Memories

12

Shivani

Two Weeks Later

Two weeks had passed since Karthik's accident, and every day felt like walking a tightrope. We had tried everything we could think of to help him regain his memories—revisiting the places that had been special to us, telling stories about the little moments we had shared, showing him pictures, and even playing some of the songs that had been part of our life together. Yet, nothing seemed to work.

Karthik would sometimes get these flashes—tiny, fragmented glimpses of the past—but they were fleeting, disappearing almost as soon as they appeared. "I see something, but it's gone again," he admitted one afternoon as we sat in the park, his head resting against Rahul's shoulder. "It's like a shadow of something I should know, but I can't grasp it."

It broke my heart to hear him say that, but at least there were some small victories. He had started recognizing us as his friends from law college, those from the year he had studied before leaving to chase his Bollywood dream. And perhaps more importantly, he had begun to go to work, slowly returning to the routine he loved. I could see a flicker of his old spark, the enthusiasm for his craft and life. That was encouraging, but it didn't make the absence of our shared memories any easier to bear.

The bigger challenge wasn't just his lost memories—it was his family. His uncle Mohan and his daughter, Sonu, were constantly hovering over us. Their presence was suffocating. From the very first day, I could sense their dislike. They hated the fact that we were staying with them in their home while Karthik was recovering, and they made no attempt to hide it. Mohan had always been controlling, always trying to steer Karthik in directions that suited him. And Sonu... well, Sonu's behaviour was impossible to ignore.

She acted as if she owned him. She was always around, leaning on his arm, standing in doorways, or hovering whenever we tried to speak to him alone. Every time I tried to get a few moments with Kar to jog his memory or just talk to him, she was there, her eyes sharp and calculating. I could see the way she smiled at him, flirted, and subtly tried to get his attention. It was infuriating.

And I couldn't shake the feeling that she was almost glad he didn't remember the past. When we discussed our attempts to help him, I caught her smirking. From the way she acted, it was obvious that she enjoyed having this advantage. She knew that without his memories, he had no context to understand her manipulation, and she tried to fill in the gaps her way. It was frustrating and heartbreaking at the same time.

Karthik

Lying on Granny's lap, I felt the warmth of her hands stroking my hair. It was comforting, safe, and the only place I truly felt grounded in the chaos of my mind. Over the past two weeks, I had begun to notice small fragments of life before my accident. I could remember faces and events from law college, though the memories felt hazy and incomplete.

"Granny," I murmured, my voice quiet as I closed my eyes, "there's something I can't explain. When we went to the college yesterday, Rahul brought me along. Walking through the corridors, I remembered... something. But then it hurt—this unbearable pain flared in my forehead, and I couldn't push through it."

Her hands tightened around me, her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, my child... I wish I could take away all your pain," she whispered, pressing her cheek to my forehead.

I winced, trying to remember more. "Granny... who is Shivani?" I asked hesitantly. "She... she seems familiar... but I can't... place her."

"Shivani is very sweet," Granny replied gently, trying to calm me. "She's your best friend from the time you joined law school. You don't remember her right now, but you will soon. She's been here many times, trying to help you. Don't worry—you'll remember her."

I hummed in response, unsure of how to process the mix of familiarity and emptiness in my mind. Something about her name felt comforting, even if I couldn't place the memories attached to it.

Granny smiled softly. "Do you have a kurta to wear for Fhanna's wedding?" she asked.

"No," I replied. A few days ago, Fhanna invited me with my friends—Shivani and Anjali. She told me she was friends with them. "Tomorrow... I am taking them shopping; I thought I'll just buy it there"

Granny nodded approvingly. "Good. It will be nice to go with friends. And Shivani... she's special, you'll remember that soon."

I tried to push the thought aside, focusing instead on the shopping list Granny had given me and the task of choosing a suitable outfit for the wedding. But in the back of my mind, Shivani 's face lingered—a faint spark I couldn't fully grasp.