Aarav Banerjee is a mystery wrapped in silence. He speaks only when necessary, yet when he does, everyone listens. He's not popular, but everyone knows him. He's just joined junior college, though not very thrilled about it. He's not quiet, just car...
This book is my everything and I just can't believe it's ending 🥺 Though we still have two amazing epilogues to go, so I hope y'all stick around 💗
Happy 5K reads and 400 votes!
To all the silent readers, you all read the minute I upload a chapter but you still don't vote or comment 😔. Why so mysterious? 😭🙏
🧿
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The delivery person hands me the package, and I take it. I thank him and close the door.
Did I order anything? No. Do I know who sent this? Yes.
I moved to Canada, like I always dreamt of, two years ago. I'm pursuing my Master's in Psychology in Toronto, and life's been going pretty good—except how much I miss my family.
And him.
He's officially an architect at a firm in the US and a part-time musician. He met a group of musicians in Berkeley and became a part of their band. They perform at small-scale concerts, sometimes in bars or restaurants.
I video-call him, hoping he'll pick up.
He does and I'm immediately watching him brush his teeth.
"It's your birthday, Banerjee. You don't have to send me gifts."
He just turned 23 years old. Crazy how time flies.
Somewhere along the way, he started to enjoy his birthdays again. He didn’t throw parties or cut cakes, but he wasn’t sad either.
"Did you open it?" he asks, grinning.
"No, not yet."
I pick up the cardboard box and rip it open.
I'm met by my favourite writer's newest novel, a packet of Uncle Chips, and dozens of Choki Chokis. But the best part? His hoodie.
Now I’m the one grinning.
"I received the birthday gift you sent me and it was so adorable I had to send you a gift back," he says.
"Did you like it?" I ask, genuinely.
I gifted him a customised showpiece of me and him, with Coco in the middle. I love that dog and we haven’t seen him in years. He still lives with Aarav’s dad.
"Yes, I freaking love it. It’s so cute. And the letter with it—"
"Don’t you dare read it out loud! It's cringey—"
He clears his throat before reading with annoying enthusiasm.
"Dear Aarav Banerjee, I'm writing this letter because I watched this reel that said if you want to move on from someone, you should write everything in a letter and throw it away...
I think I have a crush on you. But I don’t want to, because I know you don’t like me back. You play guitar and you have a really nice face and fluffy hair. And you have a really cute dog. You’re also really kind. You’re so sweet to me, nobody talks to me with so much care.
I know this is kind of sounding like a love letter, but I don’t know how to write a hate letter or a moving-on letter. Never mind. Point is, I don’t care if you don’t like me back. Because we’re just friends."
He finishes in a dramatic tone.
I’m hiding my face in the cushions. “Are you done?” I say, my voice muffled against the pillow.
"You’re really bad at moving on. Instead of moving on, you made me fall in love with you. Tsk tsk. And also, I do have a really nice face—"
"Shut up. I wrote that when I was fifteen and when I thought you friendzoned me. I was really hurt and vulnerable. You can’t judge me. It was my first heartbreak," I say, clutching my chest in mock sadness.
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“It’s concerning how obsessed I am with your dimples. Oh shit, did I say that out loud?” I gasp sarcastically.
His grin widens until his eyes are little crescents.
"Happy birthday, Aarav," I say softly. "Thank you, love," he replies almost instantly, that name rolling off his tongue smoothly.
"You have plans for tomorrow? Well, technically today. It’s 2:36 AM, Banerjee. We both really need to fix our sleep schedules."
"Oh, I know. I already get only a couple of hours to sleep because my insomnia won’t shut up. But no, I don’t have plans for tomorrow. Just work, and then maybe I’ll go get dinner with the gang."
"Oh, that’s nice," I say.
He still continues his therapy sessions online, even after leaving India. They aren't weekly anymore because he's almost okay now but they’re scheduled once in a while.
"Aastha… I need to tell you something. I– And no, before you ask, I'm not breaking up with you."
"Thanks," I mutter.
"Look, we haven’t been to India in years. I know you miss your mom and dad. And I miss my dad too. I miss Coco. I was wondering if we could go home?"
"Just one year left for me to finish my Masters. I’ll go then, Aarav. I told you that a million times. If I go home now, I won’t feel like coming back to Canada," I say, sighing.
"But I want to go to Mumbai now. I also don’t want to go alone because home isn’t home without you." He says, pouting.
"Okay, that’s emotional blackmail. Not fair."
"Please? Pretty please?" he asks, joining his hands and bowing in front of the camera.
"Fine. I’ll apply for a leave." I huff.
"Make it a week long," he says, nonchalant.
"A week?!" I shriek.
"Come on, don’t be a 100% attendance kind of girl," he grumbles.
"Well too bad I am. But fine, I’ll try."
"Okay, good. Because I already booked flight tickets," he says, looking at the not-very-interesting walls beside him with fascination.
"You did what?" I snap.
"I'm just really excited. To go home." He blinks innocently, a pout on his face.
I crack a smile. "You're cute."
"Yes, you mentioned. And I have a really nice face and fluffy hair."
"You’re never going to shut up about that, are you?" I say, rolling my eyes but I just couldn't stop the smile
"Never."
"And you’re going to mention that in every conversation we’re going to have?"
"Always and forever," he says, smiling cheekily.
He lies down in his bed and I do in mine. We didn’t hang up until the sun rose and we had to go to work.
Because it's me and him. Always and forever. Through the dark and through the dawn. Through winters and through the summers. Always and forever.
💌
Thank y'all for reading Hope you guys liked this chapter. Make sure to stay for the epilogues because there's a lot happening...
