The rain had stopped.
But somehow, Naina still felt like she was standing in the middle of a storm.
She closed the curtains and leaned against the window, watching the last few drops slide down the glass.
Aarav's car had disappeared minutes ago.
Yet his presence hadn't.
It doesn't feel like it.
His voice came back to her again.
Naina shut her eyes.
“It's been ten years,” she whispered to herself. “Why does it still feel like yesterday?”
She walked toward her bedroom, hoping sleep would silence her thoughts.
It didn't.
Instead, her eyes fell on the old wooden cupboard in the corner.
She hadn't opened that cupboard in years.
Not properly.
Something inside her told her not to.
And maybe that was exactly why she opened it.
She moved a few old boxes aside.
A stack of photographs.
Some college certificates.
An old scarf.
And then...
the blue notebook.
Naina froze.
Her fingers hovered over it.
She had forgotten she still had it.
Or maybe she had simply convinced herself that she had.
Slowly, she picked it up.
The cover was faded now. The corners were worn. A tiny ink stain still remained on the bottom-right corner.
She ran her thumb over it.
A memory surfaced.
A boy laughing.
A stolen pen.
A rainy afternoon.
And a voice saying,
“You'll write about me one day.”
Naina smiled despite herself.
“Idiot.”
She sat on the floor beside the cupboard and opened the notebook.
The first few pages were filled with childish thoughts.
Exams.
Friends.
Dreams.
Little complaints about teachers.
Then she saw his name.
Aarav.
Written again.
And again.
And again.
She turned another page.
There was a small photograph tucked between the pages.
A younger Aarav stood beside her, both of them laughing at something outside the frame.
Naina stared at it.
He looked so different.
No fame.
No security guards.
No cameras.
Just Aarav.
The boy who used to steal her notes and return them with ridiculous drawings in the margins.
She turned the page.
Then stopped.
One page was missing.
She frowned.
Another page.
Missing too.
Her fingers moved over the torn edge.
Naina's expression changed.
She remembered.
She had torn those pages herself.
But why?
She closed the notebook immediately.
“No.”
She didn't want to remember that night.
Not tonight.
Not after seeing him.
She placed the diary back inside the cupboard and locked it.
But before she could stand, her phone buzzed.
Aarav Malhotra — Documentary Schedule
Call time: 9:00 AM.
Naina stared at his name.
Then she sighed.
“Professional,” she reminded herself.
“It's just work.”
The Next Morning
The studio was already busy when Naina arrived.
Cameras were being moved around.
Assistants rushed between rooms.
Someone was arguing about lighting.
Naina welcomed the chaos.
Chaos was easier than memories.
She walked into the interview room and began checking the equipment.
“Good morning.”
She turned.
Aarav.
Black shirt.
Messy hair.
That familiar expression she had spent the entire night trying not to remember.
“Good morning,” she replied.
Nothing more.
Aarav looked at her for a moment.
Then he walked toward his chair.
Professional.
Polite.
Distant.
For some reason, that bothered her.
She had expected something.
A smile.
A comment.
Anything.
Instead, he behaved as though last night's conversation had never happened.
Naina looked away.
Maybe it meant nothing to him.
She adjusted the camera.
“Ready?”
“Always.”
The interview began.
Questions about his career.
His first film.
His success.
His fans.
His life in front of the camera.
Aarav answered everything perfectly.
Too perfectly.
Naina lowered the camera.
“You don't have to give me the version everyone already knows.”
His eyes met hers.
For the first time that morning, something changed.
“What version do you want?”
“The real one.”
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
“You always wanted the real one.”
Naina's heart skipped.
Before she could respond, Aarav stood and walked past her.
Then, without looking at her, he said quietly,
“You still bite your lip when you're nervous.”
Naina froze.
Her hand immediately moved toward her mouth.
Aarav continued walking.
As if he hadn't just reopened ten years of memories with one sentence.
She watched him disappear through the door.
And for the first time, Naina wondered—
How much had Aarav remembered?
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Naina frowned and opened the message.
You should have told him the truth that night.
Her heart stopped.
She stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
He still doesn't know why you left.
Naina's hands began to tremble.
She looked toward the door through which Aarav had just disappeared.
For ten years, she had buried that night.
She had convinced herself that the past was dead.
But someone else remembered.
Someone who knew what happened.
And suddenly, Naina wasn't afraid of seeing Aarav again.
She was afraid of what would happen—
when he finally learned the truth.
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