again.

I saw her walking towards the car, her bright smile a little hesitant, but still there. A wave of nostalgia hit me hard. She looked like the Ammu I knew, the one who I had shared the best moments of my life with. But there was a difference now. There was something guarded about her, something that I hadn’t seen before.

“Hey!” I called out, grinning despite the nerves running through me.

“Hey, Sam,” she replied, sliding into the passenger seat. Her voice was warm, but there was a trace of caution in it.

I started the car, trying to sound casual. “So, game zone today, huh? I remember the last time we went to one of these places... you nearly beat me at air hockey. I think it’s time for a rematch.”

She laughed, and that sound—genuine and light—tugged at something in my chest. “You know I’m still undefeated, right? Don’t try to fool me with your confidence, Sam.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, it’s on. I’m bringing my A-game today. Prepare to lose.”

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and I felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could get back to the easy friendship we once shared.

The drive to the game zone was filled with playful banter and easy laughter. It felt like old times, like the past couple of years hadn’t happened. I could see her loosening up, the tension that had been there when she first got in the car slowly starting to fade.

We arrived at the game zone, and it was exactly as I remembered—loud, bustling with energy, and filled with every possible game you could imagine. Bowling lanes gleamed under the bright lights, while a few people played pool in the back corner. It was the kind of place where memories were made.

“So, first challenge?” I asked, scanning the games.

She gave me a look of mock suspicion. “Are you trying to distract me with all this fun, Sam? I’m still winning this time.”

I chuckled. “Not if I can help it, Ammu.”

We headed straight for the bowling lanes, where I took my turn first, trying to impress her with a fancy spin that, of course, ended up in a gutter. She raised an eyebrow, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Really, Sam?” she teased, stepping up for her turn. “You should stick to the basics.”

“Oh, I’ll show you, Ammu,” I replied, my confidence unshaken.

The sound of the ball hitting the pins was satisfying, followed by her triumphant grin as she got a strike. “I guess that’s how it’s done.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She was the same—competitive, but with a spark of warmth that made everything feel lighthearted. For the first time in a while, I felt like we were truly connecting again.

As the games continued, the competitive streak in her shone brightly. It was exhilarating to see her so relaxed, her guard slipping away. But the highlight wasn’t the games—it was when we got to the air hockey table. 

I scored a goal, and Ammu narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t count. You distracted me!” 

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “How exactly?”