Long before adulthood complicated everything, there was a childhood that felt simple, careless and wonderfully ordinary… Shaped silently by a girl I didn’t yet realise would mean everything.
If you ask me when our story began, I won’t be able to tell you. Some relationships don’t announce themselves, they simply grow with you quietly, like roots beneath the earth. Simran was that for me. She was the girl next door, the rival in my childhood fights, the partner in every stupid adventure, the loud voice echoing through every memory I’ve ever carried.
This is not a love story.
Or maybe it is.
Or maybe its far beyond that, which had no meaning at all.
This is the story of me and my everything “Simran”
from the sand of Mangalore to the terrace of Bangalore,
from school corridors to wedding halls,
from laughter to silence,
from everything… to almost nothing.
And if I could go back and change one thing,
I wouldn’t choose a different life.
I would choose a different courage.
Chapter One : My Only Friend, Chimpanzee
Simran was the girl next door, same age, same school, same class. She wasn’t just someone I knew, she was a part of my growing up, so deeply stitched into my memories that I can’t recall when our story even began. Was it the toys we fought over in each other’s homes or the evenings we spent chasing each other in the park? I don’t know. All I know is, Simran was there right from the beginning.
Our families were close, which meant her home often felt like an extension of mine. Simran was just a few days older than me. I often called her “Chimpanzee,” and sometimes even forgot her real name. She loved her chimpanzee doll more than anything.
When we were kids, we all got strangely attached to things.
Simran was attached to her chimpanzee doll like it was a part of her.
And me?
My heart and soul belonged to chocolates and I was madly in love with watching WWE.
While Simran dreamed of becoming an architect one day, my grand childhood ambition was simple, to work in the “Cadbury factory”, because in my mind that meant unlimited chocolates and nobody to stop me.
Most of my childhood afternoons were spent stretched out on her sofa with the remote in my hand, glued to cartoons and WWE, while she rolled her eyes and called me lazy.
Simran had always been different from me. She was bold, outspoken and carried herself with the energy of a tomboy. She was the kind who ran faster, climbed higher and never hesitated to pick a fight. I, on the other hand, was lethargic average student and honestly, it was only because of her that I even managed to finish school. Academics never excited me, my world revolved around video games, flying kites and escaping homework. We were nothing alike and yet, somehow, we were inseparable.
She was in every moment of my childhood, woven into all my memories. As we entered 10th grade, life moved on as usual, until she suddenly fell seriously ill with jaundice and had to move to her grandparents home in Mangalore to recover. She battled the illness, missed school for months and we all knew she would probably lose a year.
I went to Mangalore with my parents during Dussehra holidays to see her. Her grandparents house was beautiful, perched right next to the beach. When I walked into her room, the girl lying on the bed was nothing like the lively friend I had grown up with, she was pale and motionless, nothing like the girl who used to run and laugh with me. It tore me apart, though I tried hard not to show it. I placed her favourite chimpanzee doll beside her and softly asked,
“ಹೇಗಿದ್ದೀಯೆ, ಚಿಂಪಾಂಝಿ?”
“How are you, Chimpanzee?”
We spoke for hours, about how much everyone missed her at school, even the teachers (though she had always been a chatterbox in class). I brought up our new neighbour in the colony, Preeti. But as soon as I continued talking about her, Simran’s face started turning red. I could tell something was off, so I quickly jumped to a different topic.
By then, lunch was ready. We all sat together in the hall. I loved Simran’s home cooked food. Back in Bangalore, every Sunday breakfast would be at her place. The neer dose and fish curry were mouth watering and now, in Mangalore, I found myself eagerly waiting for lunchtime, wondering who could possibly resist it here.
Later, I asked her grandfather if I could take her outside for a walk along the beach.
Her grandfather was a strict man, he hadn’t let Simran out of his sight since she arrived. Simran had already warned me that he wouldn’t agree, but I decided to try anyway. Unfortunately, he didn’t.
In a small, defeated voice, Simran whispered softly, “ನಾನ್ ನಿನಿಗೆ ಹೇಳ್ದೆ” “I told you…”.
Helpless, Simran and I continued talking and eventually started watching TV. She knew it was time for my favourite show, so she slid the remote to me and said, “I don’t know the channel number. Take it and watch.”
The routine continued just like in Bangalore: I shamelessly grabbed the remote, tuned into my favourite channel and started watching, while Simran fell asleep hugging the chimpanzee I had brought her.
The day passed quickly. We had a train to catch the next day back to Bangalore and our return tickets were already booked. During dinner, I told Simran, “Don’t sleep after dinner.” She asked why and I just said, “Just don’t fall asleep.”
After dinner, everyone went to bed. I quietly sneaked into Simran’s room, she was awake. I whispered, “We’re going out for a walk.”
ತಲೆ ಕೆಟ್ಟಿದ್ಯಾ? “Have you gone mad? That’s a bad idea,” she replied.
I insisted, “If not now, then never. I’m leaving tomorrow. ನಿನ್ನಿಷ್ಟ (Your wish!)”
I just wanted to wake the old madness in her. She thought for a moment and finally said, “Hmm… ಸಕ್ಕತ್ ಅಲ್ವಾ? (Sounds Crazy!)” And with that, I slowly opened the main door and we both sneaked out.
“My feet finally on the sand.” She laughed, “I’ve been waiting for this since I came here! Thanks Sid..”
We sat by the beach, gazing at the half moon reflected on the water, listening to the rhythmic sound of the tides.
She turned to me and asked, “Siddu, did you miss me?”
I admitted, “Yes… I missed you during exams. I could barely copy anything from anyone sitting around me. If you had been there, I would have easily crossed 70% in the midterm.” I laughed.
“Is that it?” she asked.
I lied, “Hmm… well, I’m not sure! ಇಲ್ಲ ಕಣೇ (not a bit) i don’t think I really missed you, Chimpanzee,”
She just hummed in response. A long silence stretched between us.
After a few minutes, she said she was feeling cold. “Let’s get back home,”. So we sneaked back quietly, returning to the house without waking anyone. The next morning, as we left for the train station, she stood by her door, quietly waving at me as we headed back to Bangalore.
After our return, I hadn’t called or spoken to her at all. I hadn’t even wished her on her birthday, but she did.
After school, following my regular routine, I went to Simran’s house to watch my TV show. To my surprise, she was right there after 2 months, back from Mangalore, fully recovered.
I blurted out, “Hey, Chimpanzee! ಏನ್ (What a) surprise, you’re back!”
Simran had missed a whole year of school. On the other hand, I had missed her during 10th main exams. The 10th grade exams had been a real struggle for me, but somehow I managed to get first class.
When the 2009 batch results were out, I gave my books to Simran. She was genuinely happy for me, though I could see a trace of sadness in her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be joining me in college.
Our rooms shared the same balcony style, clearly visible and easily reachable from one another. I called Simran and asked her to come up to the terrace.
“It’s already midnight siddu and there’s no beach here to chill.”
“You are coming, ಅಷ್ಟೇ,” I insisted.
I walked away and went up, school bag slung over my shoulder.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why are you wearing your school bag now?”
I grinned. “There’s something in it.”
With a flourish, I pulled out a full bottle of wine. Her eyes widened in shock.
“Aiyoo ಲೋಫರ್ (Idiot), Are you crazy? You want to… drink this?” she asked, half laughing, half panicking.
“Yes. It’s on my to do list and you have no choice you’re joining me,” I said.
The little tomboy in her flickered to life, hesitant but curious. She was scared, yet excited. Slowly, cautiously, we poured the wine and sipped.
“Ohh yuck! How do people even drink this?” I said, making a face.
Simran burst out laughing, then took a sip as if she’d been doing it all her life. I watched in disbelief as she drank with surprising ease. Somehow, between laughter and stubborn pride, we managed to empty the bottle.
We talked for hours that night, imagining how college life would be, which subjects I should take and how everything around us was about to change. For those few fleeting hours, it was just the two of us again.. laughing, teasing and dreaming about a future that felt exciting and a little terrifying at the same time.
My first few days in college weren’t quite what I had imagined, new faces, new friends and a swirl of mixed emotions. I made a few friends quickly, but the one thing missing was my Chimpanzee. There was a void, only that Simran could fill. Still, skipping classes with my new gang to catch a movie felt like a new kind of freedom, thrilling and strange at the same time.
Whenever I shared these stories with Simran, she would sound genuinely happy for me, but I could sense the sadness in her voice. She wished she could experience it all too. She was busy preparing for her 10th exams and we all knew she would top the school. Deep down, though, I also knew what awaited me, a proper scolding from my parents once they compared my marks with hers.
A year passed by like a shooting star across the sky. As expected, Simran topped the school. My first pre university results were out too and honestly, I had no hopes of even crossing 60%. But miraculously, I scored an average of 64%.
That day, we ended up drinking again, only this time, it was Simran who initiated the plan. We went up to the terrace and it felt like déjà vu. Simran was on cloud nine, glowing with her success and I was quietly thrilled with my unexpected marks. Unlike me, Simran had a mind full of ambitions, clear about where she wanted to go.
I jokingly told her, “If someone ever tries to rag you, just tell me.. I’ll come and save you.”
That night we laughed and laughed until our sides hurt. I hardly remember anything after that. I don’t even remember how I got back to my bedroom. Maybe… maybe Simran carried me there.
For someone who grew up in the 90’s, having a mobile phone felt like entering a whole new world. Simran’s father had given her ₹7,000 to buy a new phone and I was the self appointed expert, helping her choose not just the model but even the number. We went together to get the phone, buzzing with excitement, it felt less like a purchase and more like a milestone in our growing up story.
It was Simran’s first day in college and my first day in the second year. I arrived a little early to meet my friends, waiting in the parking area. From there, I saw her approaching from the bus stop. I waved and shouted, “Hey, Chimpanze!”
She turned, giving me a look that said she’d had enough of my nonsense. Moments later, her phone buzzed, a message from her: “Stop calling me that, you idiot! At least here…” I couldn’t help but grin, knowing some things about her would never change.
Chapter Two : The Beautiful Distraction
But little did I know, that day was the beginning of something unexpected, something I had no idea could change so much. That’s when I noticed her: A girl walking just behind Simran toward the college.
She wore a red kurta, a tiny red bindi on her forehead, her side bag swinging casually and her hair left open, flowing freely. I was instantly flattered… stunned, really. *Oh my God, who is she?*
I had never seen her in college before. Maybe she was a first year too? I needed to talk to her, but how? Simran became my hope. I quickly approached simran, just to get closer to that girl and sneak a glance at her ID tag. Sheetal, it read.
Simran asked me, “Where is the first year class?” Sheetal overheard and asked, “Are you from 1st year PCMC” Simran nodded, “Yes.”
Standing next to them, I jumped in and explained the route to the first year class. Inside me, butterflies were flying.
Later, on my way back to class, I texted Simran: “Get along with her. She seems nice, could be a good company.”
Simran replied almost instantly: “Nice company for me or you?”
“ಅಯ್ಯೋ (Ohh god!), for you… why for meee? i replied”.
That day in college, more than Simran, it was my heart that was in a whirlwind of mixed emotions. I had seen someone truly beautiful. The entire day kept replaying that first glance of her in my mind, over and over, like a scene on rewind.
I wanted to ask simran about her first day experience in college especially about about sheetal. That day, I asked Simran to come up to the terrace. While waiting, I could barely contain myself and texted her: “ಬೇಗ ಬಾ (Come fast), I’m waiting here.”
When she arrived, she asked “Tell me, what is it? Why are you in such a hurry?”
I casually. “No, just wanted to ask… how did it go? How did you feel on your first day of college?”
“You really wanted to ask that here?” she teased.
“Yeah! and..I also wanted to check if anyone dared to rag you,” I added, trying to sound casual.
Simran smiled. “Ah, no one. It was pretty good. I’ve made a few friends already.”
“Oh, nice! How many? What are their names?” I asked eagerly.
“Anusha, Shree, Anitha and Megha. Quite a few friends,” she replied.
I was sure she would mention Sheetal’s name… but she didn’t.
I paused for a second before asking, “Oh, okay, super… you’ve already made so many friends. And… that girl the one who asked you about the classroom this morning… is she from your class? What’s her name?”
Simran replied casually, “Who? Oh yeah… Sheetal. she’s in class.”
I looked up at the sky and thought to myself, “This is more than enough for me.”
During lunch, I sneaked into the first year classroom just to meet Simran and secretly to see Sheetal. Simran introduced me to her friends, exactly who I had been waiting to meet since day one.
When she finally introduced me to Sheetal, I whispered to myself, “Hey ಜಿಂಕೆ (Deer)… I already know you.”
After that, things got absolutely crazy. Crazier than I could have ever imagined, late night talks, bunking classes to watch films, birthday night surprises… everything felt incredible. The years 2010 and 2011 became the best of my life, the happiest days I can ever remember. Every laugh, every mischievous plan, every shared secret added to a feeling I couldn’t quite explain. Sometimes i feel friendship is far more beautiful than many love stories, it has a depth and simplicity that love often complicates. The bond we shared between laughter, loyalty and those fleeting teenage moments, felt timeless.
I was living in the moment, unaware that exams were fast approaching. Tense? Maybe a little, but even if I failed a year, it didn’t matter, I’d still be close to Simran and Sheetal. In the end, I secured 57% in the second year and got 5 digit number in my CET rank. I knew I was going to miss both of them terribly and soon I would have to shift to a degree college.
With that rank, I joined SJB Institute of Technology. New faces, a new place… and somehow, I felt unprepared for the change. I longed for the same old friends, but I wondered, even if I waited a year, would they come to the same college? With the marks they were going to secure, they might end up at Ramaiah or RV.
But Simran and Sheetal weren’t like that. Despite their excellent marks and good CET results, they both chose to join my college. They made a conscious decision, not out of obligation, but out of loyalty and the desire to keep our friendship going. That choice, simple as it seemed, meant the world to me.
Even though two years had passed between Sheetal and me, I never expressed anything about the feelings I had for her. Somehow, Simran seemed to sense it sometimes, but she never asked and i never brought it up.
Those four years rolled past in a blur…
36 theories, a dozen labs, endless fights, late night hostel parties, bunking classes for FDFS shows of our favourite heroes, getting caught with phones in class, stalking juniors’ Facebook profiles and surviving exam nightmares with backlogs chasing us like ghosts.
College was loud, messy, unforgettable… The kind of place where friendships grew wild and reckless before life slowly tamed us.
But there was one thing I never dared to do, I never proposed to Sheetal.
The fear held me back every single time,
the fear of losing her if she said no,
more than that, the fear of ruining our trio,
the fear of hearing an answer i wasn’t ready for.
On my farewell day, I finally decided i would do it.
The day had come, no more running. I wore a blazer for the first time, got a fresh haircut, kept rehearsing my small shayari in front of the mirror, voice trembling but determined.
But before proposing to Sheetal, I wanted to tell someone.
Someone who had been there since the beginning.
Someone who knew every version of me.
Simran.
I went to her and said:
**Heyy, Sunshine,
My MoonPie.
Every second with you is gold,
How I wish my heart could stay forever bold.
With you, life is Bliss,
without you, every moment I Miss.
I Love You..
Do you love me?**
Simran listened, smiled, dozed off for a second and blinked back into reality.
“ಏನೋ.. are you really serious, ಕೋತಿ (Idiot)?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m in love with Sheetal.”
She froze for a moment, not shocked, just… finally relieved.
“I knew it from the beginning,” she said softly. “You waited this long for this??”
“Go get her. It’s your day,” Simran said. “She will definitely accept.”
After my farewell party, we sat in the college canteen.
Sheetal sat across from me, breaking her samosa piece by piece, unaware that my heartbeat was louder than the canteen noise.
I told myself I was ready. Fully prepared. Courage loaded.
I looked straight into Sheetal’s eyes and began reciting the shayari.
But, it didn’t come out like a shayari.
It came out like a sentence, flat and rushed and nervous, as if I was reading out my grocery list.
Simran burst into laughter. Sheetal looked at me, smiled… and then she started laughing too.
Sheetal said, “I already know. Simran told me…”
I turned to Simran. She just winked at me, completely unapologetic.
But Sheetal hadn’t given me an answer yet.
I waited. My chest felt tight, every second stretching like a full minute.
Finally, she said softly, “Yes.”
That one moment…
I swear, I felt my life flood with light.
It felt like reaching the peak of Mount Everest after the hardest, clumsiest trek of my life.
A happy trance washed over me, the exact feeling I had been searching for without even knowing it.
Everything felt the same after Sheetal and I got together…
except for one thing, the trio was never the same again.
Sheetal and I naturally began spending more time together, late night calls, inside jokes, small secrets, shared plans. And somewhere in all that, without realising it, Simran started slipping out of the frame.
Earlier, it had always been “us three.”
One plate of momos shared between three, one scooter ride with three somehow squeezed in, one phone passed between three hands. Now, everything turned into pairs.
Me and Sheetal.
Me and my routines.
And Simran… somewhere in between, trying to smile through it.
She never complained.
Not once. Simran was never the kind who needed attention.
Life had to go on… but I was lost in the world of Sheetal.
With the marks I had scored and the backlogs I carried like ghosts behind me, I knew I wouldn’t get placed in any IT company. Honestly, I wasn’t even interested. When most of my batchmates got placed, I was the one left behind, confused, directionless, unsure of what came next.
But Simran.. she knew me better than I knew myself.
While I was sitting there wondering what to do, she had quietly prepared my resume, polished it and applied for a job at Cadbury India on my behalf.
I didn’t even know about it until I got the call.
Strangely, unbelievably… they asked me to come in for an interview.
But somehow, one question after another, things fell into place.
By the end of the day, they shook my hand and said the words I never imagined hearing:
“Congratulations. You’re selected.”
At that moment, everything changed —
in a way I never saw coming.
The offer was great.
The role was exciting.
The only catch?
I had to shift to Mumbai for two years.
I had no plans of leaving Bangalore, leaving my people, leaving Sheetal… not even for a month. But Sheetal insisted that I take it, that this was a once in a lifetime chance.
And Simran, in her quiet, steady way, said,
“Two years will pass like the blink of an eye, Siddu. You gotta do it.”
So I agreed.
And just like that, my close, everyday relationship with Sheetal became a long distance relationship overnight.
When I shifted to Mumbai, everything felt overwhelming.
Rustic, chaotic, harsh, alive, a city that never slowed down enough for you to find your breath.
Every evening, I sat on the shore of Marine Beach, watching the restless waves crash over and over again. The noise of the city behind me, the endless sea in front of me… and in the middle of all that, a single wish : If only Sheetal were here with me.
Talking to her every night was my only stressbuster.
My only comfort in a city that felt too big and too fast.
One year passed before I even realised it.
Back home, Sheetal and Simran both got placed in a really good company, earning nearly five times more than my package. But I was genuinely happy for them. Proud, even.
But then… something shifted.
Suddenly, Sheetal’s calls began reducing.
Then they became irregular.
Then they stopped altogether.
It was only me calling.
Only me texting.
Only me waiting on the other end of a silent phone.
Sometimes my calls went unanswered.
Sometimes my messages were left on seen.
Sometimes they weren’t even opened.
And every night, I kept asking myself:
What was happening?
Where was the girl who once said yes to me with a smile that lit up my entire world?
I didn’t have the courage to ask Simran anything.
How could I call her now only to ask about Sheetal?
It had been months since I’d even checked on her.
Months since I’d asked how she was.
There were days when I didn’t pick her calls either — sometimes because I was busy with Sheetal, sometimes because I simply didn’t bother.
And now, calling her just to know Sheetal’s whereabouts…
I would be ashamed of myself.
It felt wrong, shameful.. like she would hear my guilt the moment she answered.
Somewhere along the line, I had drifted so far into Sheetal’s world that I’d forgotten the one person who had been there long before her.
I felt alone, painfully, completely alone.
But I also knew this, if Simran ever found out I was breaking like this, she would never leave me alone in that pain.
And maybe that was the moment the universe decided to step in.
One evening, sitting on the sands of Marine Beach, the waves roaring louder than my own thoughts, my phone buzzed.
Chimpanzee.
Name on my screen felt like a breath I had been holding for months.
I answered.
We spoke for hours,
hours that filled all the months of silence,
hours that stitched back pieces of a friendship I had carelessly torn,
hours where her voice felt like home again.
And then, gently… too gently… she said,
“Siddu… I need to tell you something.”
My heart stalled.
I didn’t interrupt. I couldn’t.
Simran continued,
“Siddu… Sheetal has someone else now. A guy from same office.”
She hesitated.
I could hear her swallow, hear the weight of what she was about to say.
Then quiet, but brutal,
“They’re not just talking, Siddu… they’ve hooked up.”
For a second, everything around me went silent.
The sea. The city. Even my own heartbeat.
Only her words remained… sharp, heavy & earth shattering.
Days passed, but one question kept looping in my mind—
Why did she leave me?
A question only she had the answer to.
It pinched me day after day, night after night.
My nights turned into scrolling through our old messages, reading them again and again.
Checking her DP, checking her profile,
seeing her online and hoping, just hoping, she would text me.
It was Monday morning, around 8 AM.
I grabbed my phone half awake and saw a notification from “Sheetal.”
My heartbeat spiked for a moment.
Two months.
After nearly two months of silence… finally, her name.
I opened it immediately.
It wasn’t a message.
It was a voice note.
I pressed play.
She said she wanted to break up.
Just like that.
Then she continued saying she had once been caught by her dad while texting me.
He was very particular about the boy she chose…
Someone earning better, someone from a stable background, someone from their community.
She said she didn’t want any more complications.
She asked me not to disturb her again, not to ruin the “beautiful memories” we had made all these years.
And then, the final blow, she told me she had already found someone else at her workplace and that her marriage was being fixed with him.
I had heard breakup stories. I had watched them in movies.
But I never thought, never even imagined, that I would live one myself.
Seven years of love… ending in the blink of an eye.
Someone I had pictured spending my whole life with was suddenly going to belong to someone else forever.
And there I was, clueless, hopeless, standing alone in the middle of a noisy Mumbai, feeling like the only silent person in a city that never stops.
Chapter Three : The Words I Never Spoke
I stopped answering Simran’s calls, unsure of what to say.
She kept calling… again and again… and I kept letting it ring.
After months of dragging myself through lonely days in Mumbai, I came back to Bangalore for just a few days, exhausted in ways I couldn’t even explain.
The very day I arrived, before even going home, I walked toward Simran’s house.. It was decorated with flowers, lights and bright colours. The whole place was crowded. From a distance, I saw Simran, dressed in a saree, standing quietly in the middle of all that noise.
It was her matchmaking day.
Simran turned and saw me.
For a moment, her eyes held a flicker of something,
unsure, helpless… like she had been waiting for me for a very long time and didn’t know how to face me anymore.
Later that night, after years, it was the terrace that pulled us together again.
Simran said quietly, “I kept calling you, Sid… I wanted to tell you. Appa is rushing me into marriage. ಅಜ್ಜ (Grandad) is very sick and his only wish is to see me married soon.”
I asked, “Did you like the guy? Did you even get a chance to talk to him?”
Simran looked away. “Does it even matter? What choice do I have?”
Tears gathered in my eyes for a moment, but I didn’t let them fall. I quickly looked away and forced a small smile, pretending to be happy for her.
I forced a small smile and said,
“He seems like a nice guy. He’ll look after you.. you don’t have to worry.”
The night ended with a few quiet conversations, one of the shortest nights of our lives on that terrace.
When I went back to my room, I finally broke down and cried like a kid. All I knew was that I was going to miss my best friend chimpanzee terribly.
The wedding was only a month away. Simran asked if I could help her distribute the invitation cards.
They were the last few days before her marriage and I agreed. During that time, somewhere along that journey, I ended up seeing a different side of myself.
As the day approached, there was a heaviness in my heart, a kind of pain I couldn’t put into words. Was it love? Or was it something deeper than friendship? I didn’t know. All I had were questions and none of them had answers.
The wedding was planned in Mangalore, so we all reached two days earlier.
Simran had already grown comfortable with her fiance, it was evident in her presence.
It was around 8 PM, the night before the wedding. I was walking along the beach behind her grandfather’s house when Simran called.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m near the shore,” I said.
“Stay there… I’m coming. I need to show you something.”
A few minutes later, she walked toward me, dressed in her wedding saree, her hair left open.
“This is what I’m going to wear tomorrow. How do I look?” she asked.
“You look… more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” I said.
“How’s the mehendi? Isn’t it beautiful? Look…” she said, showing her hands.
“Hmmm… it’s nice,” I replied.
She looked toward the waves.
“Remember this place? Eight years ago… we were here that night. You remember?”
I nodded.
She paused, her voice softer now.
“That day, I asked you if you missed me. You said ಇಲ್ಲ (No).
Will you miss me now, after the wedding?”
Tears stagnated in my eyes. I didn’t have the courage to face her and I didn’t want her to see me crying.
“No… I won’t,” I said.
(But this time, with a heaviness in my heart, I really lied.)
After a long silence, she looked straight into my eyes.
“Sid… I don’t know how to say this, but.. I’m going to miss you more than I’m ready to admit.
You’ve always been special to me, more than you’ll ever know.
and after tomorrow…” and she hugged me immediately.
She had tears in her eyes too. I could feel one roll down onto my shirt.
Simran’s phone rang, it was her mother.
“Okay… Amma is calling. I’ll go. Come back soon, okay? Dinner is ready.”
And then she walked away.
I stayed there, wanting to shout and tell her that I would miss her… that I didn’t want her to get married. That was the moment I realised she was more than a friend, more than a soulmate. She wasn’t just any girl in my life.
She was everything.
But I stood there helpless, watching her walk away, her wedding saree brushing against the wind, the full moon shining behind her, quietly reminding me of everything I never said.
I wanted to run after her, hold her hand and shout, “Why didn’t you make me understand what you meant to me? You were there from the beginning… every step, every fight, every stupid moment of my life.”
I wanted to yell, “If you go.. who’s going to be there for me on the terrace at midnight? Who’s going to listen to my nonsense, fight with me, argue with me, annoy me, save me? Who’s going to be there for the rest of my life?”
And more than anything…
I wanted to go back in time to that night on this very beach, the night I lied to her and said I didn’t miss her. I wanted to rewrite that moment, hold her face in my hands and tell her the truth that I had missed her more than I ever understood.
But every word stayed trapped inside my chest.
Only the waves heard them.
Simran didn’t fade into a memory.
She wasn’t someone i could lock away in the past.
She wasn’t a chapter i could close.
“SHE WAS MY LIFE”.
One Reply